Faith After Foundationalism

FAITH A F T E R

FOUNDATIONALISM

Also by D.Z. Phillips

The Concept of Prayer Faith and Philosophical Enquiry Death and Immortality Moral Practices (with H.O. Mounce) Sense and Delusion (with Ilham Dilman) Athronyddu am Grefydd Religion without Explanation Dramau Gwenlyn Parry Through a Darkening Glass Belief, Change and Forms of Life R.S. Thomas: Poet of the Hidden God

FAITH AFTER

FOUNDATIONALISM D.Z. PHILLIPS

li ROUTLEDGE London and New York

First published in 1988 by Routledge 11 New Fetter Lane, London E C 4 P 4EE Published in the USA by Routledge in association with Routledge, C h a p m a n and Hall, Inc. 29 West 35th Street, New York NY 10001 © 1988 D.Z. Phillips Printed and bound in Great Britain by Mackays of C h a t h a m PLC, C h a t h a m , Kent All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Phillips, D.Z. Faith after foundationalism. 1. Faith and reason I. Title 200'. 1 BT50 ISBN 0-415-00333-4

Roy Holland

To and Peter

Winch

Contents

xiii

Preface Part One: Can There Be A Religious

Epistemology?

1. F o u n d a t i o n a l i s m a n d Religion: a P h i l o s o p h i c a l S c a n d a l

3

2. T h e R e f o r m e d C h a l l e n g e to F o u n d a t i o n a l i s m

14

3. P r e l i m i n a r y C r i t i c i s m of the R e f o r m e d C h a l l e n g e

24

4. Basic P r o p o s i t i o n s : R e f o r m e d E p i s t e m o l o g y a n d W i t t g e n s t e i n ' s On Certainty

38

5. E p i s t e m o l o g y a n d J u s t i f i c a t i o n by F a i t h

54

6. Religion a n d E p i s t e m o l o g y

75

7. A R e f o r m e d E p i s t e m o l o g y ?

94

8. Religious a n d N o n - R e l i g i o u s P e r s p e c t i v e s

115

9. P h i l o s o p h y , D e s c r i p t i o n a n d Religion

123

Part Two: Manners Without

Grammar

10. T h e H e r m e n e u t i c O p t i o n

131

11. O p t i o n a l D e s c r i p t i o n s ?

148

12. T h e H i d d e n V a l u e s of H e r m e n e u t i c s

154

13. T h e Sociologising of V a l u e s

167

14. Religion in t h e M a r k e t p l a c e

183

Part Three: Grammar and Theology 15. G r a m m a r a n d the N a t u r e of D o c t r i n e

195

16. G r a m m a r a n d D o c t r i n a l D i s a g r e e m e n t

213

17. G r a m m a r W i t h o u t F o u n d a t i o n s

225

18. G r a m m a r i a n s a n d G u a r d i a n s

238

Part Four: Religion and Concept-Formation 19. Epistemological Mysteries

255

20. A Place for Mystery

273

21. Morality, G r a c e a n d C o n c e p t - F o r m a t i o n

291

22. Religious Concepts: M i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g a n d Lack of Understanding

304

Bibliography

334

Index

339

Acknowledgements This book was written d u r i n g the a c a d e m i c year 1985/6. I a m grateful to the University College of S w a n s e a for g r a n t i n g me the sabbatical leave which allowed m e to concentrate on it. D u r i n g the Fall Semester, I was a Visiting Professor a n d Research Fellow at Yale, a n d d u r i n g the Spring Semester, a Visiting Professor a n d Fellow at C l a r e m o n t G r a d u a t e School, California. D u r i n g these visits I received m a n y kindnesses f r o m ^ t u d e n t s a n d staff, a c a d e m i c a n d administrative, for which I a m deeply grateful. C o n c e r n with Wittgenstein's On Certainty a n d with R e f o r m e d epistemology is central in P a r t O n e of the book. I a m indebted to discussions with R u s h Rhees concerning On Certainty, a n d to fruitful d i s a g r e e m e n t s with H . O . M o u n c e over how t h a t work is to be read. In this context, I have also learned f r o m discussions with Peter W i n c h , D o n a l d E v a n s a n d David Sims, a n d from p a p e r s on related topics by Samuel Fleischacker which he was good enough to show m e at Yale. Stephen Davis of C l a r e m o n t M c K e n n a College kindly read this section of the book, providing helpful c o m m e n t s on my exposition of Reformed Epistemology. For p u r p o s e s of discussion, I presented my m a i n contentions in a p a p e r called ' F o u n d a t i o n a l i s m , R e f o r m e d epistemology a n d Wittgenstein's On Certainty', which I read at the University of Illinois at U r b a n a , Illinois State University, the University of Arizona at Phoenix a n d the University of California at S a n t a B a r b a r a . I benefited from the discussions on these occasions. T h e main issues, with a slightly different emphasis, were presented as the 1987 A q u i n a s Lecture, ' S h a k i n g F o u n d a t i o n a l i s m ' , delivered at Blackfriars, O x f o r d , in J a n u a r y 1987. In P a r t O n e , a n d elsewhere in the book, I have m a d e use of selected material from 'Primitive Reactions a n d the Reactions of Primitives', the 1983 M a r e t t Lecture delivered at Exeter College, Oxford, on 17 M a y 1983. In 1984, the lecture was also presented at the State University of N e w York at A l b a n y a n d Buffalo, a n d at the California State University at H a y w a r d . I a m grateful to those w h o contributed to the discussions on those occasions. T h e M a r e t t Lecture was printed for private circulation initially, b u t was later published in Religious Studies, vol. 22. I have also m a d e use in P a r t O n e a n d elsewhere in the book of selected m a t e r i a l from ' T h e Friends of C l e a n t h e s ' , Modern Theology, J a n . 1985. I a m grateful for permission to use this m a t e r i a l here.

In Part T w o , C h a p t e r s 13 a n d 14 on Peter Berger's work are a revision of my contribution to the s y m p o s i u m ' T h e Sociologizing of M e a n i n g ' with A.R. M a n s e r , Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, S u p p . Vol. L I I I , 1979. M y revision h a s benefited f r o m A . R . M a n s e r ' s criticisms on that occasion, a l t h o u g h he would p r o b a b l y still be u n h a p p y with some of my conclusions. I am grateful for permission to use some of the original material here. P a r t T h r e e of the book consists of material which I wrote in the form of two p a p e r s while at Yale Divinity School, designed to invite discussion, namely, ' L i n d b e c k ' s A u d i e n c e ' a n d ' H o l m e r ' s Audience'. It was not until the following semester t h a t this material fell into place as the third p a r t of the book. By that time, the p a p e r s h a d aroused a certain a m o u n t o f i n t e r e s t as i n d e p e n d e n t pieces. ' L i n d b e c k ' s Audience' was a reaction to George Lindbeck's The Nature of Doctrine. Because of the interest in t h a t book, I was p e r s u a d e d that there was good reason to publish my p a p e r in Modern Theology, O c t . 1987. I wish to acknowledge the gracious way in which George Lindbeck accepted a n d discussed my criticisms, a n d to t h a n k the Editor of Modern Theology for permission to use the material here. ' H o l m e r ' s A u d i e n c e ' is a reaction to Paul H o l m e r ' s The Grammar of Faith which I already knew a n d h a d found philosophically congenial. I benefited f r o m the discussions I h a d with Paul H o l m e r at Yale. David Gibson was extremely helpful, in informal discussions, in pointing out similarities a n d differences between Paul H o l m e r ' s work a n d my own. ' H o l m e r ' s A u d i e n c e ' is to a p p e a r as ' G r a m m a r i a n s a n d G u a r d i a n s ' in afestschrift for Paul H o l m e r edited by R i c h a r d Bell. In Part F o u r of the book, C h a p t e r s 19 a n d 20 grew out of an u n p u b l i s h e d p a p e r , ' G o d a n d M y s t e r y ' . T h e p a p e r was one of the lectures I gave as Agnes C u m i n g Visitor at University College, Dublin in 1982. I a m indebted to the discussion on that occasion a n d to the discussions when the p a p e r was read at Louisiana State University, Baton Rouge, a n d University College, Cardiff in 1982, at the College of Wooster, O h i o in 1983, a n d at the University of Leeds in 1984. C h a p t e r 21 grew out of a p a p e r on ' G r a c e a n d W o r k s ' given at the C e n t r e for Philosophic E x c h a n g e at the State University of New York at Brockport. T h e lecture, in its original form, was published in Philosophic Exchange, 1984/5, nos. 15 a n d 16. I benefited f r o m the discussion of the p a p e r at the C e n t r e where a video of the discussion is available. I a m also grateful for a discussion of the p a p e r at T u l a n e University in 1982. In arriving

at the version of the material used in the book, I have benefited from the perceptive c o m m e n t s of D o n a l d Evans. ' G o d a n d M y s t e r y ' a n d ' G r a c e a n d W o r k s ' , in their original form, were responses to the work of J o h n W h i t t a k e r . Discussions with h i m at Louisiana State University were extremely rewarding. In the r e m a i n d e r of Part F o u r of the book, I have selected a n d revised material from two published p a p e r s . I a m grateful for permission to m a k e this use of the material here. ' M y s t e r y a n d M e d i a t i o n ' was read at one of the plenary sessions of t h e first National Conference on Religion a n d L i t e r a t u r e at the University of D u r h a m in S e p t e m b e r 1982. T h e p a p e r was published in Images of Belief in Literature edited by David J a s p e r ( M a c m i l l a n a n d St M a r t i n ' s Press 1984). T h e p a p e r was read as a Convocation Lecture at the College of Wooster, O h i o a n d to a meeting u n d e r the auspices of the A l u m n i Association at Georgia College, Milledge-ville in 1982, a n d as a public lecture at N a z a r e t h College, Rochester in 1984. I a m grateful for the discussions on these occasions. ' T h e Devil's Disguises' was a lecture in the Royal Institute of Philosophy Series, Objectivity and Cultural Divergence, edited by Stuart Brown, C a m b r i d g e University Press 1984. T h e p a p e r was also read at the University of Virginia at Charlottesville, the University of Georgia a n d L o u i s i a n a State University in 1982, a n d at V a s s a r College a n d California State University at San B e r n a r d i n o in 1984. T h i s m a t e r i a l was also used in my seminars at Yale a n d C l a r e m o n t . I benefited f r o m all the discussions on these various occasions. It is obvious that my intellectual debts are n u m e r o u s . No one to w h o m I a m indebted would agree with all the conclusions I have reached. I n d e e d , m a n y would disagree with most of them. Nevertheless, without their help, I could not have written the book. I a m also grateful to M r s Sonia H u g h e s for the p r e p a r a t i o n of the typescript for publication a n d D o n a l d Evans for being ready, as usual, to help me with the proof-reading. D.Z.P. Swansea

Preface Contemporary philosophy of religion is d o m i n a t e d by foundationalism, a n d by a p o s t - E n l i g h t e n m e n t conception of rationality. F o u n d a t i o n a l i s m is the view that propositions a r e of two kinds, those which stand in need of evidence, a n d those which provide the required evidence. T h e latter are said to be f o u n d a tional, since they do not s t a n d in need of f u r t h e r evidence. M o s t philosophers a s s u m e that belief in G o d c a n n o t be given f o u n d a tional status. T h a t belief, it is said, s t a n d s in need of s u p p o r t i n g evidence. Even w h e n the evidence is considered to be favourable, the most t h a t can be said is t h a t it is highly p r o b a b l e t h a t there is a G o d . T h e e m b a r r a s s m e n t for f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m h a s always been t h a t it does not d o justice to the p r i m a r y l a n g u a g e of faith. Strong belief is not tentative or hypothetical. Believers do not pray to a G o d w h o p r o b a b l y exists. But if foundationalism is i n a d e q u a t e , to w h a t philosophical alternative can one turn? I n P a r t O n e of the book, I discuss the powerful attack on f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m by R e f o r m e d epistemologists in recent years. T h e R e f o r m e d epistemologist argues t h a t the religious believer has every right to place belief in God a m o n g his f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions. T h e foundationalist denies this right. H e a p p e a l s to the p o s t - E n l i g h t e n m e n t conception of rationality a n d its notion of sovereign reason, by reference to which epistemic practices a r e to be j u d g e d . T h e Reformed epistemologist points out t h a t the possibility of such j u d g e m e n t d e p e n d s on p r o d u c i n g a criterion of basicality. Such a criterion would d e t e r m i n e which propositions are a n d are not properly f o u n d a t i o n a l . But no such criterion h a s been p r o d u c e d . T h e classical foundationalist claims t h a t only self-evident propositions a n d the incorrigible propositions of sense experience are properly f o u n d a t i o n a l . B u t how does he know this? It is certainly not self-evident t h a t this is so. T h e theist c a n n o t d e m o n s t r a t e his right to place belief in G o d a m o n g his f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions, but the foundationalist is in precisely the s a m e position with respect to the f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions he recognises. T h e foundationalist does not arrive at his c o m m i t m e n t to his f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions as a result of intellectual investigation. O n the contrary, he takes this c o m m i t m e n t for g r a n t e d in his investigations. H e trusts in his epistemic practices. T h e R e f o r m e d epistemologist, unlike the f o u n d a t i o n a l -

ist, does not claim to know t h a t his f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions reflect reality, but he believes that they do. T h e Reformers were right: justification is by faith, not by reason. R e f o r m e d epistemology, despite its attacks on classical f o u n d a tionalism, r e m a i n s within a foundationalist tradition. Both m a k e a final a p p e a l to f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions. For Wittgenstein, basic propositions a r e not f o u n d a t i o n a l . T h e y enjoy their status within practices where they are held fast by all that s u r r o u n d s them. F u r t h e r , foundationalists a n d R e f o r m e d epistemologists regard epistemic practices as t h o u g h they were descriptions of a reality which lies beyond them. Wittgenstein, far more radically, insists t h a t distinctions between the real a n d the unreal get their sense within epistemic practices. O n Wittgenstein's view, philosophers m u s t wait on epistemic practices a n d the complex relations in which they stand to each other. His task is to give perspicuous representations of this situation w h e n faced with conceptual confusions concerning it. T h e s e representations will include accounts of co-operation a n d conflict between practices. Sometimes, the conflict between belief a n d unbelief is itself a conflict between different g r a m m a r s , r a t h e r t h a n a difference of opinion within an agreed g r a m m a t i c a l f r a m e w o r k . Such conflicts are distorted by the p o s t - E n l i g h t e n m e n t conception of rationality a n d by R e f o r m e d epistemology. According to the former, religious beliefs are not regarded as false beliefs, b u t as ideologies, instances of b a d faith. According to the latter, those w h o d e n y the existence of G o d a r e in the grip of various forms of self-deception. Both points of view espouse totalitarian epistemic claims. For Wittgenstein, philosophy is not the arbiter of rationality, the b a r to which epistemic practices have to come for a verdict. I n this respect, it m a y be t h o u g h t that his conception of philosophy resembles the h e r m e n e u t i c a n d sociological turns some have t h o u g h t enquiry must take after f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m . I discuss these turns in P a r t T w o of the book. In hermeneutics, too, philosophy has ceased to a d j u d i c a t e the rationality of epistemic practices. It relocates philosophy as simply one p a r t i c i p a n t in the cultural conversation t h a t is hermeneutics. T o realise this, it is said, is to free oneself from philosophy's metaphysical pretensions; from a world well lost. But a r e we b r o u g h t back to our ordinary world as a result? It seems that, in hermeneutics, m u c h of that world is distorted too. T h i s conclusion m a y be difficult to accept, since the h e r m e n e u t i c

conversation presents itself as if it were simply o r d i n a r y conversation. But the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation has h i d d e n values. T h o s e who enter it, it is said, m u s t be ready a n d eager to talk. T h e conversation has a g r e e m e n t as its aim; an a g r e e m e n t not given prior to the conversation, b u t one which is supposed to emerge from it. Any a g r e e m e n t reached m u s t not be static. It m u s t be p r e p a r e d for f u r t h e r changes a n d modifications as novelties a p p e a r on the horizon. As a result, we are told that no values are absolute. T h e h i d d e n values of h e r m e n e u t i c s are not the necessary consequences of exposing the defects of foundationalism. T h e postulation of the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation is prescriptive, a n d there is no reason why religious believers should follow the prescription. In certain circumstances, religious believers will w a n t to stress the differences between their practices a n d those of other people. C o m m o n a g r e e m e n t will not be their aim a n d they will not be p r e p a r e d to talk to all a n d s u n d r y . T h e h e r m e n e u t i c conversation turns out to be no more than one set of responses some m a y wish to engage in faced by a plurality of epistemic practices. After foundationalism, some have suggested that enquiry should take a sociological r a t h e r t h a n a h e r m e n e u t i c turn. Instead of a h e r m e n e u t i c conversation, we are offered a sociological story. Like the conversation the story, if a d o p t e d , promises to bring us back from metaphysical to o r d i n a r y conceptions of reality. According to the story, m e n b e c a m e victims of m e a n i n g s a n d values they themselves have created. T h e y allow this to h a p p e n because they w a n t to be protected f r o m a n o m y ; from meaninglessness. But there are m a n y different clusters of meanings, some strong, some weak. W h e n religious meanings find themselves in an u n s y m p a t h e t i c cultural milieu, they have to a c c o m m o d a t e existing fashions in order to survive. T h e sociological story is descriptive r a t h e r t h a n prescriptive. But w h a t does it describe? T h e concepts it employs are a p p r o p r i a t e to describe the behaviour of those w h o simply conform to w h a t e v e r is the done thing, engage in activities from ulterior motives, a n d are ready to c o m p r o m i s e with a n y t h i n g in order to survive. I n short, the concepts employed describe behaviour which deviates from a n o r m , deviates from the genuine. But the sociological story offers itself as a description of the n o r m a n d the genuine! As such, it obscures the possibilities of the genuine from us. Theology, like philosophy, has w a n t e d to learn from a critique of foundationalism. I n P a r t T h r e e of the book, I discuss some theological forms of f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m , a n d a t t e m p t s within

theology to take a Wittgensteinian turn after foundationalism. O n e form of theological foundationalism is found in cognitivist theories of religious belief. Such theories see theologies as descriptions of a divine object to which they refer. C o m p e t i n g theologies are competing descriptions, on this view. A n o t h e r form of theological foundationalism is found in experiential-expressive theories of religious belief, whereby different theologies are seen as different interpretations of an underlying religious experience to which they refer. But these references to 'a c o m m o n object' or 'a c o m m o n experience' are idle, since it is only within theological a n d religious contexts that we have criteria to d e t e r m i n e w h a t is m e a n t by speaking of 'the s a m e G o d ' or 'the same religious experience'. Wittgenstein expressed these insights by calling theology a g r a m m a r . Yet Wittgenstein's conclusion is often t u r n e d into a foundationalist theory, a so-called 'cultural linguistic' a p p r o a c h to religious belief. O n such a view, different theologies are seen as different interpretations of the g r a m m a r of a c o m m o n doctrine. I n this way, Wittgenstein's view is m a d e to lend s u p p o r t to a perspective in which religious differences are seen as superficial p h e n o m e n a hiding a n underlying unity. N o t h i n g in Wittgenstein s u p p o r t s such a view. Philosophy's task is to give a perspicuous representation of religious differences w h e n we are t e m p t e d to mischaracterise them. N o single account can be given of the various contexts in which differences occur. Sometimes, however, theological differences are themselves g r a m m a t i c a l clashes, r a t h e r t h a n a clash of interpretations within an agreed c o m m o n g r a m m a r . Sometimes, one m a n ' s G o d is a n o t h e r m a n ' s devil. Theological f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m can take m a n y forms. For example, it is said t h a t theism is the implicit f o u n d a t i o n of religious belief. O t h e r s say t h a t religious belief d e p e n d s on the o u t c o m e of historical evidence. Alternatively, it is said that religious belief is g r o u n d e d in 'religious facts' or 'religious history'. Again it has been said t h a t religious belief is based on religious experience; a n experience given prior to all religious beliefs a n d theologies. W h e n these forms of foundationalism are subjected to Wittgensteinian criticisms, the criticisms are often seen as if they were a n additional metaphysical theory called Wittgensteinian fideism. I n this way, the metaphysical g a m e p e r p e t u a t e s itself. T h e r e is an i m p o r t a n t difference, however, between the philosopher a n d the theologian. T h e philosopher is the g u a r d i a n of g r a m m a r . His concern is to free us f r o m the conceptual

confusions which bewitch us. T h e theologian, however, is the g u a r d i a n of the Faith. H e is not content with giving perspicuous representations of religious a g r e e m e n t s a n d differences. H e h a s the task of proclaiming, from a m o n g these agreements a n d differences, his own religious a n d theological pespective. T h e philosopher informs, b u t the theologian incites. In P a r t F o u r of the book, I explore w h a t h a p p e n s , in the case of some central religious concepts, w h e n we t u r n f r o m f o u n d a tionalism to examine concept-formation in religious belief. W h e r e the notion of mystery is concerned, we see how foundationalists t u r n religious mysteries into epistemological mysteries. I n philosophical theism, our task is said to be how to move f r o m the world to God. A g a p is opened u p between a language, said to be necessarily i n a d e q u a t e , a n d the reality of G o d . W h e n we p a y a t t e n t i o n to concept-formation, we see that, far f r o m hiding G o d f r o m us, the conception of G o d in the language is of a h i d d e n G o d . T h u s , to say ' G o d is beyond m o r t a l telling' is not to report an epistemological failure to praise G o d . O n the contrary, the expression is one form such praise takes. O u r philosophical task is to let the concept of mystery come in at the right place; to show how the concept is m e d i a t e d in h u m a n life. I try to show the internal relations which exist between a belief in mystery a n d the notion of grace, the way we react to the contingencies of life, a n d the ways in which we j u d g e a n d think of other people. T h i s recognition of the religious place for mystery is very different f r o m the recognition a n d the place which philosophy often gives to mystery. W h a t conception can philosophy have of itself after f o u n d a tionalism? First, the e n o r m o u s confidence philosophy has in itself as the d e m o n s t r a t o r of religion's necessary confusions is overt h r o w n . Second, wholesale c o n d e m n a t i o n of religion is not replaced by wholesale e n d o r s e m e n t of it. Religion is a ragged p h e n o m e n o n . Given the diverse influences we have m e n t i o n e d , it would be astonishing if no form of religious belief h a d ever been infiltrated by, or even born of, various kinds of confusion. In e n d e a v o u r i n g to give perspicuous representations of the g r a m m a r of religious belief, the philosopher c a n n o t take his audience for g r a n t e d . I have already m e n t i o n e d the anti-religious sense of intellectual superiority by which he will be confronted. T h i s sense is destroyed at considerable cost to the philosophers concerned. T h e y would have to recognise t h a t they a r e often in the grip of the very superstitions they c o n d e m n in others. It is

difficult to clarify the g r a m m a r of religious belief in a pervasively secular age. Even where a philosopher provides g r a m m a t i c a l clarifications, it c a n n o t be assumed t h a t they will be a p p r e c i a t e d by those w h o m he addresses. Some will not merely m i s u n d e r s t a n d t h e m ; they will fail to u n d e r s t a n d them. T h e elucidations offered fail to get off the g r o u n d for them; the l a n g u a g e m e a n s n o t h i n g to them. S o m e m a y be blind to w h a t the philosopher of religion w a n t s to show, as he m a y be blind to some perspectives other t h a n his own. W e do not share all the concepts in our language. W e d o not learn to talk by being able to talk to a n y o n e a b o u t everything. T h e s e considerations should lead philosophy to revise its a s s u m p tion t h a t it possesses the resources to u n d e r s t a n d , a n d to convey to others, the c h a r a c t e r of any practice presented to it. T h a t conception of itself m a y well be a n o t h e r illusion, which, after foundationalism, philosophy is called on to s u r r e n d e r .

Part One Can There Be A Religious Epistemology? It is difficult to find the beginning. O r , better: it is difficult to begin at the beginning. A n d not try to go f u r t h e r back. Wittgenstein, On Certainty

Foundationalism and Religion: a Philosophical Scandal

It has been one of the scandals of the philosophy of religion t h a t foundationalism in epistemology h a s been t h o u g h t , a n d still is t h o u g h t , to be the only philosophical perspective c a p a b l e of d o i n g justice to the n a t u r e of religious belief. F o u n d a t i o n a l i s m is the view t h a t a belief is a rational belief only if it is related, in a p p r o p r i a t e ways, to a set of propositions which constitute the f o u n d a t i o n s of w h a t we believe. It assumes, f r o m the outset, t h a t belief in G o d is not a m o n g these f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions. Belief in the existence of G o d , it is said, s t a n d s in need of justifications, g r o u n d s , reasons, foundations. W e have to ask w h e t h e r it is rational to believe in G o d . W e are a c q u a i n t e d with countless cases where it is a p p r o p r i a t e to be asked w h y we believe w h a t we say we believe, a n d it is simply a s s u m e d t h a t belief in G o d is a n o t h e r belief of this kind. O n c e this assimilation of belief in G o d to other kinds of belief takes place, asking w h e t h e r belief in G o d is rational quickly becomes a m a t t e r of seeking evidence for the existence of God. Such evidence, if it can be f o u n d , will constitute t h e f o u n d a t i o n of the belief. If it c a n n o t be f o u n d , it will have been shown t h a t there is no good reason for believing in G o d . T o continue to believe, without good reason, was held by W . K . Clifford, in the nineteenth century, to be itself a sin; to indulge in the pleasure of believing in such a way, he claimed, is to indulge in a 'stolen' pleasure: N o t only does it deceive ourselves by giving us a sense of power which we do not really possess, b u t it is sinful, because it is stolen in defiance of our d u t y to m a n k i n d . T h a t d u t y is to g u a r d ourselves f r o m such beliefs as from a pestilence, which m a y shortly master our body a n d spread to the rest of the town. 1

Clifford's view culminated in the following remark: ' T o s u m up: it is w r o n g always, everywhere, a n d for a n y o n e to believe a n y t h i n g u p o n insufficient evidence.' 2 While, for the most part, continuing to believe without sufficient evidence is not c o n d e m n e d in religious terms by philosophers today, nevertheless, it is considered sufficient to place the believer beyond the pale as far as reasoned intellectual discussion is concerned. A n d so, within the philosophy of religion, the weighing of evidence, for a n d against the existence of G o d , proceeds. T h i s is the m o d e of a r g u m e n t which is still d o m i n a n t within the practice of the philosophy of religion. Philosophers w h o argue in this way are the friends of Cleanthes. For example, some philosophers, such as R i c h a r d S w i n b u r n e , a r g u e that the p r e p o n d e r a n c e of evidence is in favour of belief in G o d , while others, such as J . L . Mackie, have a r g u e d that the p r e p o n d e r a n c e of evidence points against belief in G o d . But, as Alvin P l a n t i n g a has said, such philosophers ' c o n c u r in holding that belief in God is rational, only if there is, on balance, a p r e p o n d e r a n c e of evidence for it — or less radically, only if there is not, on balance, a p r e p o n d e r a n c e of evidence against it.' 3 Little w o n d e r that S w i n b u r n e has been called our twentieth-century Cleanthes. Yet, if S w i n b u r n e is the C l e a n t h e s of believers, Mackie m a y well be called the C l e a n t h e s of unbelievers. T h i s evidentialism, where G o d ' s reality is in question, shows that, for the most p a r t , philosophy of religion is still at an animistic stage. According to E.B. T y l o r ' s ' a n i m i s m ' , primitives react to the u n k n o w n in the world which confronts them by postulating the existence of beings higher t h a n themselves to explain otherwise inexplicable events. It is extremely i m p o r t a n t to note that, for Tylor, religious belief is not irrational. Religious beliefs a r e mistakes, b u t they might have been true. Tylor would agree with Frazer w h e n he said of the primitives: their errors were not wilful extravagances or the ravings of insanity, but simply hypotheses, justifiable as such at the time they were p r o p o u n d e d , but which a full experience has proved to be i n a d e q u a t e . It is only by the successive testing of hypotheses a n d the rejection of the false t h a t t r u t h is at last elicited. 4 Notice, ' t h e rejection of the false', not the rejection of the unintelligible. S w i n b u r n e ' s reaction has been to reaffirm t h a t the

hypothesis of G o d ' s existence is the best explanation of the world as we know it. 0 But, as Mackie shows, he has failed to come to terms with H u m e ' s criticisms in his Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion which h a u n t all forms of a r g u m e n t f r o m or to design or cosmological a r g u m e n t s . W e c a n n o t avoid these criticisms either by suggesting that the reasonableness of religious beliefs d e p e n d s on the cumulative effect of considerations in themselves inconclusive. 6 I n Religion Without Explanation,1 I tried to show how H u m e argues on three levels. At the first level, H u m e emphasises that we do not have direct knowledge of G o d . His n a t u r e m u s t be d e t e r m i n e d f r o m the c h a r a c t e r of his works. F r o m every reasonable point of view, the c h a r a c t e r of the works seems mixed, including good a n d b a d features. At the very best, therefore, G o d seems to have a mixed or capricious c h a r a c t e r . At the second level, however, H u m e asks why it is necessary to regard n a t u r e as an artifact in the first place. By so regarding it, we already a s s u m e that we have to look outside n a t u r e for an explanation of 1 it. But is there not a perfectly n a t u r a l way of explaining n a t u r a l facts without reference to God? But w h a t of the existence of the world as such? Is t h a t not something which still s t a n d s in need of explanation? At the third level, however, H u m e argues against the intelligibility of postulating G o d as the explanation of the world. First, we do not know w h a t it m e a n s to ask for the cause of everything. T h e world is not some kind of object of which it makes sense to seek the cause. Second, we have no g r o u n d s for speaking of a m a k e r of the world. W e have experience of building houses. Therefore, w h e n we see a house, we know that someone, somewhere, built the house. But w h e n we look at the world a b o u t us, we have no idea of w h a t it is to speak of worlds being m a d e . W e have no basis in our experience to speak of the world as G o d ' s artifact. H u m e ' s a r g u m e n t s , at each level, are logical a r g u m e n t s . If, then, H u m e ' s a r g u m e n t s are successful, their conclusion is not t h a t it is highly unlikely that the world is a p r o d u c t of a divine plan. H u m e ' s conclusion is t h a t such talk is unintelligible. T h e r e are times w h e n M a c k i e seems to recognise the logical force of H u m e ' s a r g u m e n t s . Consider, for example, his reaction to S w i n b u r n e ' s a t t e m p t s to resuscitate the a r g u m e n t f r o m design. I n s u m m i n g u p the effect of H u m e ' s a n d K a n t ' s a r g u m e n t s on S w i n b u r n e ' s a r g u m e n t s , M a c k i e says, ' T h e a d v a n c e of science has destroyed the starting-points which m a d e it initially plausible a n d attractive to the eighteenth century, while the general philosophical objections which were b r o u g h t against it by K a n t a n d ,

above all, by H u m e , r e m a i n in force against S w i n b u r n e ' s restatem e n t of it, a n d , I surmise, against all possible reconstructions' , 8 I n the first p a r t of the quotation, M a c k i e speaks of the traditional proof as something which has been u n d e r m i n e d by science. But, if this were accepted, the believer could reply by saying, ' P e r h a p s the evidence will t u r n in my direction once again. It is true t h a t the existence of a divine plan seems highly unlikely at the m o m e n t , but p e r h a p s new facts will emerge in the f u t u r e which will show that the existence of a divine p l a n is highly likely, as likely as it a p p e a r e d to be in the eighteenth century.' But this response would not be open to the believer in response to w h a t M a c k i e says of the criticisms of H u m e a n d K a n t . H e says that these criticisms show t h a t the conception of an a r g u m e n t f r o m design is a p r o d u c t of conceptual confusion. Speaking of the traditional proofs of the existence of G o d , Mackie says, 'Since the early nineteenth century, a n d particularly through K a n t ' s influence the traditional " p r o o f s " of theistic doctrines have been widely rejected or a b a n d o n e d . ' 9 W e r e the proofs a b a n d o n e d because their conclusions were unlikely to be true? If so, p e r h a p s there is always the likelihood that, were a p p r o p r i a t e facts to come to light, the proofs' conclusions could be held to be likely to be true after all. B u t M a c k i e recognises t h a t this is not the w a y in which the proofs have been rejected or a b a n d o n e d . T h e y have been rejected as the products of conceptual confusion. M a c k i e recognises t h a t I see H u m e ' s achievements as the exposure of such confusion: D . Z . Phillips ... refers, indeed, to the ' e n o r m o u s influence' of H u m e on c o n t e m p o r a r y philosophy of religion, a n d says t h a t 'given its assumptions, H u m e ' s attack on certain theistic a r g u m e n t s is entirely successful'; ... Phillips concedes to H u m e ... t h a t we c a n n o t infer a god f r o m the world either by a design a r g u m e n t or a cosmological a r g u m e n t ; in fact ' T h e whole notion of a God a n d a n o t h e r world which we can infer f r o m the world we know is discredited'. 1 0 Ironically, I a m p r e p a r e d to give m o r e credit to H u m e ' s a r g u m e n t against metaphysical tendencies in the philosophy of religion t h a n M a c k i e is p r e p a r e d to give. W h y , given all his objections, does Mackie spend ten of the fourteen c h a p t e r s of his book coming to the wholly expected conclusion t h a t design a r g u m e n t s or cosmological a r g u m e n t s do not work? T h e a n s w e r lies in the fact t h a t Mackie, like so m a n y

philosophers of religion, can see no alternative way of discussing religious beliefs. H e equates philosophical theism with religious belief. H e refuses to call a n y t h i n g else an example of real religion. F u r t h e r , despite his occasional insights into its conceptual defects, for most of the time he discusses t h a t theism in terms of probabilities. For example, according to Mackie, G o d is a person w i t h o u t a body. I n his opinion, there could be such a person; there is n o t h i n g unintelligible in such a n a s s u m p t i o n . O f course, M a c k i e ' s conclusion is t h a t it is highly unlikely t h a t there are persons without bodies. T h e m a j o r i t y of philosophers today would not a r g u e in this way. T h e y would say t h a t the notion of a person without a body is meaningless. W e m a y speak of the soul a n d the body, b u t in doing so we are not talking of two s e p a r a t e elements in a h u m a n being. R a t h e r , we a r e talking of a h u m a n being u n d e r different aspects. O f course, the Bible does say t h a t G o d is a spirit, a n d t h a t they w h o w o r s h i p h i m should worship h i m in spirit a n d in t r u t h . Let's m a k e the philosophical substitution: ' G o d is a person w i t h o u t a b o d y a n d they w h o ...' O n the o t h e r h a n d , let's forget it! For Mackie, however, a n d for the m a j o r i t y of philosophical theists w h o a r g u e with him, all these m a t t e r s a r e m a t t e r s of probability. M y m a i n aim, at the m o m e n t , however, is not to enter into these disputes, b u t to b r i n g their character to y o u r attention. T h e y a r e disputes between opposing hypotheses, so that believer a n d non-believer m a y be said to hold opposite beliefs f r o m each other. But if this is still the d o m i n a n t way of philosophising a b o u t religion, then it fits in perfectly well with the methodological procedures proposed by T y l o r a n d Frazer: ' I t is only by the successive testing of hypotheses a n d rejection of the false t h a t t r u t h is at last elicited.' Speaking of such theories, E v a n s - P r i t c h a r d says: 'For the most p a r t the theories ... are, for anthropologists at least, as dead as m u t t o n , a n d today are chiefly of interest as specimens of the t h o u g h t of their time.' 1 1 W h a t e v e r we m a y say of anthropologists, a n i m i s m is alive a n d well a m o n g c o n t e m p o r a r y philosophers of religion. M o s t philosophers would say t h a t philosophers of religion a n d believers today have less excuse t h a n the primitives for their animistic practices. As we have seen, of the primitives, at least, it could be said that their hypotheses were justifiable at the time, although, now, a full experience h a s shown t h e m to be i n a d e q u a t e . But now, it seems, not everyone can have h a d a full experience, or, at least, not everyone could h a v e appreciated its significance,

since there a r e still people w h o believe in G o d . T h i s s t u b b o r n r e m n a n t , however, c a n h a r d l y expect the same consideration f r o m today's intellectuals as Frazer t h o u g h t he was giving to the primitives: ' W e shall do well to look with leniency u p o n their errors as inevitable slips m a d e in the search for truth.' 1 2 Now, as N o r m a n M a l c o l m points out, the tone is very different: In our W e s t e r n a c a d e m i c philosophy, religious belief is c o m m o n l y r e g a r d e d as u n r e a s o n a b l e a n d is viewed with condescension or even c o n t e m p t . It is said t h a t religion is a refuge for those who, because of weakness of intellect or c h a r a c t e r , a r e u n a b l e to confront the stern realities of the world. T h e objective, m a t u r e , strong a t t i t u d e is to hold beliefs solely on the basis of evidence,13 W h e n religious beliefs are discussed within the p a r a m e t e r s of these a s s u m p t i o n s the results a r e predictable enough: In A m e r i c a n universities there m u s t be h u n d r e d s of courses in which [proofs for the existence of G o d ] are the m a i n topic. W e can be sure that nearly always the critical verdict is t h a t the proofs are invalid a n d consequently that, u p to the present time a t least, religious belief has received no rational justification. 1 4 T h e s t u b b o r n r e m n a n t , it seems, is also a stupid r e m n a n t . Notice, all t h a t can be said on this view, is that up to the present time no rational justification has been given of religious belief. Echoing M a c k i e ' s sentiments in The Miracle of Theism, T . A . R o b e r t s says, For better or for worse we c a n n o t escape the fact t h a t we live in a n age w h e r e the fate of Christianity as a system of beliefs which can be afforded to the intelligent m a n is in the balance. A n d , for the most p a r t , w h a t accounts for this anti-religious conceptual turn today is the growth a n d d e v e l o p m e n t of our detailed knowledge of the workings of n a t u r e which c a m e in the wake of the scientific revolution since the seventeenth century. O n e consequence of this scientific knowledge is to m a k e m a n y things which it was reasonable to believe in the M i d d l e Ages or in the time of Calvin u n r e a s o n a b l e to believe in our age. If this is so, is

there any reasonable g r o u n d n o w for holding any religious belief? T h e strong message of M a c k i e ' s book is t h a t there is not. 1 5 But w h a t of the s t u b b o r n r e m n a n t ? Need Mackie's a r g u m e n t s deter them? N o t necessarily. As we h a v e already seen, they m i g h t well take on the a r g u m e n t s on their own terms. T h e y might be p r e p a r e d to a d m i t that, at the m o m e n t , the p r e p o n d e r a n c e of evidence is against belief in G o d , b u t r e m a i n convinced t h a t this is a t e m p o r a r y setback a n d t h a t sufficient evidence will t u r n u p sooner or later. Believing this, they continue, in the face of conflicting evidence, to believe in G o d . M o r e radically, they m a y be p r e p a r e d to a d m i t t h a t they have never h a d , a n d neither h a s a n y o n e else h a d , sufficient evidence for belief in G o d . Such evidence, it m a y be said, is never available in this life. T h e y believe, however, t h a t this evidence will be m a d e available after d e a t h . If asked for their reasons for believing this, they m a y give n o n e a p a r t f r o m their trust in the promises o f j e s u s , so u n d e r s t o o d , t h a t all will be m a d e known one day. T h e y might a r g u e t h a t the presence of sufficient evidence would destroy a n d negate the c h a r a c t e r of faith a n d the very need for faith. Faith, it might be said, is living in the trust a n d h o p e t h a t there is evidence for the existence of G o d in the absence of such evidence here a n d now. But, now, is a n y of this satisfactory? Let us recall t h a t the whole point of the philosophical enterprise was to establish t h e rationality of belief in G o d . In o r d e r to do this, however, there must surely be a correspondence between the subject of philosophical investigation a n d the subject of religious worship. Otherwise, of w h a t use would the philosophical reflections be if they concerned a philosophical fiction a n d not the G o d of Scripture? But w h e n we t u r n to Scripture it is patently obvious t h a t belief in God is not a m a t t e r of believers entertaining a hypothesis. It is not a m a t t e r of e m b r a c i n g the best available explanation given t h e evidence at h a n d . F a i t h does not seem to be readiness to p o s t p o n e a desire for evidence in the belief t h a t it will t u r n u p at a later d a t e or after d e a t h . All this is obvious f r o m countless passages f r o m the Bible, b u t let us simply q u o t e a well-known passage f r o m Psalm 139 to illustrate the point: W h i t h e r shall I go f r o m thy Spirit? or w h i t h e r shall I flee f r o m thy presence? If I ascend into heaven, thou art there: if I m a k e my bed in hell, behold thou art there. If I take

the wings of the m o r n i n g , a n d dwell in the u t t e r m o s t p a r t s of the sea; Even there shall thy h a n d lead me, a n d thy right h a n d shall hold me. If I say, surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light a b o u t me. Yea, the darkness h i d e t h not f r o m thee; but the night shineth as the day; t h e darkness a n d the light are both alike to thee. W h a t would be a foundationalist r e a d i n g of the psalm? ' W h i t h e r shall I go f r o m thy Spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend u p into heaven, it is highly p r o b a b l e t h a t thou art there: if I m a k e my bed in hell, behold it is highly p r o b a b l e t h a t thou art there also?' T h e following r e a d i n g fares no better: 'If I ascend u p into heaven, it is cumulatively a p p a r e n t t h a t thou a r e there; if I m a k e my bed in hell, behold it is cumulatively a p p a r e n t that thou art there also.' Surely, in the original 1 5 the Psalmist testifies to the inescapable reality of G o d . Inescapable? T h i s seems a far cry f r o m the c o m p e t i n g probabilities of the a r g u m e n t s of animistic philosophical foundationalism. As A.B. Davidson says, ' I t never occurred to a n y p r o p h e t or writer of the O l d T e s t a m e n t to prove the existence of G o d . ' 1 ' T h i s is quite a jolt to a n y o n e w h o believes t h a t people c a n n o t believe in something w i t h o u t proof or evidence. It seems as if all these writers were shirking their essential task: failing to a t t e m p t to prove G o d ' s existence or to seek evidence for his existence. T h e question of G o d ' s existence, as something for which evidence m u s t be sought, simply does not find a place in the traffic of their discourse. T h e y agree or disagree over w h e t h e r someone or something is of G o d , or f r o m G o d , but not over w h e t h e r there is a G o d at all. It is no good suggesting t h a t they p r e s u p p o s e d the existence of G o d , or took for g r a n t e d w h a t an o u t c o m e of an enquiry into it would be, since presupposing something, or taking the o u t c o m e of an e n q u i r y for g r a n t e d , is something we do, something which does enter the traffic of our language, a n d , in their case, there is no sign of their doing either. I t m a y be said that, for t h e m , G o d was manifest in all things; that his reality underlies their c o m m e r c e with each other. This is true, but, as we shall see, the f u n d a m e n t a l issue concerns the sense in which G o d ' s reality underlies their lives; is basic to them. W h a t e v e r of this, however, the G o d in question is certainly not t h o u g h t of as a god w h o may not exist. But, it might be said, we no longer live in the world of the Psalmist. I n t h a t world, it m a y have been possible to speak of the inescapable reality of G o d . I n a certain sense, G o d ' s reality

was taken for granted; all things spoke of h i m . But t h a t world is not our world. W e have already spoken of believers as a s t u b b o r n r e m n a n t . Since they are a r e m n a n t , is it not obvious that they have to give reasons to the unbelievers w h o s u r r o u n d t h e m for the Faith they still have to proclaim? W e do not live in a world in which G o d ' s reality is inescapable. O u r p r o b l e m , it seems, is not h o w to escape G o d , but how to find h i m . T h e r e a r e even theologians w h o say t h a t G o d c a n n o t be found on high. T h e y insist t h a t we should speak of h i m as d e e p inside us, b u t secular psychiatric a n d psychoanalytic explanations threaten to m o n o p o lise explanations of w h a t can be found there. H e i g h t a n d d e p t h : both d o m a i n s seem to be already a p p r o p r i a t e d . A s t r o n a u t s a n d analysts — between t h e m they seem to have covered the terrain. Given all this, how can we possibly say t h a t the Faith can be proclaimed without proof, evidence, a f o u n d a t i o n or a justification? T h i s a r g u m e n t , which seems so powerful, is, in fact, misleadingly seductive. S u p p o s e t h a t we g r a n t that believers m a k e u p w h a t we h a v e called a s t u b b o r n r e m n a n t . W e have already seen t h a t the G o d in w h o m they believe is one of w h o m it makes no sense to say that he m a y or m a y not exist. As Cornelius V a n Til says, T o ask whether the triune G o d of Scripture exists a n d whether the s p a c e - t i m e world is w h a t it is because of this G o d , is to p r e s u p p o s e t h a t a b s t r a c t possibility is back of G o d . A G o d of w h o m it is possible to ask intelligently whether he exists is not the God of Scripture. T h e G o d of Scripture is back of all possible eventuation in the space—time world. It is a n insult to this G o d to a r g u e for his possible existence. An a r g u m e n t for his possible existence presupposes the idea t h a t he m a y possibly not exist. B u t the God of Scripture tells us that he cannot possibly not exist. He presents himself as the selfreferential source of all that exists in the universe.18 F u r t h e r , for the believer, G o d is the sovereign m e a s u r e of all things. For him, how can such a m e a s u r e be subject to measurem e n t ? M a k i n g G o d subject to the assessment of probabilities makes him subject to criteria of assessment which seem to be endowed with greater a u t h o r i t y t h a n the divine object of the assessment. But, as C a m u s h a s said, he w h o s u b m i t s G o d to j u d g e m e n t kills h i m in his own heart. For the believer, it is the

sovereign G o d w h o j u d g e s m a n , not m a n w h o j u d g e s G o d . W h a t if the apologist w a n t s to convey the c h a r a c t e r of a G o d who is not to be j u d g e d , and whose reality c a n n o t be merely possible or probable, to a person w h o can m a k e little of such a notion? Could he do it by employing the m e t h o d s advocated by philosophical foundationalism? If, per impossibile, the sceptical e n q u i r e r is convinced by these m e t h o d s , the most he would be able to say is t h a t it is highly p r o b a b l e that there is a G o d . But, then, it would m a k e sense to say t h a t such a god might not exist. If this is so, then, whatever the apologist has conveyed, it c a n n o t be t h e notion of an inescapable G o d , since according to that notion, it does not m a k e sense to say t h a t G o d might not exist. T h e philosophical scandal mentioned at the outset consists precisely in this: we are asked to accept as the only a p p r o p r i a t e philosophical m e t h o d for establishing the rationality of religious belief, a m e t h o d which actually distorts the c h a r a c t e r of religious belief. T h e age in which we live m a y be extremely tentative a b o u t recognising the sense of belief in an inescapable G o d . But t h a t tentativeness is in people's relation to the belief. Tentativeness m u s t not be a d m i t t e d to the g r a m m a r of the belief itself. W h e n that is done, the logic of belief in an inescapable G o d is t u r n e d into a belief in a god who m a y or m a y not exist. But, is it not clear, as P l a n t i n g a h a s said, t h a t ' T h e m a t u r e believer, the m a t u r e theist, does not typically accept belief in G o d tentatively, or hypothetically, or until something better comes along. N o r ... does he accept it as a conclusion f r o m other things he believes.' 1 9 Yet, typically, epistemological foundationalism, which d o m i n a t e s c o n t e m p o r a r y philosophy of religion, depicts the religious believer in precisely this way. Something has gone wrong, something which c a n n o t be rectified until we examine some of the a s s u m p t i o n s which underlie foundationalism.

Notes 1 . W . K . Clifford, 'The Ethics of Belief in Lectures and Essays, (Macmillan, London, 1879), p. 184. 2. Ibid., p. 186. Both passages from Clifford are quoted by Alvin Plantinga in 'Reason and Belief in God' in Alvin Plantinga and Nicholas Wolterstorff (eds) Faith and Rationality (University of Notre D a m e Press, Indiana, 1983), pp. 24-5. 3. Alvin Plantinga, 'Is Belief in God Rational?' in C.F. Delaney (ed.) Rationality and Religious Belief (University of Notre Dame Press, 1979), p. 9. 4. J a m e s Frazer, The Golden Bough (abridged edn) (Macmillan, London, 1924), p. 264. 5. Richard Swinburne, The Coherence of Theism (Oxford University Press, 1977), The Existence of God (Oxford University Press, 1979), Faith and Reason (Oxford University Press, 1981). 6. Basil Mitchell, The Justification of Religious Belief (Macmillan, London, 1973). 7. D.Z. Phillips, Religion Without Explanation (Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1976). 8. J . L . Mackie, The Miracle of Theism (Oxford University Press, 1982), p. 149. My italics. 9. Ibid., p. 177. 10. Ibid., p. 222; quoting from Phillips, Religion Without Explanation, p. 21. 11. E.E. Evans-Pritchard, Theories of Primitive Religion (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1965), p. 100. 12. Frazer, Golden Bough, p. 264. 13. Norman Malcolm, 'The Groundlessness of Belief in Thought and Knowledge (Cornell University Press, 1977), p. 204. 14. Ibid. 15. T.A. Roberts, 'Crefydd a Rheswm' (Religion and Reason), Y Traethodydd, April 1984. My translation. 16. T h e two readings would represent Scripture if the philosophical views of Richard Swinburne and Basil Mitchell, respectively, were applied to it. 17. A.B. Davidson, Theology of the Old Testament (Edinburgh, 1904), p. 30. 18. Cornelius Van Til, A Christian Theory of Knowledge (Presbyterian and Reformed Publishing Co., New Jersey, 1969), p. 263. 19. Plantinga, 'Is Belief in God Rational?', p. 27.

2 The Reformed Challenge to Foundationalism

I n recent years, there h a s been a philosophical challenge to foundationalism by a g r o u p of philosophers w h o conform to, or, at least, are influenced by, one version or other of Calvinist R e f o r m e d theology. I a m not suggesting t h a t these philosophers agree entirely with each other; they do not. Some of the differences between t h e m m a y be regarded by t h e m as extremely i m p o r t a n t . For present purposes, however, it is their unity in their c o m m o n criticism a n d rejection of f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m which is of interest. I n this section I w a n t to give an outline of w h a t their philosophical challenge a m o u n t s to. T h e i r challenge to foundationalism begins f r o m a clear recognition of the scandal in the philosophy of religion we discussed in the previous section. T h e y see t h a t no philosophical system in which it makes sense to speculate a b o u t G o d ' s existence as t h o u g h it were a m a t t e r of probability can do justice to the notion of G o d ' s inescapable reality. T o e m b r a c e such a system, a system which has d o m i n a t e d philosophical reflection a b o u t religion since the E n l i g h t e n m e n t , is already to p r e s u p p o s e the necessary answerability of religious belief to criteria of intelligibility wider t h a n itself. Cornelius V a n Til voices his misgivings a b o u t this presupposition as follows: T h e essence of the non-Christian position is t h a t m a n is assumed to be ultimate or a u t o n o m o u s . M a n is thought of as the final reference point in predication. T h e facts of his e n v i r o n m e n t are 'just there'; they are a s s u m e d to have come into being by chance. Possibility is placed above both G o d a n d m a n alike. T h e laws of logic are assumed as somehow operative in the universe, or at least as legislative for w h a t

m a n can or c a n n o t accept as possible or probable. If a god exists, he m u s t at least be subject to conditions t h a t are similar to, if not the same as, those to which h u m a n i t y is subject. 1 T h e R e f o r m e d epistemologists (as I shall call them) point out that it is simply a s s u m e d in foundationalism t h a t belief in the existence of G o d is a belief which s t a n d s in need of evidence. As we have seen, the evidence is to be provided by the relation in which the belief stands to propositions which constitute the f o u n d a t i o n s of our beliefs, propositions for the t r u t h of which no evidence is needed. Again, it is simply a s s u m e d t h a t belief in G o d c a n n o t a p p e a r in these f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions. T h e essence of the R e f o r m e d challenge is to ask the foundationalist how he knows this. T h e foundationalist claims to walk by reason alone. Therefore, if reason tells him which propositions are properly foundational, a n d which are not, he seems to have in his possession a rational criterion for f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions, a criterion of basicality. By reference to this criterion it could be seen w h e t h e r belief in G o d can function as a f o u n d a t i o n a l proposition. T h e R e f o r m e d philosophers challenge the foundationalist to m a k e this criterion explicit. T h e y a r g u e t h a t he cannot, because he does not possess any such criterion. But in the absence of such a criterion to a d j u d i c a t e between propositions which claim to be basic propositions, how can the foundationalist say that belief in G o d c a n n o t a p p e a r a m o n g basic propositions? H a v i n g stated the Reformed challenge in b r o a d outline, let us look at it in more detail, initially, in the version of it we find in the a r g u m e n t s of Alvin Plantinga. P l a n t i n g a puts the case as follows: S u p p o s e we say that the assemblage of beliefs a person holds, together with the various logical a n d epistemic relations that hold a m o n g them, constitutes t h a t person's noetic structure. N o w ... for each person S there is a set F of beliefs such t h a t a proposition/) is rational or rationally acceptable for S only if p is evident with respect to F — only if, t h a t is, the propositions in evidence constitute, on balance, evidence for p. Let us say that this set F of propositions is the foundation of S's noetic structure. O n this view every noetic s t r u c t u r e has a foundation; a n d a proposition is rational for

S, or known by S, or certain for S, only if it s t a n d s in the a p p r o p r i a t e relation to the f o u n d a t i o n o f S ' s noetic structure. S u p p o s e we call this view foundationalism ... M i g h t it not be that my belief in G o d is itself in the f o u n d a t i o n s of my noetic structure? P e r h a p s it is a m e m b e r of F, in which case, of course, it will automatically be evident with respect to F.2 Plantinga r e m i n d s us of the force which f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions are m e a n t to play: T h e propositions in F, of course, a r e not inferred f r o m other propositions a n d are not accepted on the basis of other propositions. I know the propositions of my noetic structure, but not by virtue of knowing other propositions; for these are the ones I start with. A n d so the question the foundationalist asks a b o u t belief in G o d , namely, w h a t is the evidence for it — is not properly asked a b o u t the m e m b e r s of F; these items d o n ' t require to be evident with respect to other propositions in o r d e r to be rationally believed. Accordingly, says the foundationalist, not j u s t a n y proposition is c a p a b l e of functioning foundationally; to be so c a p a b l e with respect to a person S, a proposition m u s t not need the evidential s u p p o r t of other propositions; it m u s t be such t h a t it is possible that S knew p b u t have no evidence for p.3 W h a t kinds of propositions are capable of functioning foundationally? Philosophers have differed in the answers they give to this question, b u t these differences will not be i m p o r t a n t as far as the Reformed challenge to f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m is concerned. T h e challenge r e m a i n s essentially the s a m e no m a t t e r w h a t candidates a r e a d v a n c e d as f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions. T h e most favoured candidates a d v a n c e d are, u n d o u b t e d l y , self-evident propositions a n d incorrigible propositions relating to the senses. T h e s e propositions, such as 2 + 1 = 3 a n d 'I seem to see a red p a t c h ' , have e m b a r r a s s e d those w h o w a n t to claim that their belief in G o d functions foundationally. T h e proposition t h a t G o d exists is neither self-evident nor incorrigible, so it seems t h a t it c a n n o t function foundationally in any noetic structure. But w h a t if the theist, true to his u n d e r s t a n d i n g of his noetic structure, insists that belief in G o d is the f o u n d a t i o n of it? W h a t if he insists t h a t G o d ' s reality is evident to him, b u t is not based on the evidential support of other propositions? Clearly, the

foundationalist will w a n t to know by w h a t right the theist places his belief in God in the f o u n d a t i o n s of his noetic structure. H e w a n t s the theist to p r o d u c e a reason for doing so. P l a n t i n g a a d m i t s t h a t the theist will be h a r d pressed to answer. But, P l a n t i n g a insists, the foundationalist is equally h a r d pressed if the same question is asked of him. He, too, is e m b a r r a s s e d if asked to give a justifying reason why he places his propositions in the f o u n d a t i o n s of his noetic structure. Let us consider the two favoured classes of f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions. First, self-evident propositions. T h e s e are said to have epistemic a n d phenomenological properties. T h e epistemic p r o p e r t y is that of simply being seen to be true once u n d e r s t o o d . T h e phenomenological property is the luminous a u r a which a c c o m p a n i e s t h e m a n d leads us to accept t h e m , or which m a y be our impulsion to accept them. But, Plantinga argues, it is conceivable that we could be sure of these characteristics a n d yet it be the case that the propositions we think are self-evident are not self-evident. W e need a criterion, therefore, by which to show that the propositions we take to be self-evident, really are selfevident. But if the criterion p r o d u c e d is said to be self-evident, the same question of how we can be sure can be asked of it, a n d so on ad infinitum. It seems t h a t our justifications can have no end. Plantinga asks, ' H o w does the foundationalist know — how does a n y o n e know — that, indeed, a given proposition is selfevident? H o w do we tell? I s n ' t it possible t h a t a proposition should seem to be self-evident w h e n in fact it is not?' 4 T h e foundationalist is revealed as someone w h o takes on trust the proposition that w h a t seems to be self-evident is very likely to be true, a n d the proposition t h a t most propositions which a p p e a r to be self-evident really are self-evident. But neither of these propositions, which he takes on trust, is self-evident. T h e foundationalist has no reason for accepting them. H e simply c o m m i t s himself to them. Yet it is this very c o m m i t m e n t t h a t he objects to in the religious believer. P l a n t i n g a says of the foundationalist: ' W e might say t h a t he c o m m i t s himself to the trustworthiness of his noetic e q u i p m e n t . M o r e elegantly, he c o m m i t s himself to the reliability of his epistemic e n d o w m e n t . ' 5 It is i m p o r t a n t to recognise that w h e n the foundationalist expresses his conviction that most propositions which seem self-evident are self-evident a n d that w h a t a p p e a r s to be self-evident is very likely to be true, he has not arrived at this conviction as the result of a n y kind of investigation. O n the contrary, the c o m m i t m e n t is in a d v a n c e of any investigation a n d

plays a f o u n d a t i o n a l role in the s u b s e q u e n t investigations. So the foundationalist w h o says t h a t only w h a t is self-evident should play a f o u n d a t i o n a l role in a noetic s t r u c t u r e , a n d t h a t this is dictated by reason, in fact commits himself to the reliability of these epistemic p r o c e d u r e s without reason. As we saw, the f o u n d a t i o n a l i s t objects to the religious believer ascribing a f o u n d a t i o n a l role to his belief in G o d in his noetic structure. H e accuses h i m of h a v i n g no reason for doing so. But, as we have j u s t shown, the f o u n d a t i o n a l i s t h a s no criterion by which he can d e m o n s t r a t e the reliability of t h e propositions he places in the f o u n d a t i o n s of his noetic s t r u c t u r e . H e simply trusts in his practice of d o i n g so. But in t h a t case, w h y should not the religious believer trust in his practice too? P l a n t i n g a gives the following verdict on the foundationalist: H e m e a n s to c o m m i t himself to reason a n d to n o t h i n g more; he therefore declares irrational any noetic s t r u c t u r e t h a t contains more — belief in G o d , for e x a m p l e — in its foundations. But here there is no reason for the theist to follow his example; the believer is not obliged to take his word for it. So far we have f o u n d no reason a t all for excluding belief in G o d f r o m the foundations; so f a r we have found no reason at all for believing that belief in G o d c a n n o t be basic in a rational noetic s t r u c t u r e . T o a c c e p t belief in G o d as basic is clearly not irrational in t h e sense of being proscribed by reason or in conflict with t h e deliverances of reason. T h e d i c t u m that belief in G o d is n o t basic in a rational noetic s t r u c t u r e is neither a p p a r e n t l y self-evident nor a p p a r e n t l y incorrigible. Nor does it seem to be a deductive consequence of w h a t is self-evident or incorrigible. Is there, then, a n y reason a t all for h o l d i n g t h a t a noetic s t r u c t u r e including belief in G o d as b a s i c is irrational? If there is, it r e m a i n s to be specified. 6 T o m a n y , this conclusion m a y a p p e a r unsatisfactory a n d inconclusive, for while it is the case t h a t t h e f o u n d a t i o n a l i s t can offer no criterion by which belief in G o d c a n b e excluded f r o m the f o u n d a t i o n s of a noetic s t r u c t u r e , it is also t h e case t h a t the theist can offer no criterion by w h i c h the belief s h o u l d be included. Foundationalist a n d theist s e e m to share a c o m m o n failure: neither can p r o d u c e a criterion for p r o p e r basicality. I n the absence of suqh a criterion it m a y be asked w h y any p r o p o s i t i o n could not

be placed in the foundations of a noetic structure. Plantinga a t t e m p t s to meet this objection by saying t h a t we do not need a criterion of basicality before we can accept certain propositions as basic in our noetic structures. H e argues that we recognise, in certain circumstances, the p r o p e r basicality of certain propositions without actually forming any formal criteria. O f course, it may turn out that we should not have accepted as basic certain propositions which we t h o u g h t were basic. T h a t fact in itself, however, should not lead us to leap to the irrational conclusion that all propositions which seem to us self-evident or incorrigible are not, in fact, self-evident or incorrigible. O u r procedures, in these matters, Plantinga says, will be inductive: ' W e m u s t assemble examples of beliefs a n d conditions such that the former are obviously properly basic in the latter, a n d examples of beliefs a n d conditions such that the former are obviously not properly basic in the latter.' 7 This reference to the obviousness of the propriety or impropriety of the c a n d i d a t e s for basic propositions should not lead us to think that we can p r o d u c e a neat set of necessary a n d sufficient conditions for basicality on which every one will agree. It is no p a r t of P l a n t i n g a ' s case to claim that such conditions can be produced. T h e situation we find ourselves in is messier t h a n that. T h e circumstances will vary enormously. In some it m a y be possible to p r o d u c e no more than some necessary conditions a n d some sufficient conditions. In any case, we must always be ready, he claims, to revise these conditions in the light of new theories. Plantinga's procedure, then, relies on a consideration of the particular examples in question. T h e r e is no reason to believe, however, that everyone will agree a b o u t the examples. Obviously, the non-believer will not assent to the example of the religious noetic structure in which belief in G o d functions foundationally, although he m a y a d m i t that the believer has behaved appropriately with respect to his epistemic claims. But, of course, he believes t h a t the believer has an erroneous point of d e p a r t u r e . In the same way, however, the believer holds t h a t the nonbeliever's exclusion of belief in G o d f r o m the f o u n d a t i o n s of his noetic s t r u c t u r e is erroneous. It does not follow, for Plantinga, that no question of truth is involved. T h e question of t r u t h is now raised at the level of the clashing noetic structures. P l a n t i n g a says: O f course it does not follow t h a t there is no t r u t h of the matter; if our criteria conflict, then at least one of t h e m is

mistaken, even if we c a n n o t by f u r t h e r discussion agree as to which it is. Similarly, either I a m mistaken in holding t h a t B (belief in God) is properly basic in C (certain conditions), or you are mistaken in holding t h a t it is not. Still f u r t h e r , if I am mistaken in this m a t t e r , then if I take B to be basic in C — that is, if I a m in C a n d believe B w i t h o u t the evidential s u p p o r t of o t h e r beliefs — then I a m irrational in so doing. Particularism does not imply subjectivism. 8 So a l t h o u g h neither believer nor unbeliever can give the other a reason why belief in God is or is not a f o u n d a t i o n a l belief, it r e m a i n s a fact t h a t one or the other is mistaken in his claim. W h a t being mistaken a m o u n t s to, it seems, is u n a n a l y s e d in this context. I t m a y be t h o u g h t t h a t because P l a n t i n g a conceives o f h i s views as an attack on foundationalism, he thinks belief in the existence of G o d is groundless. T h i s is not so. A l t h o u g h the relations between the conditions in which we believe in G o d a n d the belief itself are not evidential, this does not m e a n t h a t there are n o relations between t h e m . W h a t P l a n t i n g a h a s to say a b o u t these is illustrated best by the second class of propositions which foundationalists have placed in the f o u n d a t i o n s of our noetic structures, namely, incorrigible propositions of sense experience. If I say I see a tree, my belief in its existence is not based on the evidence of my seeing the tree or on my being a p p e a r e d treely to, to use C h i s h o l m ' s language. Nevertheless, P l a n t i n g a argues, these experiences play a vital p a r t in the f o r m a t i o n of m y belief. P l a n t i n g a says, my being a p p e a r e d to in this characteristic w a y (together with o t h e r circumstances) is w h a t confers on me the right to hold the belief in question; this is w h a t justifies m e in accepting it. W e could say, if we wish, t h a t this experience is w h a t justifies m e in holding it; this is the ground of my justification, a n d , by extension, the g r o u n d of the belief itself. 9 I n a similar way, P l a n t i n g a w a n t s to a r g u e t h a t belief in G o d , a l t h o u g h not d e p e n d e n t on evidence for being known, is also g r o u n d e d in a n d justified by the conditions in which it is held. T h e s e conditions are experiences in which the believer is a w a r e of G o d in his creation, a w a r e of G o d ' s anger at his sins, a w a r e

of G o d ' s presence a n d of the need to t h a n k a n d praise him, a n d so on. If we were to speak strictly, P l a n t i n g a says, belief in G o d is not properly basic. W h a t is properly basic are such beliefs as ' G o d is speaking to me', ' G o d has created all this', ' G o d is to be t h a n k e d a n d praised'. P l a n t i n g a concludes: ' I t is not the relatively high-level a n d general proposition God exists that is properly basic, b u t instead propositions detailing some of his attributes a n d actions.' 1 0 In this way, it can be seen t h a t religious beliefs are not groundless or gratuitous. It m a y be thought in the light of Plantinga's emphasis on the basicality of propositions that he has left little room for a r g u m e n t with respect to them. T h i s is a n impression he is anxious to correct. H e raises the worry someone m a y have a b o u t the believer who accepts belief in G o d as basic: Does it not follow that he will hold this belief in such a way t h a t no a r g u m e n t could move him or cause him to give it up? Will he not hold it come w h a t m a y , in the teeth of a n y evidence or a r g u m e n t with which he could be presented? Does he not thereby a d o p t a posture in which a r g u m e n t a n d other rational m e t h o d s of settling d i s a g r e e m e n t s are implicitly declared irrelevant? 1 1 In P l a n t i n g a ' s view, real t h o u g h the worry is, it is not one which need be caused by a n y t h i n g he h a s said. Let us suppose t h a t belief in G o d clashes with some other basic propositions in the noetic structure. T h e propositions c a n n o t rationally co-exist with each other, so a choice h a s to be m a d e between t h e m . I n this way, a believer m a y become an atheist a n d an atheist m a y b e c o m e a believer. T h e r e f o r e a person w h o holds that belief in G o d is properly basic does not hold the belief dogmatically. T h e mere possibility that he m a y be w r o n g m e a n s that, strictly speaking, w h a t we have called the justifying conditions of basic propositions are, in fact, only prima-facie, r a t h e r t h a n ultima-facie all-thingsconsidered, justifications. A proposition m a y be p u t to m e which seems self-evident to me. Accepting it m a y entail t h a t I can no longer hold on to my belief in G o d . P l a n t i n g a says: we m a y say t h a t justification for p me). Defeaters, defeaters, for the

a condition t h a t overrides my prima-facie is defeating condition or defeater for p (for of course, a r e themselves prima-facie defeater can be defeated. P e r h a p s I spot

a fallacy in the initially convincing a r g u m e n t ; p e r h a p s I discover a convincing a r g u m e n t for the denial of one of its premises; p e r h a p s I learn on reliable a u t h o r i t y t h a t someone else h a s d o n e one of these things. T h e n the defeater is defeated, a n d I a m once again within my rights in accepting p. O f course a similar r e m a r k m u s t be m a d e a b o u t defeaterdefeaters: they are subject to defeat by defeater-defeaterdefeaters a n d so on. 1 2 It m u s t be b o r n e in m i n d , however, t h a t if a potential defeater is defeated, where belief in G o d is concerned, it does not follow t h a t belief in the defeater-defeater is the f o u n d a t i o n of my original belief. P l a n t i n g a recognises that more needs to be said on all these issues. H e says t h a t he has been talking a b o u t weak justifications, the justifications which enable us to say we believe something. But w h a t if there a r e strong justifications, justifications which enable us to say we know something? In the case o f ' I see a tree', w h e t h e r the justification is strong or weak, no question a b o u t the c h a r a c t e r of the justifying experience need arise w h e n I say 'I see a tree'. Are there strong justifications w h e r e religious belief is concerned? W h a t if the justifying experiences he has m e n t i o n e d , experience of G o d in his creation, of G o d ' s anger, of the need to t h a n k a n d praise G o d , constitute strongjustifications, the justifications which enable us to say not simply that we believe G o d exists, b u t t h a t we know God exists? But w h e t h e r the justification is strong or weak no question or belief regarding its character need arise in the condition which enables the believer to say he believes in G o d . T h e y m a y a n d do arise in the course of philosophical discussion, b u t they need not arise in the life of a believer w h e n he comes to believe or holds on to his belief. T h e implications of this admission, which P l a n t i n g a does not discuss have, as we shall see, far-reaching implications for his a r g u m e n t s against foundationalism. In the light of P l a n t i n g a ' s attack on foundationalism, w h a t kind of rationality, w h a t kind of coherence, can be ascribed to belief in God? T h e answer is the kind g u a r a n t e e d by 'negative coherence theories'. W e have not been provided with a criterion which can d e t e r m i n e w h e t h e r belief in G o d should be placed in the f o u n d a t i o n s of a noetic structure. W h a t we have seen, however, is that no good reason has been given to show why this should

n o t be d o n e . W i l l i a m P. A l s t o n p u t s t h e m a t t e r b y s a y i n g t h a t while f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m holds o u r e p i s t e m i c p r a c t i c e s guilty u n t i l p r o v e d i n n o c e n t , in R e f o r m e d e p i s t e m o l o g y , o u r e p i s t e m i c p r a c t i c e s a r e held to be i n n o c e n t u n t i l p r o v e d guilty. T h e difficulty is t h a t n o j u s t i f i c a t i o n of a n e p i s t e m i c p r a c t i c e c a n be given w i t h o u t i n v o k i n g t h e very p r a c t i c e o n e is p r e t e n d i n g to j u s t i f y . A l s t o n says: O u r only r e a s o n for s u p p o s i n g t h a t m e m o r y is g e n e r a l l y reliable is t h a t its p a s t t r a c k r e c o r d is a good one, a n d w e h a v e n o w a y of a s c e r t a i n i n g t h a t w i t h o u t relying o n m e m o r y . A g a i n , it is obviously i m p o s s i b l e to argue for the reliability of r e a s o n i n g w i t h o u t relying o n r e a s o n to d o so. A n d so on. 1 3 So w h e n t h e f o u n d a t i o n a l i s t asks religious believers to p r o v i d e e x t e r n a l j u s t i f i c a t i o n s for their e p i s t e m i c p r a c t i c e s , a n d t h e y fail to p r o v i d e t h e m , w h a t w e n e e d to r e m e m b e r is t h a t n o e p i s t e m i c p r a c t i c e is b e t t e r off t h a n religious e p i s t e m i c p r a c t i c e s in this respect.

Notes 1. Van Til, A Christian Theory of Knowledge, pp. 12-13. 2. Plantinga, 'Is Belief in God Rational?', pp. 12-13. 3. Ibid., p. 13. 4. Ibid., p. 21. 5. Ibid., p. 24. 6. Ibid., p. 26. 7. Plantinga, 'Reason and Belief in God', p. 76. 8. Ibid., p. 78. 9. Ibid., p. 79. 10. Ibid., p. 81. 11. Ibid., p. 82. 12. Ibid., p. 84. 13. William P. Alston, 'Christian Experience and Christian Belief in Alvin Plantinga and Nicholas Wolterstorff (eds), Faith and Rationality, (University of Notre Dame Press, Indiana, 1983) p. 119.

3 Preliminary Criticism of the Reformed Challenge

T h e essence of the R e f o r m e d challenge is to accuse the foundationalist of claiming to have a criterion of rationality which, in fact, he does not possess. By m e a n s of this alleged criterion the foundationalist claims to discern which epistemic practices are rational a n d which are not. A m o n g those practices which are not rational, he claims, are those of religion. In criticising the R e f o r m e d challenge to foundationalism, it is no p a r t of my intention to deny the conclusion t h a t f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m fails to provide a coherent account of the reason, by reference to which, the rationality of epistemic practices is to be j u d g e d . T h e difficulties are in the route by which Reformed philosophers reach these conclusions. H e r e is the s a m e conclusion arrived at by a r g u m e n t s f r o m a r a t h e r different philosophical perspective. J . D . K e n y o n says: there is an a t t i t u d e which is p e r h a p s characteristic of scientific d o g m a t i s m , namely t h a t since God is something we can never really know a b o u t , agnosticism is intellectually more p r o p e r than either theism or atheism. I f ' k n o w ' implies only internal justification, the premiss is false; if it implies external justification, it is true, but so is the parallel premiss for the physical world, a n d the d o g m a t i s m consists in not d r a w i n g the s a m e conclusion for belief on t h a t topic as well. T h e mistake is to let the word 'know' go on holiday a b r o a d from its religious h o m e a n d engage in the entirely spurious activity of u n d e r m i n i n g the function it has at home. Holidays are for rest. T h e scientism consists in acknowledging this for the word 'know' as it occurs internally to science, but not otherwise. 1

But there is one big difference b e t w e e n K e n y o n ' s r e m a r k s a n d Plantinga's a r g u m e n t s . W h e n K e n y o n refers to the a t t e m p t to give external justifications to epistemic practices he says t h a t in the a t t e m p t language goes on holiday. In other words, the a t t e m p t is confused a n d misconceived. P l a n t i n g a , on the other h a n d , says t h a t the a t t e m p t fails. H e does not say it is confused or unintelligible. Failure is not an instance of l a n g u a g e on holiday, or of language idling. F u r t h e r , in w h a t he asks us to i m a g i n e as he illustrates the failure of the foundationalist, P l a n t i n g a shows how far removed he is, philosophically, f r o m those w h o accuse foundationalism not of failure, b u t of confusion. T h i s d i s t a n c e is revealed most clearly in P l a n t i n g a ' s discussion of basic propositions. As we have seen, the f u n d a m e n t a l issue for R e f o r m e d epistemology is w h e t h e r the believer is justified in placing belief in G o d in the f o u n d a t i o n s of his noetic structure. T o show t h a t he is not justified in doing so, it is a r g u e d , we need a criterion of basicality by reference to which it could be shown t h a t the selfevident a n d incorrigible propositions, favoured by the foundationalist, should be a m o n g t h e f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions, a n d t h a t belief in G o d should not. B u t no such criterion can be found. I n its absence, how d o we know, P l a n t i n g a asks, w h e t h e r the propositions we say a r e self-evident a n d incorrigible really a r e self-evident or incorrigible. H e replies t h a t w h a t we h a v e is not knowledge, but trust. Yet it is a trust in face of the possibility t h a t all our epistemic practices could be wrong. But w h a t if the whole notion of an external justification of epistemic practices, of the kind P l a n t i n g a is seeking, is confused? I n t h a t event, the possibility of their being w r o n g is also confused. If showing t h a t the practices are correct is confused, so is showing t h a t they are incorrect. Alston, we recall, m a r k e d the difference between the foundationalists a n d R e f o r m e d epistemologists by saying t h a t for the former, our epistemic practices are guilty until proved innocent, whereas, for the latter, they are innocent until proved guilty. But if the notion of external justification is a confused one in this context, it makes no sense to call o u r epistemic practices innocent or guilty. W e might say, with Wittgenstein, t h a t they are simply there, like our life. P l a n t i n g a is able to c o n t e m p l a t e all our epistemic practices being w r o n g because of his i n t r o d u c t i o n of a relativism a n d psychologism into epistemology which confuse the f u n d a m e n t a l philosophical issues involved.

Consider, first, his discussion of simple self-evident propositions in arithmetic, such as 2 + 1 = 3. P l a n t i n g a says U n d e r s t a n d i n g a self-evident proposition is sufficient for a p p r e h e n d i n g its truth. O f course this notion must be relativized to persons', w h a t is self-evident to you might not be to me. Very simple arithmetical t r u t h s will be self-evident to nearly all of us; b u t a t r u t h like 17 + 18 = 35 m a y be self-evident only to some. A n d of course a proposition is self-evident to a person only if he does in fact grasp it; so a proposition will not be self-evident to those w h o do not a p p r e h e n d the concepts involved in the proposition." H e r e is a good e x a m p l e of P l a n t i n g a conflating logical a n d psychological considerations. T h e self-evidence of the arithmetical proposition is m a d e a function of a n individual's reaction. P l a n t i n g a says that simple arithmetical propositions a r e selfevident to nearly all of us. But if self-evidence is a function of an individual's grasp, w h a t is it t h a t the minority can be said to fail to grasp? His relativism makes the self-evidence of 2 + 1 = 3 a strangely intermittent affair: self-evident w h e n one of the m a j o r i t y h a p p e n s to react to it, b u t not self-evident w h e n one of the minority reacts to it. It is as if the minority lack a certain experience, an intuition, p e r h a p s , which the m a j o r i t y possess w h e n they react to 2 + 1 = 3 . Some have an intuition of self-evidence, b u t others do not. Does teaching someone 2 + 1 = 3 m a k e any reference to these individual experiences or intuitions? Normally we would not refer to any experiences we h a d in writing or thinking a b o u t 2 + 1 = 3, a n d in trying to teach a child we w o u l d n ' t w a n t to know w h a t experiences, if any, he was having either. W h a t we w a n t to try to do is to get the child to go on in a certain way, the way we call the correct way in arithmetic. O f course, w h a t we m e a n by 'correct' is not i n d e p e n d e n t of how people respond, but the responses in question are within the activity we call arithmetic. If a child does not respond in a certain way, it m a y be because he has m a d e a mistake, a mistake we correct by making use of arithmetical procedures. W h a t if the child were to say t h a t he h a d h a d certain experiences, certain intuitions, in arriving at the right answer? W h a t if he said he h a d arrived at the right a n s w e r without a n y of these experiences? I n either case, would not the presence or absence of these experiences be q u i t e irrelevant to

w h a t is m e a n t by the correct answer? Sometimes, the conviction t h a t learning m u s t involve having an experience is confused with the correct observation that the child m u s t be b r o u g h t to calculate for himself. T h e child m u s t not be simply memorising the next n u m b e r in the series. C o r r e c t i n g his mistakes is not a m a t t e r of getting h i m to conform to w h a t the m a j o r i t y are doing. T h e teacher tries to get the child to see his mistakes for himself. H e will point out his mistake by getting the child to see how he has calculated elsewhere a n d so on. W h a t if the child said t h a t his h a v i n g h a d a certain experience was sufficient to show t h a t he h a d seen his mistake? W o u l d t h a t convince the teacher? H a r d l y . If there were a teacher w h o accepted the assurance, then it would soon reveal its worthlessness if the child continued to m a k e the s a m e mistake. So w h e n the teacher e n d e a v o u r s to get the child to see for himself the mistake he has m a d e , his endeavours do not d e p e n d on the presence of certain experiences in the child. 3 By relativising a n d psychologising the notion of self-evidence P l a n t i n g a makes the reaction of the individual all-important a n d self-evidence a mere f u n c t i o n of it. H e puts the emphasis on the individual's psychology instead of on the practice. But w h a t of the more radical case where we m a y fail to teach the child? I refer to situations in which we c a n n o t get the child to go on in the s a m e way at all, c a n n o t get the child to count. W h a t if the child r e m a i n s tentative a b o u t 2 + 1 = 3 , accepting it some days, but u n a b l e to g r a s p it on others? D o we say t h a t the m a t t e r is simply not self-evident to the child? O f course not. W h a t this p a r t i c u l a r child needs is not correction, b u t training. As yet, the child is not in a position to m a k e arithmetical mistakes. If training in a r i t h m e t i c is unsuccessful, the point of saying t h a t c a n n o t be b r o u g h t out by saying t h a t one psychological reaction h a p p e n s to be different from the psychological reactions of the majority. T h e child is cut off f r o m a practice, the practice of arithmetic. W h a t is at stake is not the absence of self-evidence, understood as a function of a reaction lacking in the child, b u t a child's lack of ability to engage in a certain practice. Exclusion from the practice m e a n s exclusion f r o m the m y r i a d ways in which c o u n t i n g a n d calculating enter our lives. T h e question of w h e t h e r something a p p e a r s to be self-evident to a person is different f r o m the question of w h e t h e r a person can see w h a t is self-evident. P l a n t i n g a ' s relativism a n d psychologism lead h i m to conflate these questions. T h e self-evidence of 2 + 1 = 3

does not e m a n a t e f r o m the epistemic a n d phenomenological properties of the proposition considered in relation to the reactions of an isolated individual. T h e proposition enjoys its self-evident status in arithmetic. It is within the practice that the proposition has its application a n d its sense. T h i s e m p h a s i s on the practice is something on which, as we have seen, P l a n t i n g a himself relies in o r d e r to meet the objection t h a t , in the absence of a criterion of basicality, anything, for example, belief in the G r e a t P u m p k i n , could be a basic proposition. H e emphasises, quite rightly, that in certain circumstances, it is obvious that something is properly basic. H e says, as we saw, ' W e m u s t assemble examples of beliefs a n d conditions such t h a t the f o r m e r are obviously properly basic in the latter, a n d examples of beliefs a n d conditions such t h a t the former are obviously not properly basic in the latter.' 4 Notice, beliefs a n d conditions. T h e s e conditions are our practices. W e do not have a n y choice a b o u t where to look. W i t h o u t a p p e a l to these conditions, P l a n t i n g a could not appeal either to w h a t is 'obviously properly basic', for it is within practices t h a t the notions of 'obviousness' a n d ' w h a t is p r o p e r ' have their p u r c h a s e . But in relativising these notions to the reactions of individuals, P l a n t i n g a is cutting a w a y the g r o u n d of the a r g u m e n t he needs to deny t h a t anything could be properly basic. It m a y be t h o u g h t , in the later developments of P l a n t i n g a ' s a r g u m e n t , t h a t nothing prevents him f r o m acknowledging t h a t basic religious propositions have their status within religious practices. Yet, this is not so, for once P l a n t i n g a makes f o u n d a t i o n less practices his final appeal, r a t h e r t h a n foundationless propositions, m u c h of his strategy against f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m is u n d e r m i n e d , a strategy which d e p e n d e d on considering f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions in isolation a n d asking for a criterion for their basicality. T h i s is seen in Plantinga's m o r e radical proposal t h a t all our epistemic practices could be mistaken. Speaking of the foundationalist, he asks: H o w does he know t h a t a given proposition — 7 + 5 = 12, for example, — is self-evident? M i g h t we not be mistaken in o u r j u d g e m e n t s of self-evidence? I t seems obviously possible t h a t there should be a race of persons — on some other planet, let's say — w h o think they find other propositions self-evident, some of those others being denials

of propositions we find self-evident. P e r h a p s this race invariably makes mistakes a b o u t w h a t is self-evident. B u t might not the same thing be true of us? A proposition is self-evident, after all, only if it is true; a n d it certainly seems possible that we should believe a proposition self-evident w h e n in fact it is not. 5 W h a t are we to m a k e of this supposition? O n e of its features is its lack of content. W e are not told w h a t activities the people on the other planet are supposed to be engaged in. W h a t if the activity has no resemblance to arithmetic? S u p p o s e t h a t the m a r k s 7 + 5 = 12 only a p p e a r on w a l l p a p e r p a t t e r n s . Gould we find out w h e t h e r 7 + 5 = 12 in t h a t context was a self-evident proposition by concentrating, however, intensely, on the m a r k s a n d waiting on our individual reactions? O f course not. I n t h a t context the question would not m a k e sense. M o r e i m p o r t a n t l y , w h a t if the activity on the other planet which Plantinga has in mind is some kind of alternative arithmetic? P l a n t i n g a is quite right in insisting t h a t no external justification of our a r i t h m e t i c can be given to show it is the right arithmetic, b u t quite w r o n g to conclude that, consequently, the whole of our a r i t h m e t i c could be mistaken. Because he allows this to be a possibility, we shall see, t h a t in denying t h a t there can be an external justification of arithmetic, P l a n t i n g a is engaged on a very different enterprise from t h a t of Wittgenstein when the latter said that justification m u s t come to an end somewhere. P l a n t i n g a is still in the grip of the f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m he set out to criticise. Like Plantinga, R u s h Rhees, in his discussion of Wittgenstein's ideas in 1938 on continuity, asks us to imagine a society where, in certain circumstances, the e l e m e n t a r y conclusions in a r i t h m e t i c are not d r a w n : But w h a t I a m suggesting is t h a t we can imagine a c o m m u n i t y in which circumstances — special conditions in which arithmetic was applied, p e r h a p s , or c o m b i n a t i o n s of ancient customs — inclined people to say t h a t if you a d d in t h a t way, then the result of a d d i n g 3 to 3 is 5. T h e y m i g h t say that if you said a n y t h i n g else you would not be following the elementary rules of addition. 6 W e a r e t e m p t e d , w h e n faced with an example of this kind, to say that, if these people are doing arithmetic, they cannot calculate in

this way. W e m a y say that the m e a n i n g o f ' 3 ' d e t e r m i n e s t h a t we calculate as we do. But does it? Rhees says t h a t to speak in this way is to speak 'as though a r i t h m e t i c s p r a n g out of the m e a n i n g of " 3 " like shoots f r o m a bulb. It is less misleading to say t h a t the m e a n i n g of 3 is contained or is given in the whole a r i t h m e t i c of it.' 7 B u t this does not rule out the possibility of alternative arithmetics, different ways of calculating. O f course, if we begin by taking our arithmetical operations for g r a n t e d , then, within those p a r a m e t e r s , our a r i t h m e t i c is the only possible one. But to say this is no m o r e t h a n to e m p h a s i s e the ways in which we calculate. I t does not lead to the confused conclusion t h a t the ways in which we calculate rule out the possibility of o t h e r ways of calculating. T h i s is why we c a n n o t say, as P l a n t i n g a does, t h a t the alternative way of calculating on the o t h e r planet contradicts w h a t we do. As R u s h Rhees say, ' N o t e c h n i q u e for using an expression can contradict the m e a n i n g of t h a t expression because the m e a n i n g is in the technique.' 8 At this point a familiar worry m a y m a k e itself h e a r d . Rhees expresses it as follows: ' B u t is there no justification for our teaching people to d o m a t h e m a t i c s in this way — beyond the fact t h a t t h a t ' s the way t h a t everybody does it? Is it a m a t t e r of sheer accident t h a t people do h a p p e n to do m a t h e m a t i c s in this way? A r e you really saying t h a t there is n o t h i n g a b o u t the n a t u r e of m a t h e m a t i c s which gives a n y reason w h y it should have developed in this f o r m r a t h e r t h a n another?' 9 Rhees say t h a t we can give various reasons why we d o m a t h e m a t i c s in the way we do, b u t t h a t none of these reasons would establish the necessity of doing m a t h e m a t i c s in the way we do. T h e reasons Rhees lists are various: some have to do with the kinds of objects we need to m e a s u r e in our practical affairs (we need to know in our practical affairs w h e t h e r objects will fit into available spaces); reasons w h y we need to m e a s u r e with i n s t r u m e n t s such as rulers which do not e x p a n d or contract; the b e h a v i o u r of the objects we count, the fact t h a t they are fairly static a n d do not vanish suddenly; t h a t objects are not constantly c h a n g i n g their shape; our interests in calculating, t h a t the symbolism in which we calculate can be written d o w n a n d recorded; our desire to be as systematic as possible a n d to eliminate w h a t is c u m b e r s o m e , etc,

etc. All these reasons a n d more m a y lead us to conclude that it is natural t h a t we calculate in the way we do, a n d so it is, b u t none of these reasons show t h a t an alternative m a t h e m a t i c s can be ruled out as self-contradictory. If, for some reason, a people preferred w h a t seems to us the u n n a t u r a l a n d c u m b e r s o m e m e t h o d of proceeding, t h a t would be that. Rhees gives the following example: E d d i e C a n t o r , in his film Strike me Pink, measures cloth with a n elastic yardstick, using the extended yardstick w h e n he is taking the cloth off the roll a n d w h e n he is asking the customer: 'Is that enough?' a n d using the s h r u n k e n yardstick when he cuts the cloth. It might be a universal practice to have elastic yardsticks, a n d f u r t h e r each person might pride himself on having his own special degree of elasticity in the yardstick he used. Business in such a c o m m u n i t y would be r a t h e r different f r o m business in ours. But it might go on, a n d people might, if you asked t h e m , give reasons for preferring it t h a t way. 1 T h e way they would do a r i t h m e t i c would not contradict the way we do it. Plantinga argues as if the possibility of an alternative way of calculating makes it intelligible to say t h a t the way in which we calculate could have been w r o n g all along. It makes sense to say t h a t it could t u r n out t h a t we h a d been m a k i n g mistakes all along without knowing it. T h e s e suppositions are a n instance of language idling. T h e y do not link u p with a n y t h i n g or have any implications. I n w h a t sense can these d o u b t s be entertained? T h e whole point a b o u t the elementary propositions of m a t h e m a t i c s is t h a t we do not entertain d o u b t s a b o u t t h e m . Notice, we say do not, not could not. W e do not have a metaphysical proof to show t h a t we m u s t proceed arithmetically in the w a y we do. As we have seen, we can conceive of an alternative arithmetic. But the philosophical point of postulating such alternatives is to rid us of the conviction that there m u s t be some q u e e r kind of necessity u n d e r p i n n i n g our procedures. On the other hand, the philosophical postulation of other possibilities is not meant to cast doubt on our own procedures. Philosophers have changed the philosophical postulation into a n actual postulation, so m a k i n g it look as if we h a d an option to calculate in one way or a n o t h e r . T h i s confusion has led to a vulgarisation of Wittgenstein's t h o u g h t in recent philosophical literature. 1 1 T h e result has been to m a k e it look as

if the ways we think are options which we choose f r o m some v a n t a g e point outside them. T h a t perspective removes us f r o m a n y t h i n g Wittgenstein was trying to do. It cannot be over-emphasised, that his postulation of other possibilities is not meant to deny the naturalness of the way we calculate, but to emphasise it. If someone in our midst actually b e g a n ' d o u b t i n g ' the e l e m e n t a r y propositions of m a t h e m a t i c s we would not know w h a t to m a k e of h i m . P u t differently, we would know w h a t to m a k e of him all too well: he would be one of the u n f o r t u n a t e in our midst w h o does not know how to count, w h o c a n n o t be t a u g h t to count. W h a t Wittgenstein emphasises is t h a t we would not say this individual has m a d e a mistake. R a t h e r , he is cut off f r o m the l a n g u a g e - g a m e in which talk of being correct a n d being mistaken h a v e their application. H e is cut off f r o m our agreed p r o c e d u r e s in counting, not p r o c e d u r e s we agreed on prior to counting, but a g r e e m e n t s which show themselves in the ways we count. Wittgenstein says: In certain circumstances, for example, we regard a calculation as sufficiently checked. W h a t gives us the right to do so? Experience? M a y t h a t not have deceived us? S o m e w h e r e we m u s t be finished with justification a n d there r e m a i n s the proposition that this is how we calculate... If someone supposed t h a t all o u r calculations were uncertain a n d t h a t we could rely on n o n e of t h e m (justifying himself by saying t h a t mistakes are always possible) p e r h a p s we would say he was crazy. But can we say he is in error? Does he not j u s t react differently? W e rely on calculations, he doesn't; we a r e sure, he isn't. 1 2 P l a n t i n g a attacks the foundationalist for thinking t h a t all propositions d e p e n d for their rationality on s t a n d i n g in a p p r o p r i a t e relations to other propositions which c a n n o t be d o u b t e d , f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions such as self-evident or incorrigible propositions. But the essence of his attack consists in berating t h e foundationalist for claiming to have a criterion, which in fact he does not possess, by which he can show why w h a t is basic within the various noetic structures are w o r t h y m e m b e r s a n d the only m e m b e r s of the class of f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions. T h e foundationalist's failure then enables P l a n t i n g a to play the s a m e foundationalist g a m e a n d place belief in G o d in the f o u n d a t i o n s of his noetic s t r u c t u r e in the absence of a n y

epistemological criterion which would forbid him f r o m doing so. I t seems to me t h a t J e s s e de Boer is correct in saying: 'While P l a n t i n g a protests t h a t f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m o u g h t to be a b a n d o n e d , w h a t he in fact does himself is a d d to the f o u n d a t i o n s o u r belief in G o d . H e calls this belief "properly basic" a n d so, by the sense of his idiom, he stays inside the foundationalist c a m p . ' 1 3 But, if, as we have seen, the kind of justification of practices P l a n t i n g a requires does not m a k e sense, the failure of which the foundationalist s t a n d s accused m u s t be understood in the light of the fact. P l a n t i n g a a d m i t s t h a t R e f o r m e d epistemology lacks a criterion of basicality, m e a n i n g by this a justification of why, within our practices, w h a t is basic is called basic. 1 4 But he does not see this lack as f r e e d o m f r o m confusion. H e a d m i t s the criterion is lacking, but thinks there ought to be one. H e does not see t h a t the reason such a criterion is lacking has n o t h i n g to d o with lack of diligence or ingenuity on his p a r t . W h a t he seeks is a philosophical will-o'-the-wisp; it is not there to be f o u n d because w h a t is sought does not m a k e sense. T h e real illusion in foundationalism is its claim t h a t reason will give a f o u n d a t i o n a n d a justification for the ways in which we distinguish between w h a t is reasonable a n d u n r e a s o n a b l e in various epistemic practices. According to the foundationalist, religious practices can then be j u d g e d by the law of reason, so conceived, to see w h e t h e r they are a rational or irrational practice. P l a n t i n g a is o n e with the foundationalists in thinking t h a t our practices need such a justification. Since the criterion has not been arrived at yet, our practices can be d e e m e d innocent until proved guilty. W h a t we have seen is t h a t the intelligibility of our practices await no such verdict, neither do they need it. T h e y are simply there as p a r t of o u r lives. Similar difficulties occur for P l a n t i n g a w h e n we t u r n f r o m the elementary self-evident propositions of a r i t h m e t i c to w h a t he says a b o u t incorrigible propositions concerning the senses. These, along with the self-evident propositions, a r e the favoured propositions of the foundationalist w h e n he considers which propositions are properly basic. T h e attractiveness of the propositions in question is t h a t they c a n n o t be denied without talking nonsense. Plantinga says t h a t A q u i n a s was p r e p a r e d to p u t propositions such as ' T h e r e ' s a tree over there' a m o n g the incorrigible propositions. Descartes, however, was more cautious a n d presented propositions such as 'I seem to see a red book' or 'I seem to see something red' as incorrigible propositions. I t is

obvious that Plantinga thinks this greater caution is c o m m e n d a b l e . H e thinks that Roderick C h i s h o l m is even m o r e c o m m e n d a b l e in proposing propositions such as 'I a m a p p e a r e d redly to' to fill this role. W h y does Plantinga c o m m e n d this evergrowing philosophical caution, a caution which, of course, does not reflect how the word 'know' is used outside philosophy? A l t h o u g h he p r o b a b l y would not a d m i t this, it is because he is impressed, as m a n y philosophers have been, with the g r a m m a r of 'know' a n d the g r a m m a r of first-person psychological statements. W h a t I m e a n is this: if we claim to know s o m e t h i n g our claim m u s t have some justification. W e a r e expected to be able to say how we know w h a t we say we know. F u r t h e r , if it t u r n s out t h a t w h a t I said I knew was not the case, I have to say, 'I t h o u g h t I knew it, but I d i d n ' t ' . T h i s is not so with beliefs. If I say I believe something a n d it t u r n s out not to be the case, then, although I have to say t h a t I a m wrong, I a m not called on to say that I did not believe it. So it is t e m p t i n g for the philosopher to restrict the use of 'know' to those cases where the knowledge is always justified, where the claim to know could not be mistaken. H e n c e the appeal of self-evident propositions, such as the elementary propositions of m a t h e m a t i c s we have already considered. I n the same context, first-person psychological statements such as 'I a m in p a i n ' do not fall foul of the challenge ' H o w d o you know?' T h e person c a n n o t be wrong. H e m a y not know how to use the word ' p a i n ' or he m a y be lying or joking, b u t such considerations a p a r t , w h a t would it m e a n to think t h a t someone w h o said 'I a m in p a i n ' or 'I seem to see a red p a t c h ' could be wrong? But why should the g r a m m a t i c a l features of self-evident propositions in logic a n d m a t h e m a t i c s a n d first-person psychological statements legislate for all uses of the word 'know'? After all, we do say 'I t h o u g h t I knew, but I d i d n ' t ' , which shows t h a t there is a p r o p e r use for 'I t h o u g h t I knew a n d I d i d ' . N o reason has been given for saying that 'know' should be restricted to uses w h e r e we could not be mistaken. If you ask me w h e t h e r I know there is a chair available in the store room, I have good reason to say that I know a chair is available if I p u t one there five m i n u t e s ago. O f course, someone could have gone there in the m e a n t i m e a n d taken the chair away, but t h a t possibility d o e s n ' t m a k e my use of 'know' illegitimate, despite the fact that if the possibility b e c a m e an actuality, I'll have to say I did not know w h e n I t h o u g h t I did. If we think of the ways in which we come to learn to use the word 'know', it is h a r d to imagine our use of

it w i t h o u t giving considerable p r o m i n e n c e to circumstances such as these. Ironically, a l t h o u g h P l a n t i n g a w a n t s to discuss knowledge in connection with incorrigible s t a t e m e n t s relating to the senses, w h a t he does not see is t h a t w h e r e the s t a t e m e n t s really are incorrigible it is odd to speak of knowledge. T h e r e are a host of such propositions a n d they were Wittgenstein's m a i n concern in On Certainty. T h e y are the very propositions a b o u t which P l a n t i n g a is d o u b t f u l with respect to their inclusion as basic propositions: propositions such as ' T h i s is a tree' a n d ' T h e r e is an ink-well on my desk'. T h e d o u b t s P l a n t i n g a entertains are those q u a r t e r l y familiars with which philosophers have become a c q u a i n t e d . I m a y be looking at the tree in a fog a n d I m a y be having a n hallucination w h e n I see the ink-well. T h e s e possibilities c a n n o t be denied. But the conversations between G . E . M o o r e a n d N o r m a n M a l c o l m which Wittgenstein was interested in took place in M o o r e ' s g a r d e n , the g a r d e n of the house he h a d lived in for m a n y years a n d in which there was a tree. T h e r e is no question of fog or u n f a v o u r a b l e circumstances of any kind. W h a t would it m e a n in these circumstances to d o u b t the existence of the tree? P l a n t i n g a invokes hallucinations a n d colour-blindness to illustrate how we can be misled by familiar things. But his very invoking of t h e m shows t h a t these are occurrences we find out a b o u t . In fact, we c a n n o t say w h a t they are w i t h o u t explaining the difference between w h a t seems to be the case a n d w h a t is the case. N o one denies that there are circumstances where it makes sense to d o u b t empirical propositions, but does it follow t h a t it makes sense to d o u b t these propositions in all circumstances? W h e n we m a k e mistakes the conception of a mistake fits in with our beliefs. W e correct our mistakes. But the corrections I m a k e take place within a context w h e r e there is a great deal we take for g r a n t e d . W h a t we take for g r a n t e d covers a wide r a n g e of propositions. T h e y do not form a class of which all the m e m b e r s have something in c o m m o n . W e would not know w h a t to say to a n y o n e w h o suggested that they could be d o u b t e d . W h a t could we say to someone w h o d o u b t e d the existence of a tree we were both sitting under? W h a t would we say if, on opening the door of his familiar room, the door which leads to the equally familiar corridor which leads to the equally familiar staircase, instead of seeing this familiar scene, he said he saw the sea l a p p i n g at his feet? W h a t if we could convince him t h a t although he t h o u g h t he saw his class before him a n d t h o u g h t he was giving a lecture, the room was in fact

e m p t y a n d he was in a hospital room? W o u l d we in a n y of these instances say he h a d m a d e a mistake? O f course not. H e would be terrified. H e would think he was going insane. Unlike mistakes, his experiences c a n n o t be fitted into the loose network of our o t h e r beliefs. O n the contrary, they disorientate h i m . H e no longer knows his way a b o u t . M a t t e r s are d i s r u p t e d which previously he took for g r a n t e d . But it is i m p o r t a n t to realise t h a t these experiences d o not m a k e us d o u b t w h e r e we h a d not d o u b t e d before. No, they have the effect of p l u n g i n g us into confusion in such a way t h a t we do not know w h a t to believe or d o u b t a n y more. W e have been taken out of the traffic of n o r m a l discourse. Alternatively, if there is one in our midst w h o c a n n o t p a r t i c i p a t e in some f u n d a m e n t a l aspects of this discourse; if, for example, he denies t h a t the e a r t h has existed for a long time, t h a t people a r e ever in pain, that 3 + 3 = 6, we do not know w h a t to m a k e of h i m . H i s presence does not t h r o w our practices into confusion. O n the contrary, our practices m a r k him off as the strange one, the outsider. But this does not m e a n t h a t such a m a n contradicts w h a t we do, or that w h a t we do renders w h a t he does selfcontradictory. H e is too strange to be self-contradictory. T o be sure in our dealings, then, we do not h a v e to produce, as P l a n t i n g a thinks we m u s t , a criterion which shows why we should take for g r a n t e d w h a t we take for g r a n t e d . N o r d o we have to s u s p e n d j u d g e m e n t , as Alston suggests, treating the strange ones, or the u n t e a c h a b l e ones, as 'innocent' in the m e a n t i m e . No, they are the strange ones. W h a t we do is to show how f u n d a m e n t a l in o u r thinking a n d in our practices w h a t we take for g r a n t e d is. T o show this, w h a t we need is not a f o u n d a t i o n for our practices b u t attention to the roles played by w h a t is basic in t h e m . Basicality is not a m a t t e r of w h a t cannot be otherwise, but a m a t t e r of w h a t c a n n o t be otherwise in the ways we think.

Notes 1. J . D . Kenyon, 'Doubts About the Concept of Reason', Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, supp. vol. L I X , 1985, p. 264. 2. Plantinga, 'Is belief in God rational?', p. 17. 3. Here, I have simply been repeating the arguments in Rush Rhees's ' O n Continuity: Wittgenstein's ideas 1938' in his Discussions of Wittgenstein (Routledge and Kegan Paul, London, and Shocken Books, New York, 1970). 4. Plantinga, 'Reason and Belief in God', p. 76. 5. Alvin Plantinga. 6. Rhees, ' O n Continuity', p. 113. 7. Ibid., p. 114. 8. Ibid. 9. Ibid., p. 120. 10. Ibid. 11. See Part Two, Chs. 10, 11 and 12. 12. Ludwig Wittgenstein, On Certainty, trans. Denis Paul and G . E . M . Anscombe (Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1979), paras. 212 and 217. 13. Jesse de Boer, 'Reformed Epistemology', The Reformed Journal, vol. 32, issue 4 (April 1982), p. 25. 14. Plantinga, 'Reason and Belief in God', see pp. 90-91.

4 Basic Propositions: Reformed Epistemology and Wittgenstein's On Certainty

T o the philosophically u n w a r y , it m a y seem as if there is a great similarity between w h a t R e f o r m e d philosophers w a n t to say a b o u t basic propositions a n d Wittgenstein's t r e a t m e n t of t h e p r o b l e m in On Certainty. T w o m a j o r considerations m a y t e m p t us to think in this way. First, it is true t h a t R e f o r m e d philosophers a n d philosophers influenced by Wittgenstein in the philosophy of religion are one in their rejection of f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m . Second, they say t h a t G o d is believed in without G o d ' s existence being seen as a presupposition for which prior evidence m u s t be sought. J e s s e de Boer, despite saying, with good reason, that Plantinga is still in the grip of foundationalism also says this: 'I get from P l a n t i n g a ' s sketch of R e f o r m e d epistemology a n d his rejection of " f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m " a sense of deja vu, Wittgenstein h a d done the j o b more thoroughly years ago; P l a n t i n g a generalizes his work so as to include religious belief.' 1 T r u e , the ignoring of the critiques of foundationalism by Wittgenstein a n d J . L . Austin, different t h o u g h they are, is one of the m o r e curious features of the R e f o r m e d philosophers' r e a d i n g of the history of recent philosophy. T h a t a p a r t , however, it c a n n o t be said t h a t Plantinga's philosophical enterprise bears any positive relation to w h a t Wittgenstein was concerned with. Certainly, P l a n t i n g a c a n n o t be u n d e r s t o o d as someone w h o applies Wittgenstein's insight to the philosophy of religion. T h e deep-going differences between t h e m can be explored in terms of their respective discussions of basic propositions. First, it is clear that, for the Reformed epistemologists, basic propositions in noetic structures are thought of as the foundations of those structures. T h a t this is so is evident from the function which such propositions are said to p e r f o r m . As Plantinga says, a f o u n d a t i o n a l proposition ' m u s t be capable of bearing its share

of the weight of the entire noetic structure'.^ It is also clear t h a t the f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions are t h o u g h t of as logically prior to all others. P l a n t i n g a says, 'I k n o w the propositions in the f o u n d a t i o n s of my noetic structure, b u t not by virtue of knowing other propositions; for these are the ones I start with.' 3 W i t h Wittgenstein, in On Certainty, m a t t e r s are different. H e was interested in basic propositions because, while they were certainly not propositions of logic a n d h a d the form of empirical propositions, there were i m p o r t a n t differences between t h e m a n d m a n y of the ways in which we normally talk of empirical propositions. Wittgenstein h a d in m i n d propositions such as 'I was b o r n ' , ' T h e earth h a s existed for m a n y years', ' T h e r e are m a t e r i a l objects', ' T h e r e are h u m a n beings', etc., etc. W e do not investigate the t r u t h or falsity of these propositions. Neither d o we believe them because we have f o u n d out that they a r e correct, for w h e n did we do that? Propositions such as these seem to underlie other propositions. W i t h o u t taking them for g r a n t e d we w o u l d n ' t know how to speak of t r u t h or falsity at all in the various contexts they enter into. But the crucial question for Wittgenstein is the sense in which these basic propositions do underlie o t h e r propositions. H e did not think there was simply one a n s w e r to this question. Different examples have to be treated differently. For example, in some cases, s o m e t h i n g which begins by being discovered experimentally h a r d e n s into a n o r m for description. A physiologist on dissecting the h u m a n skull finds the b r a i n . H e makes relatively few dissections a n d yet he says that it is obvious t h a t every skull contains a brain. H o w does he know that? H o w does w h a t he has found justify his confident expectation for all other cases? But would not any physiologist be a m a z e d if these questions were asked of him? H e would be at a loss to know w h a t the questioner w a n t e d . H e would say t h a t the way he proceeds is obvious. H e has no reason for proceeding in t h a t way, which is not to say t h a t he proceeds u n r e a s o n a b l y . W h a t makes sense is shown in the w a y he proceeds a n d for t h a t he has no reason. O n e is r e m i n d e d of the f a m o u s ' C a n d i d C a m e r a ' series in which a car was secretly p u s h e d d o w n a n incline into a garage. T h e owners complained that the car h a d given t h e m trouble t h r o u g h o u t their j o u r n e y south f r o m the n o r t h . W h e n the m e c h a n i c opened the b o n n e t , he found the car h a d no engine. H e was, of course, utterly at a loss. O n c e we know w h a t the function of a n engine is in a car, h o w can a car travel w i t h o u t a n engine? In fact, that question does not arise. Similar conclusions

follow in the case of ' T h e r e is a h e a r t in every body'. I n o t h e r cases, such as the proposition 'I was b o r n ' or ' M o u n t a i n s have existed for a long time', it is odd to say t h a t the conclusions were arrived at experimentally. Q u e s t i o n s a b o u t such m a t t e r s do not arise. I a m told, for example, t h a t someone climbed this m o u n t a i n m a n y years ago. Do I always e n q u i r e into the reliability of the teller of this story, a n d w h e t h e r the m o u n t a i n s did exist years ago? A child learns there are reliable a n d unreliable i n f o r m a n t s m u c h later t h a n it learns facts which are told it. It d o e s n ' t learn at all that t h a t m o u n t a i n has existed for a long time: t h a t is, the question w h e t h e r it is so doesn't arise at all. It swallows this consequence d o w n , so to speak, together with what it learns. 4 Wittgenstein would also say t h a t it is involved in w h a t it learns. Experience c a n n o t be appealed to as a f o u n d a t i o n , in the way Alston suggested, for we are talking a b o u t w h a t is involved in that very experience. 5 T h e child learns to believe a host of things. I.e. it learns to act according to these beliefs. Bit by bit there forms a system of w h a t is believed, a n d in t h a t system some things s t a n d u n s h a k e a b l y fast a n d some are more or less liable to shift. W h a t stands fast does so, not because it is intrinsically obvious or convincing; it is r a t h e r held fast by w h a t lies a r o u n d it. 5 It is clear f r o m these r e m a r k s t h a t in saying t h a t basic propositions underlie other propositions, Wittgenstein does not m e a n to imply that these propositions are the f o u n d a t i o n s or the first principles on which the other propositions are based. Unlike the R e f o r m e d philosophers, Wittgenstein would not say t h a t one could start with these propositions, because the propositions have their sense, are held fast, by all t h a t s u r r o u n d s t h e m . So before we can be sure of the ways in which we think a n d behave, we do not have to start f r o m these propositions. H o w could we since the propositions have their life in the ways we think a n d behave. T h e propositions are not hypothetical in any way. O n the contrary, they are taken for g r a n t e d , rarely f o r m u l a t e d , a n d taken out of the traffic of discourse as far as any d o u b t , conjecture or proof in relation to

t h e m is concerned. T h e child is introduced to basic propositions in being t a u g h t other things. For example, the child does not believe in the existence of chairs a n d tables because it h a s been t a u g h t that m a t e r i a l objects exist. It is t a u g h t to sit on a chair or at a table, a n d that, one m i g h t say, is w h a t shows one's belief in the existence of material objects. A child comes to know people in its dealings with t h e m - its mother, father, brothers, sisters, friends, the b u t c h e r , the m i l k m a n , the grocer, etc., etc. In this is s h o w n its belief in h u m a n beings. T h e belief is not the presupposition of its actions, b u t shows itself, has its sense, in those actions. I n being t a u g h t these, however, the child is also learning w h a t can be taken for g r a n t e d . T h e s e propositions h a n g together, b u t if we say they form a system, we m u s t not think of this as a formal system. T h e way the propositions h a n g together m a k e u p w h a t Wittgenstein calls our world-picture. T h e child is introduced to this worldpicture as it grows up, but not by being given a course of instruction in it. O n c e again, our world-picture c a n n o t be t h o u g h t of as the f o u n d a t i o n of our thinking. It is w h a t shows itself by being taken for g r a n t e d in our thinking. Similarly, we c a n n o t think of our world-picture as the presupposition of the ways in which we think, as t h o u g h those ways of thinking could be derived f r o m it. W e c a n n o t first identify our world-picture a n d then go on to describe the ways in which we think, because it is only in terms of how we think that we can speak of our world-picture. W e are not talking of any priority over the ways we think, logical or temporal, w h e n we speak of our world-picture. By contrast with the w a y in which Wittgenstein speaks of basic propositions being held fast in all t h a t s u r r o u n d s t h e m , the basic propositions of R e f o r m e d epistemology seem isolated a n d even a r b i t r a r y . T o say this does not imply a desire to reopen the search for a criterion which will d e t e r m i n e by w h a t right we place our basic proposition in the f o u n d a t i o n s of our noetic structures, to use P l a n t i n g a ' s language. T o say this does imply, to use Wittgenstein's language, t h a t we are not shown the way in which belief in G o d underlies other things in the noetic structure. W e are not shown how belief in G o d is held fast in all t h a t s u r r o u n d s it. I n short, the belief in G o d seems to be u n m e d i a t e d , casting illumination on nothing. Peter Losin is worried by the fact t h a t this is how belief in G o d will a p p e a r to the unbeliever, given P l a n t i n g a ' s analysis. Obviously, the unbeliever will not accept the basic propositions of religion. P l a n t i n g a considers that, given

his own criteria, the unbeliever acts reasonably in refusing to believe. But P l a n t i n g a accuses the unbeliever of being in the grip of false reasoning, reasoning which is bereft of belief in G o d in its foundations. But, Losin asks, how does Plantinga know this? It looks as if he is claiming to know, i n d e p e n d e n t l y of his own m o d e of reasoning, a n d that of the unbeliever, t h a t the unbeliever's m o d e of reasoning is false. But in order to know this he would have to possess the very neutral epistemological criterion which he denied t h a t the foundationalist, or a n y o n e else, possessed. Plantinga says that the believer has a right to place belief in G o d in the f o u n d a t i o n s of the noetic structure, but w h a t the right consists in is a r a t h e r thin affair, namely, t h a t no one has been able to show him why he should not. But, of course, as Losin says, the unbeliever does not see this. P l a n t i n g a m a y say t h a t the existence of G o d is as evident to the believer as 2 + 2 = 4, b u t the unbeliever m a y say t h a t the existence of G o d is as selfcontradictory to h i m as the claim t h a t there is a n Euclidean triangle whose interior angles do not a d d u p to 180°. W h o is to say w h o is right? Losin sees no way in which either believer or unbeliever can a p p e a l to a n y t h i n g other t h a n their right to place different beliefs in the f o u n d a t i o n s of their respective noetic structures. As a result, Losin sees no alternative, if this logical isolation of the f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions is to be avoided, to going back to weighing u p evidence for a n d against belief in the existence of God. 7 T h i s conclusion need not be e m b r a c e d , b u t Losin's point is i n d e p e n d e n t of his apologetic concerns. His m a i n point is to insist on the necessity of m e d i a t i n g t h e concept of G o d ' s reality. W i t h o u t such mediation, the concept seems 'basic' in some magical way. I n his reply to Losin, P l a n t i n g a says: ' O n e task laid on C h r i s t i a n philosophers, I think, is t h a t of working out a C h r i s t i a n epistemology - a theory of knowledge, justification, rationality a n d allied topics which takes for granted the central contours of the C h r i s t i a n scheme of things'. 8 His p u r p o s e in doing so, however, he insists, is not to convince the sceptics, b u t to e n d e a v o u r to become clear a b o u t how C h r i s t i a n s should think a b o u t these things. George M a v r o d e s says of the R e f o r m e d philosophers: 'Like Calvin they h a v e no intention of providing unbelievers with reasons to believe or, for t h a t m a t t e r , of providing believers with reasons to continue in their faith.' 9 If the belief is m e a n t to s t a n d in evidential d e p e n d e n c e on the reasons, the point is well taken. B u t not all reasons take the form of evidence. T h e r e is the provision of elucidation as well as the provision of evidence.

W h y d o we a s s u m e t h a t a request for elucidation m u s t be a request for evidence? W i t h o u t elucidation of the central contours of the C h r i s t i a n faith, w i t h o u t a n y a t t e m p t to show how its central concepts are m e d i a t e d in h u m a n life, the assertion t h a t belief in G o d is f o u n d a t i o n a l in one's noetic s t r u c t u r e will seem a pretty e m p t y assertion to make. T h e proposition t h a t G o d exists will seem isolated f r o m the rest of the noetic s t r u c t u r e it is said to s u p p o r t , or at least its f o u n d a t i o n a l function will be, to say the least, obscure. By contrast, no such metaphysical isolation s u r r o u n d s Wittgenstein's basic propositions since, so far from being said to be the foundation of our thinking, they are said to be involved in our thinking. In R e f o r m e d epistemology the f o u n d a t i o n s seem to be an a r b i t r a r y point of d e p a r t u r e . But this c a n n o t be said of Wittgenstein's informal system of basic propositions: All testing, all confirmation a n d disconfirmation of a hypothesis takes place already within a system. A n d this system is not a more or less a r b i t r a r y a n d d o u b t f u l point of d e p a r t u r e for all our a r g u m e n t s : no, it belongs to the essence of w h a t we call an a r g u m e n t . T h e system is not so m u c h the point of d e p a r t u r e , as the element in which a r g u m e n t s have their life. 10 T h i s will apply as m u c h to religious systems (practices) loosely conceived, as to a n y other. T h e s e too will be no a r b i t r a r y points of d e p a r t u r e , b u t will constitute the context within which belief in G o d has its life a n d m e a n i n g . T h e m e a n i n g of belief in G o d is shown in the light it casts on all t h a t s u r r o u n d s it. Not: ' G o d be the f o u n d a t i o n of my thinking' b u t ' G o d be in my thinking'. T h e basicality of the belief is shown in this involvement. T h e second m a j o r difference between R e f o r m e d epistemology's a n d Wittgenstein's t r e a t m e n t of basic propositions is seen in the way they discuss the sense in which basic propositions are held fast in all t h a t s u r r o u n d s them. At first, this c o m p a r i s o n m a y seem puzzling. H a v e we not j u s t accused R e f o r m e d epistemology of isolating its basic propositions f r o m all else in the noetic structure? H o w , then, is it possible now to speak of the basic proposition's relation to all t h a t holds it fast? T h e a n s w e r lies in the fact t h a t a l t h o u g h R e f o r m e d epistemologists assert t h a t f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions are not conclusions based on evidence, they deny t h a t f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions are groundless. T h i s is

said to be true, therefore, w h e n we a r e considering propositions which have been held to be foundational, such as 'I see a tree' a n d the religious f o u n d a t i o n a l belief t h a t G o d exists. As we shall see, however, the claim t h a t these propositions are well g r o u n d e d does not lead us to retract w h a t has been said a b o u t the metaphysical isolation of basic propositions in R e f o r m e d epistemology, since, w h e n we consider the relations said to pertain between the basic proposition a n d its alleged g r o u n d s in the noetic structure, the metaphysical isolation of the basic propositions becomes even m o r e p r o n o u n c e d . Let us e x a m i n e h o w this comes a b o u t in the two cases. As we have seen, strictly speaking, P l a n t i n g a tells us, 'I see a tree' is not properly basic. Partly he says this because of the possibility of circumstances where we can be mistaken a b o u t the existence of a tree. But even w h e n we see the tree w i t h o u t i m p e d i m e n t , P l a n t i n g a would still say t h a t 'I see a tree' is not properly basic. T h i s is because he claims t h a t the proposition is g r o u n d e d in experience, the experience he describes as 'I a m being a p p e a r e d treely to'. Yet as we saw in the exposition of the Reformed challenge, Plantinga does not w a n t to say t h a t the experience is evidence for the belief, b u t t h a t it plays a vital p a r t in its formation. N o t a great deal is said a b o u t w h a t this 'vital p a r t in its f o r m a t i o n ' consists in, but, as a result of it, he says t h a t the assertion 'I see a tree' can be said to be g r o u n d e d in a n d justified by the experience. T h e a t t r a c t i o n of 'I a m a p p e a r e d treely to' (perverse t h o u g h the construction is) is t h a t it does not invite the question, ' H o w do you know?' Unless the person is lying, joking, or does not know the m e a n i n g of the words he is using, the possibility of a mistake is ruled out. A n d , after all, t h a t is w h a t P l a n t i n g a is searching for, an incorrigible proposition of sense experience. 'I see a tree' h a r d l y seems to qualify. T h i s is because we can think of plenty of circumstances in which the person m a k i n g the u t t e r a n c e is mistaken, does not know w h a t he thinks he knows. B u t w h e n a tree is seen in w h a t we would call ideal circumstances, w h a t then? W h a t h a p p e n s if we analyse 'I see a tree' in terms of the more u l t i m a t e experiences in terms of which it is supposed to be analysed? W h a t h a p p e n s if we suggest that 'I see a tree' is a logical construct o f ' I a m a p p e a r e d treely to'? J . L . Austin has shown t h a t the consequence is that a logically u n b r i d g e a b l e g a p is opened u p between the a p p e a r a n c e s , the sense d a t a , a n d the object said to be experienced, such t h a t we are r o b b e d of our

n o r m a l conceptions of certainty concerning the latter. Plantinga seems to be looking for a n absolute distinction between propositions which are properly basic a n d those which are not. H e is searching for conceptions of m i n i m a l experiences, experiences which are i m m e d i a t e a n d c a n n o t be mistaken. T h e a s s u m p t i o n t h a t you could be mistaken would be meaningless. U n f o r t u n a t e l y the s t a t e m e n t of i m m e d i a t e perception does not tell us very m u c h , as Plantinga's example 'I a m a p p e a r e d treely to', bears out. B u t if, of necessity, we have to begin with such experiences, how do we ever speak with any confidence of the things a b o u t us? For example, how do we know how to distinguish, a m o n g our m a n y experiences o f ' b e i n g a p p e a r e d treely to', which a m o n g them are imaginations, hallucinations, or perceptions? For after all, P l a n t i n g a is claiming to show us the sense in which 'I see a tree' is a well-grounded claim. W e have reason to suppose t h a t w h a t is emerging in these views is something like the very f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m P l a n t i n g a w a n t s to oppose. T r u e , he does not speak of propositions which stand in need of evidence a n d propositions which provide evidence, b u t he does speak of corrigible experiences a n d their g r o u n d s in incorrigible experiences. For Plantinga, 'I see a tree' c a n n o t be an incorrigible proposition of sense experience, since it is not a m i n i m a l claim. T h e reason for saying this is t h a t we can imagine circumstances w h e r e to say 'I see a tree' is to claim too m u c h . I claim to see a tree in a fog a n d it t u r n s out that I a m mistaken. It is a s s u m e d t h a t the circumstances a r e unfavourable. But w h a t if I a m s t a n d i n g in front of the tree on a clear day; w h a t if I a m touching it, climbing, sitting in its branches, t r i m m i n g it, c h o p p i n g it d o w n , etc, etc. W h a t could I be u n s u r e o f ? T h e distinction between being sure or u n s u r e breaks down. T h e r e is nothing to occasion it. It does not enter into the traffic of our discourse. But suppose t h a t one does say t h a t the claim 'I see a tree' is well-grounded in incorrigible propositions of sense experience, w h a t then? T h e consequences are that it is h a r d to see how 'I see a tree' can ever be a well-grounded claim. P l a n t i n g a ' s difficulties can be illustrated by reference to the difficulties s u r r o u n d i n g the speculations of Locke a n d Berkeley on similar questions. For Locke, in order for my experiences to be experiences of seeing a tree, there h a d to be a correspondence between my experiences a n d that which caused me to have t h e m , namely, the tree. If my experiences were caused by some other object, they could not be

called experiences of seeing a tree. T h e difficulty is t h a t since Locke holds t h a t our knowledge is knowledge of our ideas, there is no way in which this correspondence can be established. As W a r n o c k points out, 1 1 if I say an object is causing a bulge in my stocking, I can take the object out to verify this. But the objects which cause our ideas are, on this r e a d i n g of Locke, necessarily inaccessible. Berkeley is not faced with these difficulties because he claims t h a t w h a t we m e a n w h e n we say 'I see a tree' is t h a t our experiences have a certain consistent p a t t e r n . But, as W a r n o c k points out, this analysis w o n ' t do. If 'I see a tree' as a wellg r o u n d e d s t a t e m e n t is to be understood as ' I t seems to me, G o d a n d everyone else as if there were a tree', one should not be able to d e n y the first s t a t e m e n t a n d assert the second. Similarly, if w h a t we m e a n by saying 'I see a tree' is a well-grounded s t a t e m e n t is ' I , G o d a n d everyone else are a p p e a r e d treely to', the s a m e condition should hold. Yet, in both cases, it clearly does not hold. W e could have all the 'seeming as ifs' or ' a p p e a r i n g s to' in creation a n d it still be the case that we were not seeing a tree. ' I a m a p p e a r e d treely to' will not g u a r a n t e e , or yield in analysis, statements concerning w h a t is the case. In fact, as Austin points out, the 'experiences' which are supposed to m a k e the assertion 'I see a tree' a well-grounded one in fact take us f u r t h e r a n d f u r t h e r a w a y f r o m the a s s u r a n c e t h a t we a r e seeing a tree. T h e sequence of beliefs in search of incorrigibility m a y read as follows: 'I see a tree'; 'I seem to see a tree'; ' I t seems to me t h a t I see a tree'; ' I t seems to m e now that I see a tree'; ' I t seems to me now as if I were seeing a tree'. T h e philosophical p r o b l e m is posed as one of d e t e r m i n i n g w h e n we can stop hedging a n d have the right to say, 'I see a tree', whereas, as Austin says, w h a t o u g h t to be asked is w h y we should start hedging in the first place. 1 2 W a r n o c k ' s own suggestion is t h a t 'I see a tree' could be u n d e r s t o o d as a verdict on the relevant experiences. But the s a m e objections can be m a d e to this suggestion as were m a d e earlier against the a s s u m p t i o n t h a t 'I see a tree' can be said, in vacuo, always to be related to s u p p o r t i n g evidence (foundationalism), or to formative g r o u n d s (Plantinga). J . L . Austin points out t h a t verdicts are normally needed in u n f a v o u r a b l e circumstances; they are given by people w h o are not in a position to see things. But verdicts are not needed w h e n something is u n d e r one's nose. W h e n I see the tree, climb it, chop it d o w n , etc., I do not need a verdict relating to the tree's existence. An u m p i r e in cricket m a y give his verdict in difficult circumstances, circumstances in which it was

h a r d to see w h e t h e r the ball touched the g r o u n d before the fieldsman c a u g h t it. T r u e , he m a y give a verdict w h e n all is clear, but this is because it is a formality d e m a n d e d by the g a m e . I m a g i n e our reaction to someone who, j u s t as we were a b o u t to c o m m e n c e climbing a tree, d e m a n d e d a prior verdict on its existence! A l t h o u g h Plantinga denies t h a t the incorrigible sensory statements constitute evidence for saying 'I see a tree', he does, as we have seen, claim that these s t a t e m e n t s are the g r o u n d s a n d justifications for saying 'I see a tree'; they play a vital p a r t in the formation of the claim 'I see a tree'. T h a t being so, the incorrigible statements serve the p u r p o s e of a d v a n c i n g us in the direction of the s t a t e m e n t 'I see a tree'. For the foundationalist, the a d v a n c e is via evidence; for Plantinga, the a d v a n c e is, more obscurely, via formation of the belief. But in both cases, the r e q u i r e m e n t is to advance. Yet, as I have said, as we extend the search for the incorrigible s t a t e m e n t of sense experience, so far f r o m a d v a n c i n g towards the desired factual claim, we are going f u r t h e r a n d f u r t h e r away from it. It seems t h a t the incorrigible s t a t e m e n t s of sense experience, so far f r o m being formative of 'I see a tree', take one f u r t h e r a n d f u r t h e r a w a y f r o m the assertion. But why should we accept the p r o b l e m in these terms? A u s t i n ' s insight t h a t we m u s t have something on our plates before we start messing with it can be applied in this case too. In a p p e a l i n g to A u s t i n ' s insights, I do not m e a n to suggest t h a t P l a n t i n g a is u n a w a r e of the difficulty of moving f r o m w h a t is properly basic in sense experience to the assertion 'I see a tree'. But he does not d r a w any of the philosophical conclusions f r o m this insight which Austin draws. O n the contrary, instead of asking himself w h a t reasons he would have, in ideal circumstances, for d o u b t i n g t h a t he saw a tree, P l a n t i n g a continues to hedge. N o t only does he deny t h a t 'I see a tree' is properly basic b u t goes on to deny that the condition for the assertion of the tree's existence, namely, 'I a m a p p e a r e d treely to', is properly basic. H e now says t h a t t h a t condition itself is only a prima-facie condition for saying that the tree exists. T h e s e conditions, as we saw in the exposition of the R e f o r m e d critique of f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m , are c a p a b l e of being o v e r t h r o w n by considerations which he calls defeaters. But the defeaters are only prima-facie defeaters, a n d may be defeated by defeater-defeaters, which m a y in t u r n be defeated by defeater-defeater-defeaters, and so on. W e m a y well w o n d e r w h a t has h a p p e n e d to our certainty w h e n we claim to

see a tree in ideal circumstances. T o i n t r o d u c e a tentativeness into this assertion is meaningless. It is a philosophical tentativeness which plays no p a r t in our actual discourse. O f course, P l a n t i n g a would say that he, too, in practice, is certain of the tree's existence. H e denies, however, t h a t there is s o m e t h i n g called reason, external to our practice, which can show t h a t the practice could not be mistaken. Therefore, he m u s t allow the possibility t h a t he could be wrong, while acting with certainty in practice. W e shall have more to say a b o u t this notion of 'possibility' in the next chapter. For the m o m e n t , let us note t h a t we do not counter Plantinga's a r g u m e n t by saying t h a t we do possess a conception of rationality external to perception which shows it to be 'real'. I n t h a t sense, it is not a m a t t e r of saying that we 'could not' be mistaken or t h a t we 'could' be mistaken. W i t h i n w h a t we call perception, within the context of w h a t we actually do, the question does not arise. F u r t h e r m o r e , if a person could be convinced that he was in a hospital bed all the time w h e n he t h o u g h t he was seeing, climbing a n d resting in a tree, he would not conclude t h a t he h a d m a d e a mistake. H e would be terrified, thinking, with good reason, t h a t he was going insane. But, note, t h a t is something he finds out. W e c a n n o t extrapolate, f r o m that case, the suggestion t h a t p e r h a p s we can never find out w h e t h e r we are really seeing the tree. W h a t needs to be emphasised at the m o m e n t is P l a n t i n g a ' s admission that, in fact, he is as certain as a n y o n e else t h a t he is seeing a tree w h e n he sees one in n o r m a l circumstances. Yet he also w a n t s to say t h a t he could be mistaken. I have suggested t h a t he entertains this possibility of being mistaken as a philosopher, a l t h o u g h it does not enter into his practical j u d g e m e n t s . Even so, it o u g h t to give us reason to p o n d e r on the status of a philosophical analysis which robs us of the certainty which plays such a crucial role in our everyday lives. T h a t a p a r t , my reason for dwelling on P l a n t i n g a ' s analysis o f ' I see a tree' is to d r a w a parallel between it a n d his discussion of the proposition ' G o d exists'. M a n y steps in the a r g u m e n t will be similar with one i m p o r t a n t difference. W h e n we reach the conclusion of the a r g u m e n t we find it difficult to m a k e the s a m e distinction, in the context of R e f o r m e d epistemology, between acting with certainty on the one h a n d , a n d entertaining philosophical d o u b t s on the other h a n d , d o u b t s which do not enter into the practice being discussed. As we shall see, the philosophical d o u b t seems to lead to a modification of the certitude of faith. W e r e this not the case,

it would be difficult to account for the d e b a t e within R e f o r m e d epistemology concerning w h a t constitutes a p r o p e r response on the p a r t of the C h r i s t i a n in face of this possibility of error. If the possibility did not affect the practice of faith, no response would be called for, and no discussion m a d e necessary. J u s t as he does not believe t h a t ' T h e tree exists' or ' I see a tree' are, strictly speaking, basic propositions, so P l a n t i n g a does not believe that ' G o d exists' is, strictly speaking, properly basic. O n c e again, we find w h a t is properly basic in certain conditions in which it is a p p r o p r i a t e to say ' G o d exists'. T h e s e conditions are f u r t h e r experiences such as the awareness of the world as G o d ' s creation, conviction of sin, a n d the need to t h a n k a n d praise G o d . At first, this suggestion looks promising. Belief in G o d seems to be placed in the context of a living faith in which it has its sense. W i t h o u t taking such a p l a c e m e n t into account, we c a n n o t even begin to a p p r e c i a t e the c h a r a c t e r of concept-formation in religious belief. 13 I n this religious context, the conditions invoked, unlike the a p p e a l to incorrigible experiences in the previous context, are the conditions relevant to concept-formation where the notion of G o d ' s reality is concerned. U n f o r t u n a t e l y , the philosophical promise is short-lived, since P l a n t i n g a treats these conditions, too, as no more t h a n prima-facie justifications for belief in G o d . T h e y , too, are said to be subject to defeater-defeaters, a n d so on. J u s t as in his analysis of 'I see a tree', the possibility of being mistaken is m a i n t a i n e d , so also in the analysis of ' G o d exists', the possibility of error is allowed. But in this case, the possibility of error does not operate solely in the realm of philosophical speculation while practice goes on u n h e e d e d a n d u n i m p e d e d . T h e possibility seems to invade the very practice of belief. I n that case, it is difficult to m a k e the overall d e v e l o p m e n t of P l a n t i n g a ' s a r g u m e n t s consistent. In his criticisms of foundationalism, P l a n t i n g a r e m i n d e d us t h a t the m a t u r e believer does not, typically, accept belief in G o d tentatively or hypothetically. O f course, the tentativeness in question then h a d to do with evidentialism, the worry t h a t belief in G o d is based on insufficient evidence. Because the evidence is never as good as we would like, religious beliefs, the foundationalist tells us, are m a t t e r s of probability. It then seems t h a t we should reformulate religious beliefs so that the n a t u r a l expressions of t h e m become less misleading. O n this view, should we not say from now on, 'I believe t h a t it is highly p r o b a b l e t h a t there is an almighty God, m a k e r of heaven a n d e a r t h ' , 'I believe

it is highly p r o b a b l e t h a t God forgives sins', a n d so on? Do these reformulations do justice to the n a t u r e of religious belief? H a r d l y . It is even less plausible to regard t h e m , not as reformulations, but as expressions of w h a t confessions of faith already are. Plantinga would agree, a n d he rejects the evidentialism which leads us to think such reformulations or analyses are necessary. H a v i n g noted P l a n t i n g a ' s criticisms of foundationalism, do we not have to say, w h e n we come to consider his own discussion, that he, too, introduces a tentativeness, a necessary tentativeness, into the n a t u r e of religious belief? T o be sure, on P l a n t i n g a ' s view, the believer is not waiting, tentatively, in case contrary evidence should turn up, b u t he is waiting tentatively in case defeaters turn up, logical objections he cannot answer. But, to q u o t e Plantinga's own words back at him: ' T h e m a t u r e believer, the m a t u r e theist, does not typically accept belief in G o d tentatively or hypothetically, or until something better [a superior logical a r g u m e n t ] comes along.' W h a t is more, the constant logical possibility of error is m a d e to affect the very character of belief, on Plantinga's view: it is the condition for avoiding d o g m a t i s m . D o g m a t i s m will not take the form of believing despite insufficient evidence, b u t it can take the form of believing insufficient arguments. Yet, as I have said, it is difficult to m a k e Plantinga consistent on this question. For example, in e x p o u n d i n g the Reformed objection to n a t u r a l theology, P l a n t i n g a s u m m a r i s e s w h a t he takes to be a confused account of the believer's reliance on a r g u m e n t : If my belief in G o d is based on a r g u m e n t , then if I a m to be properly rational, epistemically responsible, I shall have to keep checking the philosophical j o u r n a l s to see w h e t h e r , say, A n t h o n y Flew has finally come u p with a good objection to my favourite a r g u m e n t . T h i s could be b o t h e r s o m e a n d time-consuming; a n d w h a t do I do if someone does find a flaw in my a r g u m e n t ? Stop going to church? F r o m C a l v i n ' s point of view believing in the existence of G o d on the basis of rational a r g u m e n t is like believing in the existence of your spouse on the basis of the analogical a r g u m e n t for other m i n d s — whimsical at best a n d unlikely to delight the person concerned. 1 4 As we know, P l a n t i n g a ' s apologetics are negative apologetics. H e does not w a n t to base religious beliefs on a r g u m e n t s , b u t he does claim to have shown t h a t no good a r g u m e n t s h a v e been a d v a n c e d

to show why belief in G o d should not be properly basic for the believer. But now we h a v e seen that, for Plantinga, such belief is, strictly speaking, not properly basic. It is itself formed by a n d g r o u n d e d in certain experiences. A r e these beliefs that these experiences are w h a t they claim to be properly basic? W e have seen t h a t these experiences in which the belief in G o d is g r o u n d e d are themselves said to be prima-facie g r o u n d s , subject to defeaters. O f course, Plantinga says t h a t the defeater is a prima-facie defeater, itself subject to defeat by a defeater-defeater, which is, in t u r n , subject to defeat by a defeater-defeater-defeater, a n d so on. T h e picture of the believer, w h o would be properly rational, awaiting the q u a r t e r l y onslaught of the philosophical j o u r n a l s does not, on this view, seem so ludicrous after all. F u r t h e r m o r e , the possibility of recurring defeaters of one kind or a n o t h e r is m a d e , by Plantinga, into a real threat to faith. T r u e , P l a n t i n g a emphasises t h a t if a believer finds a defeater-defeater w h e n faced with a potential defeater for the belief that G o d exists, it does not follow that his belief in G o d was based on the a r g u m e n t which defeats the potential defeater. Nevertheless, the crucial question concerns the believer's failure to find an a r g u m e n t to defeat the potential defeater in these circumstances. W h a t then? P l a n t i n g a says that if the potential defeater c a n n o t be defeated, the believer should not continue to hold the belief dogmatically. Here, then, the defeaters which P l a n t i n g a h a s in m i n d clearly d o affect the very s u b s t a n c e a n d possibility of believing in G o d . W e r e that not the case, the whole issue of the desirability or otherwise of a d o g m a t i c faith would not arise. T h e r e would be no need, for example, for Nicholas Wolterstorff to disagree with P l a n t i n g a ' s view on d o g m a t i s m . Wolterstorff argues t h a t it m a y be p a r t of a believer's noetic s t r u c t u r e that belief in the existence of G o d is more i m p o r t a n t t h a n any other belief. In that event, no m a t t e r how successful the defeating a r g u m e n t against that belief m a y be, a n d despite his inability to answer it, a believer will continue to believe in G o d . Wolterstorff says: Of course, for a believer w h o is a m e m b e r of m o d e r n W e s t e r n intelligentsia to have his theistic conclusions proved n o n r a t i o n a l is to be p u t into a deeply troubling situation. T h e r e is a biblical category which applies to such a situation. It is a trial, which the believer is called on to e n d u r e . Sometimes suffering is a trial. M a y it not be t h a t sometimes the nonrationality of one's conviction t h a t G o d exists is a

trial, to be endured? 1 5 T h e s e r e m a r k s m a y find echoes in the obvious t r u t h t h a t faith is tried again a n d again, but that t r u t h is placed here in a curious context. E n d u r i n g in the faith despite suffering is often a deepening of the faith. I n d e e d , the suffering has often been a formative factor in the d e v e l o p m e n t of faith. But w h a t would it m e a n to say, in terms of Reformed epistemology, t h a t e n d u r i n g in a faith which you c a n n o t show has not been defeated rationally is a d e e p e n i n g of t h a t faith? W h a t would it m e a n to say t h a t the very a r g u m e n t which seems to show that it is irrational to believe in G o d is an aspect of the formation of t h a t belief? T h u s , WolterstorfFs comparison between the e n d u r i n g of suffering by the believer a n d the e n d u r a n c e of accusations of irrationality in one's believing is not a felicitous one. It seems, then, t h a t if we accept P l a n t i n g a ' s account of belief in G o d as being g r o u n d e d in conditions which turn out to be prima-facie conditions or justifications of the belief, subject to defeaters which are, in t u r n , subject to defeater-defeaters, a n d so on, the possibility of the radical irrationality of religion is a trial which never ends. It may be t h o u g h t this conclusion is of little consequence, since Reformed epistemologists do not indulge in positive apologetics. T h i s is not so, for in terms of negative apologetics the consequences of a successful defeater are enormous. Plantinga's whole case is t h a t no good reason can be given to p r e v e n t the believer placing belief in G o d in the f o u n d a t i o n s of his noetic structure. But if a good reason is provided, if a defeater emerges which c a n n o t itself be defeated, then the believer has no right to place belief in G o d in the f o u n d a t i o n s of his noetic structure. T h e very f o u n d a t i o n s of his beliefs have been denied him. I n that event, the f o u n d a t i o n s have been destroyed. Yet the possibility of defeating a r g u m e n t s is supposed to be forever present. O n this view, even if the f o u n d a t i o n s are not destroyed or shaking, there is always the threat of e a r t h q u a k e s . In Plantinga's epistemology, the trial of faith's rationality never ends for one simple reason: justifications never come to an end either.

Notes 1. De Boer, 'Reformed epistemology', p. 24. 2. Plantinga, 'Is Belief in God Rational?', p. 13. 3. Ibid. 4. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, para. 143. 5. Alston recognises the circularity of the appeal but draws the wrong conclusions from it. 6. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, para. 144. 7. See Peter Losin, 'Reformed Epistemology', The Reformed Journal, vol. 32, issue 4 (April 1982), pp. 21-3. 8. Alvin Plantinga, 'Reformed Epistemology Again', The Reformed Journal, vol. 32, issue 7 (July 1982), p. 7. 9. George I. Mavrodes, 'Jerusalem and Athens Revisited' in Alvin Plantinga and Nicholas Wolterstorff (eds), Faith and Rationality (University of Notre Dame Press, Indiana, 1983), p. 195. 10. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, para. 105. 11. G.J. Warnock, Berkeley (Peregrine Books, London, 1969). 12. See J . L . Austin, Sense and Sensibilia, ed. G.J. Warnock (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1962). 13. This issue will be our central concern in Part Four. 14. Plantinga, 'Reason and Belief in God', pp. 67-8. 15. Nicholas Wolterstorff, 'Can Belief in God Be Rational?' in Alvin Plantinga and Nicholas Wolterstorff (eds), Faith and Rationality (University of Notre Dame Press, Indiana, 1983), p. 177.

5 Epistemology and Justification by Faith

W e have seen two i m p o r t a n t differences between the t r e a t m e n t of basic propositions in R e f o r m e d epistemology a n d Wittgenstein's t r e a t m e n t of basic propositions in On Certainty. First we saw t h a t these propositions are f o u n d a t i o n a l for the Reformed epistemologist whereas they are not for Wittgenstein. Second, there is a big difference in both cases between these propositions a n d their relation to the noetic structures, to use P l a n t i n g a ' s phrase, in which they a p p e a r . T h e f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions of R e f o r m e d epistemology seem isolated. T h o u g h the believer trusts t h a t they are true, they r e m a i n always open to the possibility of error. In Wittgenstein, on the other h a n d , the emphasis is on the way basic propositions underlie our ways of thinking w i t h o u t themselves being subject to d o u b t a n d speculation. Wittgenstein says, ' I t m a y be for example t h a t all enquiry on our part is set so as to e x e m p t certain propositions from d o u b t , if they are ever f o r m u l a t e d . T h e y lie a p a r t from the r o u t e travelled by enquiry.' 1 T h i s marks an i m p o r t a n t difference between the n a t u r e of the enterprises that Reformed epistemology a n d Wittgenstein are engaged in. P l a n t i n g a ' s p u r p o s e is the discovery of w h a t in fact is true. H e w a n t s to give a correct picture of the world. T h i s is very different f r o m Wittgenstein's conception of philosophy. For Plantinga, people have different noetic structures. Some have belief in G o d a m o n g their f o u n d a t i o n a l beliefs a n d some have not. For h i m , the vital question concerns which noetic s t r u c t u r e truly shows things as they really are. I n Wittgenstein, on the other h a n d , his discussion of w h a t he calls a world-picture has n o t h i n g to do with e n d e a v o u r i n g to d r a w u p a list of a p p r o v e d propositions which can be known or believed to be true. H e is not raising the question of w h a t can be known. R a t h e r , he is

investigating w h a t goes d e e p in our ways of thinking, w h a t constitutes bedrock in them. H e is not helping us to m a k e a discovery of things which we did not know before, b u t he is concerned to investigate w h a t is involved in the ways we think. T h e r e will be no one answer to this question. T h e l a n g u a g e - g a m e s we play vary enormously. N o one account of w h a t ' a g r e e m e n t with reality' a m o u n t s to can be given, since the m e a n i n g of w h a t a g r e e m e n t with reality comes to is itself d e t e r m i n e d by the language-games we play a n d the forms of life they enter into. T h e ways in which basic propositions h a n g together in these contexts, Wittgenstein calls our world-picture. As we have already noted, he says T h e child learns to believe a host of things. I.e. it learns to act according to these beliefs. Bit by bit there forms a system of w h a t is believed, a n d in t h a t system some things s t a n d u n s h a k e a b l y fast a n d some are more or less liable to shift. W h a t s t a n d s fast does so, not because it is intrinsically obvious or convincing; it is r a t h e r held fast by w h a t lies a r o u n d it. 2 I t m i g h t be said t h a t whereas Wittgenstein discusses our worldpicture, Plantinga discusses pictures of the world. For Wittgenstein, it would m a k e no sense to speak of establishing a world-picture or of asking w h e t h e r our world-picture is t h e right one. For Plantinga, however, these questions concerning our pictures of the world, o u r noetic structures, are f u n d a m e n t a l . O f course, he does not say t h a t we can know t h a t the picture of the world which has belief in God in its f o u n d a t i o n s really pictures the world, pictures reality. But we believe, have faith, t h a t it does. T h e mistake of the foundationalist is to claim more t h a n this. H e claims to be able to show, by m e a n s of reason, which a m o n g our pictures of the world really picture reality. H e is a child of the E n l i g h t e n m e n t . T h e R e f o r m e d epistemologist not only denies this, but claims to show that the foundationalist too, t h o u g h he does not realise it, lives by faith. H e does not have a criterion of basicality, a reason, which will show him why the propositions he takes to be basic are properly basic or why the propositions he takes to be basic are the only properly basic propositions. T h a t is something he believes. H e does not find it out by any kind of investigation, for it plays a n essential p a r t in any investigation he conducts. H e c o m m i t s himself to his epistemic e n d o w m e n t .

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u n d e r g o change. Some of the practices clash with one a n o t h e r . Is there no question of right a n d w r o n g w h e n this occurs? Does it not m a k e sense to say t h a t our previous practices were mistaken? F u r t h e r , w h e n our practices u n d e r g o change, c a n n o t it come a b o u t t h a t we discover that w h a t we took for granted is in fact a misplaced trust a n d has to be corrected? In contexts such as these, the practices are themselves being questioned. T h e practices themselves seem to be concepts of reality which can be subjected to f u r t h e r scrutiny. Experience m a y show that our concepts of reality do not, in fact, reflect reality. In On Certainty Wittgenstein is constantly e m p h a s i s i n g other possibilities, other ways of doing things. O n the reading of On Certainty we are considering, this notion of possibility is taken to m e a n s o m e t h i n g like 'possible description of reality' or 'possible hypothesis a b o u t reality'. So at the level where practices are c o m p a r e d , there m a y be other possible descriptions of reality besides those we are a c q u a i n t e d with. O u r practices are simply hypotheses a m o n g m a n y possible alternatives concerning how things really are. O f course, we c a n n o t know w h e t h e r our practices do reflect the way things are. W e trust t h a t they do. T h a t trust can be shown to be misplaced, b u t until that h a p p e n s we are justified in exercising it. As we shall see, there is an incoherence in this notion, but, at the m o m e n t , I a m simply e x p o u n d i n g this proposed r e a d i n g of Wittgenstein. It is not h a r d to see why this r e a d i n g should appeal to a R e f o r m e d epistemologist. First, it shows t h a t the religious believer's trust in his practices does not stand in need of a f u r t h e r f o u n d a t i o n or justification. But it does more t h a n this, since, secondly, the believer, it is said, is asked to believe m u c h t h a t is not only not the case at the m o m e n t , but which he has no reason to believe could h a p p e n a p a r t f r o m the fact t h a t it has been promised to him. H e is asked to believe t h a t he is going to survive his d e a t h ; t h a t somehow he is going to shed his present body a n d inherit a new one; is asked to believe that, if he is faithful in certain respects, he will go to a kind of place called heaven, a n d t h a t if he is unfaithful, he will go to a n o t h e r kind of place called hell. W h a t it would be for these promises to be fulfilled does not fall within the r a n g e of his present experience. Yet, now, on this reading of Wittgenstein, this need not trouble h i m unduly. Does not Wittgenstein himself insist that there is no necessity a b o u t our ways of going a b o u t things, or a b o u t the ways we see things? T h i n g s could be seen in very different ways. T h e religious believer,

on this view, is told of a different state of affairs which will c o m e to pass. Because things can always be different, he h a s reason to exercise his trust in the promises he has been given which say t h a t these different states of affairs will come a b o u t . Religion, it is argued, teaches us t h a t a radical c h a n g e is going to take place at the end of our lives; t h a t at the end of time we enter into a reality very different f r o m the one we have known. All t h r o u g h our lives we have looked t h r o u g h a glass darkly, b u t , then, face to face. For all we know, we have lived our whole lives in a distorted m e d i u m . T h i n k of ourselves as t h o u g h we were fish w h o never left the ocean's d e p t h s . T h e fish believe, falsely, t h a t there is n o t h i n g above the ocean, whereas, all the time, a p a r t f r o m the world they know, there is a greater reality above them. O r again, think of ourselves as domestic dogs w h o s h a r e a n d u n d e r s t a n d a m i n i m a l p a r t of the life of the household, while, all the time, the wider a n d greater life in the house goes on. M a y not G o d ' s world be greater t h a n our world a n d his ways higher t h a n our ways? W h e n all distortions pass away, the believer will see G o d a n d himself as they really are. O f course, the believer thinks G o d is no deceiver. H e does not expect his trust in all h u m a n practices to be t h w a r t e d . O n the other h a n d , he does not say t h a t all he sees is all there is to see. T h e believer does not say t h a t how he sees things must be the way things are. T h e r e is always the possibility t h a t his practices are mistaken or incomplete. As a believer, he holds this to be the case, since h u m a n practices a r e subject to correction a n d completion, not in this life, b u t in the world to come. U n t i l t h a t day, the believer travels in trust a n d faith. T h i s is a r e a d i n g of Wittgenstein's On Certainty which a Reformed epistemologist might well be h a p p y with, b u t is it a r e a d i n g of Wittgenstein which can be sustained? I suggest not, for a n u m b e r of reasons. C e n t r a l to the worry being expressed in the r e a d i n g concerning h u m a n epistemic practices is the fear t h a t the practice as such does not reflect h o w things are. In order for that worry to be expressed we need a conception of 'how things are' which is i n d e p e n d e n t of all h u m a n practices. R e m e m b e r , we are not dealing with the question of errors a n d m i s j u d g e m e n t s within epistemic practices, b u t with the issue of the reliability of the epistemic practices as such. T h e worry here is of a familiar sceptical kind. As Peter W i n c h says, these are 'worries a b o u t whether the world can be known to be such as our f o r m s of t h o u g h t seem to p r e s u p p o s e ' . 5 But the worry c a n n o t be expressed

in the way our r e a d i n g presupposes. As we saw, not only was it suggested t h a t we can only trust t h a t epistemic practices reflect how things are, but also that we h a v e f o u n d , on occasion, this trust to be misplaced. W e have discovered that an epistemic practice is mistaken or incomplete. But w h a t can ' m i s t a k e n ' or 'incomplete' m e a n in this context? After all, w h a t is discovered is also, of necessity, in the context of an epistemic practice. B u t in t h a t case, how d o we know that this context or discovery corrects or completes the previous one? H o w would we know w h e t h e r the new discovery takes us closer or f u r t h e r a w a y f r o m how things are? T o know that we would need to know t h a t the epistemic practice which we call correct or complete is nearer to reality t h a n the one we are correcting. But it is j u s t t h a t knowledge which, according to this reading of Wittgenstein, we d o not possess. It is no good either saying t h a t we simply trust t h a t the new or modified epistemic practice is correct or more complete, since our p r o b l e m is the prior one of giving any sense to the terms 'correct' a n d 'complete', w h e t h e r we speak of knowledge or faith in connection with them. W e need a relation to reality of the epistemic practices outside any context w h e r e we could speak of checking w h e t h e r something is real or not. Wittgenstein says, 'Forget this t r a n s c e n d e n t certainty.' 7 A n o t h e r factor which leads us to think of epistemic practices as referring to a reality which t r a n s c e n d s t h e m all, is a view of these practices as hypotheses or descriptions a b o u t the world. T h r o u g h o u t the reading we are considering there is talk of w h e t h e r our epistemic practices in fact show us how things are. W h a t needs to be r e m e m b e r e d is Wittgenstein's r e m a r k , ' I t is w h a t h u m a n beings say that is true or false; a n d they agree in the language they use. T h a t is not a g r e e m e n t in opinions but in form of life.' 8 In the r e a d i n g of On Certainty we are considering, the language in which we distinguish between the real a n d the unreal is itself discussed as though it were an opinion, a hypothesis or description of the real in which we trust. Peter W i n c h refers to this as 'the seductive idea t h a t the g r a m m a r of our language is itself the expression of a set of beliefs or theories a b o u t how the world is, which might in principle be justified or refuted by a n e x a m i n a t i o n of how the world actually is'. 9 Peter W i n c h shows how this idea leads to incoherence. H e does so in discussing Roger T r i g g ' s view t h a t 'An essential function o f l a n g u a g e . . . is to concern itself with w h a t is actually the case. Its business is to c o m m u n i c a t e truth.'10 W i n c h responds by saying, ' I t is speakers of a l a n g u a g e

w h o a t t e m p t to say w h a t is true, to describe how things are. T h e y do so in the language they speak; a n d this l a n g u a g e a t t e m p t s no such thing, either successfully or unsuccessfully.' 1 1 W i n c h illustrates the incoherence involved in T r i g g ' s views by m e a n s of a telling example worthy of complete quotation: If T o m believes t h a t H a r r y is in pain a n d Dick t h a t he is not, then, in the o r d i n a r y sense of the word ' b e l i e f , T o m a n d Dick have different beliefs. But according to T r i g g ' s way of speaking, T o m a n d Dick, because they both speak the s a m e language a n d m e a n the same thing by the w o r d ' p a i n ' , share a c o m m o n belief: even t h o u g h their descriptions of H a r r y are m u t u a l l y contradictory — indeed precisely because they are — they in a sense s h a r e a c o m m o n belief a b o u t reality: p e r h a p s t h a t it contains such a thing as p a i n . But if it is possible to affirm t h a t there is such a thing as pain, it might be possible to d e n y it too. T h e l a n g u a g e in which the denial is couched m u s t be meaningful; a n d it m u s t m e a n the same as the l a n g u a g e in which w h a t is denied might be affirmed, else the denial would not contradict the affirmation. So to d e n y that there is such a thing as p a i n , I m u s t m e a n by ' p a i n ' j u s t w h a t someone w h o affirms t h a t there is such a thing m e a n s by ' p a i n ' . H e n c e we are still both speaking the s a m e l a n g u a g e a n d still, according to T r i g g ' s way of thinking, offering the ' s a m e description of reality'. 1 2 W i n c h claims, quite rightly, t h a t the example illustrates how i m p o r t a n t it is to recognise that the g r a m m a r of a language, the concept of reality in terms of which denials a n d affirmations m a y be m a d e , is not itself a belief or a theory a b o u t the n a t u r e of reality. T h a t is why, for example, a l t h o u g h we can investigate w h e t h e r there are physical objects of s u c h - a n d - s u c h a kind, we would not know w h a t would be m e a n t by saying t h a t we m u s t investigate to find out w h e t h e r there are physical objects. Wittgenstein says, 'A is a physical object' is a piece of instruction which we give to someone who d o e s n ' t yet u n d e r s t a n d either w h a t ' A ' m e a n s or w h a t 'physical object' m e a n s . T h u s it is instruction a b o u t the use of words, a n d 'physical object' is a logical concept. (Like colour, q u a n t i t y ...) A n d that is w h y no such

proposition as formulated. 1 3

'There

are

physical

objects'

can

be

Yet, as W i n c h admits, it is not always easy to distinguish between w h a t belongs to g r a m m a r a n d w h a t belongs to theories or beliefs. T h i s is because the distinction is not itself a stable one, as Wittgenstein shows in On Certainty. T h e r e is two-way traffic between the g r a m m a r of our practices on the o t h e r h a n d , a n d our facts a n d theories on the other. C h a n g e s in the latter can affect the g r a m m a r of our epistemic practices. Nevertheless, as I hope to show, none of this constitutes an e n d o r s e m e n t of the reading of On Certainty which would m a k e it akin to R e f o r m e d epistemology. H o w does it come a b o u t t h a t W i t t g e n s t e i n ' s talk of changes in our epistemic practices leads to the view t h a t we trust t h a t the practices show us how things are? I believe t h a t m u c h of the answer has to do with the way in which Wittgenstein's references to alternative possibilities is taken in On Certainty. W h a t kind of possibility is he talking a b o u t here? O n the reading of On Certainty that we are considering, clearly, the talk of possibilities is taken to m e a n ' t h e possibility t h a t how things are m a y turn out to be other t h a n we h a d s u p p o s e d ' . Since this possibility is forever before us, it seems that we can never be certain a b o u t how things are. P e r h a p s to say we are uncertain is to exaggerate, for we d o have faith in our epistemic practices. But that is all we do have, faith, trust, in w h a t we take for g r a n t e d . T h i s is a b a d m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g of the kind of possibility Wittgenstein is discussing. I n asking us to imagine practices other t h a n our own, other ways in which things might be done, Wittgenstein's p u r p o s e is not to m a k e us u n c e r t a i n a b o u t o u r own practices. T h e possibilities he ask us to imagine a r e logical possibilities, not predictions a b o u t w h a t he thinks m i g h t h a p p e n . T h e p u r p o s e of directing our attention to such possibilities is to disabuse us of certain m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s a b o u t our own practices. For example, to disabuse us of the a s s u m p t i o n t h a t o u r practices are u n d e r p i n n e d by some kind of necessity which makes t h e m w h a t they are, the only practices they could be. T h e g r a m m a r of the l a n g u a g e we speak is not g r o u n d e d in such a necessity. So far, it m i g h t be t h o u g h t , there is a similarity between these conclusions a n d the insistence of R e f o r m e d epistemologists t h a t the f o u n d a t i o n s of our noetic structures are not g u a r a n t e e d by reason. Yet, the similarity is misleading, for w h e n the R e f o r m e d

epistemologist says that he trusts in the f o u n d a t i o n s of his noetic structure, it is trust in the fact t h a t the noetic s t r u c t u r e has the u n d e r p i n n i n g in reality which we lack knowledge of. Wittgenstein's point, on the other h a n d , is t h a t the whole conception of such an u n d e r p i n n i n g is confused. T h e difference is seen in the fact that, for Wittgenstein, our epistemic practices are groundless. P l a n t i n g a distances himself from t h a t view, saying that they are well g r o u n d e d , a l t h o u g h our conviction to t h a t effect is itself a m a t t e r of faith r a t h e r t h a n knowledge. But as I said in C h a p t e r 3, it c a n n o t be emphasised too strongly that Wittgenstein's postulation of alternative possibilities is not m e a n t to cast d o u b t on our own procedures. T h e same holds for those cases where he considers actual changes which have affected the g r a m m a r of the language we use in various contexts. But, once again, the consideration of other possibilities in either context has, above all, a logical aim: not to u n d e r m i n e or d e n y the n a t u r a l n e s s of our practices, b u t to emphasise it. O n the o t h e r h a n d , in stressing the n a t u r a l n e s s of our world-picture Wittgenstein is not establishing it as the right one. N o worldpicture is the right one. But in saying this Wittgenstein is not e m b r a c i n g a form of relativity. H e is not saying t h a t every person h a s a right or t h a t every g r o u p has a right to his or their worldpicture as the right one. If he were saying this, Wittgenstein would be taking the task of philosophy to be the establishing of w h a t can be known, the establishing of which world-picture is the right one. But t h a t is not how Wittgenstein conceives of his task. I n noting changes in ways of thinking which m a y occur or have occurred, Wittgenstein is not testing hypotheses a b o u t the s t r u c t u r e of the world. R a t h e r , he is bringing out w h a t is involved in these ways of thinking. H e is not testing their f o u n d a t i o n s for they have no foundations. H e says they are groundless. T o avoid that m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g in f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m , he calls our ways of thinking a r b i t r a r y . T h e fact that the distinction between g r a m m a r , theories a n d beliefs is not a stable one m a y t e m p t us back to some f o r m of f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m or, in avoiding it, t e m p t us to e m b r a c e an alternative akin to R e f o r m e d epistemology. Wittgenstein says, ' T h e mythology m a y c h a n g e back into a state of flux, the river-bed of t h o u g h t s m a y shift. But I distinguish between the m o v e m e n t of the waters on the river-bed a n d the shift of the bed itself; t h o u g h there is not a s h a r p division of the one f r o m the other.' 1 4 In considering w h a t is involved in these shifts, it is i m p o r t a n t to

r e m e m b e r t h a t Wittgenstein does not believe t h a t all the cases can be given the s a m e t r e a t m e n t . It will not do, therefore, to j u m p from one context to a n o t h e r as if w h a t can be said in one context can be applied in some general way to a n o t h e r . As always, everything d e p e n d s on the g r a m m a r of the cases in question. Sometimes, w h a t is fixed, w h a t c a n n o t be d o u b t e d , was once arrived at experimentally: ' I t m i g h t be imagined t h a t some propositions of the f o r m of empirical propositions were h a r d e n e d a n d functioned as channels for such empirical propositions as were not h a r d e n e d b u t fluid; a n d t h a t this relation altered with time, in t h a t fluid propositions h a r d e n e d , a n d h a r d ones b e c o m e fluid.'15 T a k e , for example, the way in which some experimental findings are so central t h a t they become a n o r m within which f u r t h e r experiments are discussed, w i t h o u t themselves being questioned. For example: T h i n k of chemical investigations. Lavoisier makes experiments with substances in his l a b o r a t o r y a n d now he concludes t h a t this a n d t h a t takes place w h e n there is b u r n i n g . H e does not say t h a t it might h a p p e n otherwise a n o t h e r time. H e has got hold of a definite world-picture — not of course one t h a t he invented: he learned it as a child. I say world-picture a n d not hypothesis, because it is the matter-of-course f o u n d a t i o n for his research a n d as such also goes u n m e n t i o n e d . 1 6 O t h e r scientists would not have been surprised at the w a y in which Lavoisier drew his conclusions. T h e y would take his procedures as obvious. But, of course, some experimental findings m a y have m a j o r repercussions within a science. T h e y m a y shift our whole w a y of looking at things scientifically, so that, in this instance, the experimental findings shift the f r a m e w o r k within which we investigate. T h i n k of the shift f r o m a Ptolemaic system to a heliocentric system in physics. Obviously, this h a d m a j o r implications for investigation. A system which once seemed fixed was o v e r t h r o w n , but the overthrow was not like the overthrow of a hypothesis within a scientific system, b u t was the overthrow of the system itself. It m u s t be r e m e m b e r e d , however, t h a t the Ptolemaic system can still be used. I n the heliocentric system things are viewed by taking the sun as central. I t has proved far less c u m b e r s o m e a n d more fruitful in terms of empirical results to use this system. T h i s is why science finally went in t h a t

direction. It is i m p o r t a n t to r e m e m b e r that: it is a direction in which physics went. T r u e , the new direction m e a n t that w h a t was not d o u b t e d before, namely, t h a t the sun rotates a r o u n d the earth, was no longer accepted. Physicists can give reasons for the greater fruitfulness of the new theory. But w h a t would it m e a n to ask t h e m why they relied on physics? T h a t would be a different question for which no answer could be given. T h e difference can be b r o u g h t out if we think of w h a t is w r o n g in describing Wittgenstein as discussing the categories in which we think. T o talk of categories will encourage us to think of employing categories. T h i s talk is most at h o m e in science where a physicist m a y switch f r o m one f r a m e of reference to a n o t h e r , in one context, for example, using a corpuscular theory of light, in a n o t h e r , wave theory. A physicist will be able to tell us why he m a d e the switch. I n the example of the switch to the heliocentric system, the c h a n g e is more f u n d a m e n t a l , as we have seen, b u t it is still a category which the physicist employs. B u t Wittgenstein w a n t s to move f r o m these examples to others w h e r e talk of employing categories would be forced a n d strained. Wittgenstein, in these other contexts, w a n t s to emphasise t h a t we do not employ o u r ways of thinking; we are employed in t h e m . T h i n k of a different b u t related example. O n e of the propositions which Wittgenstein says we do not question is that the e a r t h has existed for m a n y years. W e do not f o r m u l a t e this proposition, but it is involved in w h a t we do in a m y r i a d ways, a n d it is these ways of acting which hold the proposition fast. Wittgenstein says: T h e existence of the earth is r a t h e r p a r t of the whole picture which forms the starting-point of belief for me. Does my telephone to N e w York s t r e n g t h e n my conviction t h a t the e a r t h exists? M u c h seems to be fixed a n d it is removed f r o m the traffic. It is so to speak s h u n t e d onto an u n u s e d siding. 1 7 Again, note, Wittgenstein says t h a t we do not d o u b t , not t h a t we cannot. But t h a t does not m e a n t h a t we c a n d o u b t it if we w a n t to. Wittgenstein asks, ' C a n I d o u b t at will?' It is because Wittgenstein has been taken to a n s w e r that question in the affirmative t h a t some have a r g u e d t h a t we cannot be otherminded. 1 8 T h e y look for some kind of necessity in the ways we think on which our thinking in these ways can be based. Wittgenstein's point is t h a t we do not need such a notion of t r a n s c e n d e n t a l necessity to c a p t u r e the fact that we have no choice

a b o u t these f u n d a m e n t a l ways in which we think. But, now, w h a t h a p p e n s w h e n this way of thinking is confronted by a n o t h e r which seems to conflict with it? H o w are we to think of this? Wittgenstein says: M e n have believed t h a t they could m a k e rain, why should not a king be b r o u g h t u p in the belief t h a t the world began with him? A n d if M o o r e a n d this king were to meet a n d discuss, could M o o r e really prove his belief to be t h e right one? I do not say t h a t M o o r e could not convert the king to his view, b u t it would be a conversion of a special kind; the king would be b r o u g h t to look at the world in a different way. R e m e m b e r t h a t one is sometimes convinced of the correctness of a view by its simplicity or symmetry, i.e. these are w h a t i n d u c e one to go over to this point of view. O n e then simply says something like 1 That's how it m u s t be'. 1 9 T h e i m p o r t a n t difference between this example a n d the f u n d a m e n t a l changes within physics, is t h a t here we have no reference to a subject within which the different ways of looking at the world compete. No, M o o r e would be trying to a w a k e n the king to all t h a t is involved in his w a y of looking at the world. T h e way the king looks at it m a y seem a w k w a r d a n d c u m b e r s o m e . W e are not told t h a t it a p p e a r s so to the king, for t h a t would p r e s u p p o s e that he h a d the kind of interests we have in looking at the world. Wittgenstein c a n n o t be read as m e a n i n g that in the case of this clash, 'the world' is w h a t the two views have as their c o m m o n topic, s t a n d i n g as competing hypotheses or descriptions of it. If that were the case, then M o o r e would be saying that he h a d already checked his way of looking at the world a n d found it more satisfying t h a n the king's. Wittgenstein says, 'But I did not get my picture of the world by satisfying myself of its correctness; nor do I have it because I a m satisfied of its correctness. No: it is the inherited b a c k g r o u n d against which I distinguish between true a n d false.' 2 0 If M o o r e fails to p e r s u a d e the king w h a t he has failed to give him is any interest in or sense of history. M o o r e can distinguish between true a n d false statements a b o u t alleged events which have taken place on e a r t h , but he d o e s n ' t check on w h e t h e r the e a r t h itself exists. As Wittgenstein says, 'If the true is w h a t is g r o u n d e d , then the g r o u n d is not true, nor yet false.' 2 1 But w h a t of the questioning king? Wittgenstein replies, 'If someone asked us " b u t is t h a t true?" he

might say "yes" to him; a n d if he d e m a n d e d g r o u n d s we might say " I c a n ' t give you a n y g r o u n d s , b u t if you learn more you too will think the s a m e . " If this d i d n ' t come a b o u t , that would m e a n that he c o u l d n ' t for example learn history.' 2 2 W h a t M o o r e tries to do in relation to the king is not so m u c h correct him, but initiate him into an interest in history. T h e absence of such interests a n d the inability to a n s w e r such questions m a y lead us to say that our way of looking at things is far richer t h a n the king's. But the use of the c o m p a r a t i v e should not mislead us. W h a t this comes to is that given a n interest in certain questions, we can answer t h e m a n d the king c a n ' t . But, then, those interests are precisely our interests, p a r t of the interest we have in things. T h e king m a y not have these interests. O f course, we m a y p e r s u a d e him to have them, b u t that would be to a w a k e n h i m to a sense of history. T h e t e m p t a t i o n is to think t h a t we must have an interest in history or questions a b o u t the d u r a t i o n of the earth. T h i s example is unlike the one in which Wittgenstein speaks of a g a m e b e c o m i n g pointless once it is discovered t h a t its o u t c o m e can be d e t e r m i n e d by the second move in it. T h e r e , the g a m e is rendered pointless because of more general features it shares with other competitive games. M o o r e a n d the king are not competitors in this sense. Let us consider a f u r t h e r example which will bring us nearer to the religious examples we w a n t to come to in the end. Wittgenstein wrote On Certainty before a n y o n e h a d l a n d e d on the moon. At that time, it m a d e no sense to d o u b t w h e t h e r one h a d been on the m o o n . T h e d o u b t could not connect u p with anything, n o t h i n g would h a n g on it. Wittgenstein says, ' E v e r y t h i n g t h a t I have seen or h e a r d gives me the conviction t h a t no m a n has ever been far from the earth. N o t h i n g in my picture of the world speaks in favour of the opposite.' 2 3 As we all know, things have c h a n g e d a n d m a n h a s l a n d e d on the moon. T h e fact t h a t this has h a p p e n e d obviously changes the p a r a m e t e r s of w h a t it is a n d is not reasonable to believe. O n the other h a n d , the present position is an interesting one. Because very few people have been on the moon, it still makes no sense to me to d o u b t w h e t h e r I have been there any m o r e t h a n it makes sense for me to d o u b t w h e t h e r I was in I n d i a last year. T h e change is t h a t the content of the d o u b t is no longer ruled out as u n i m a g i n a b l e . But, on the other h a n d , it is not like d o u b t i n g whether it was Ystalyfera or Ystradgynlais I went to in the Swansea Valley, w h e r e c n e could easily be mistaken for the other. Yet, if space travel b e c a m e c o m m o n p l a c e ,

then d o u b t i n g w h e t h e r one has been on the m o o n could itself be a c o m m o n p l a c e d o u b t , as would assurances that one knew one h a d been there:' " I know t h a t I have never been on the m o o n . " T h a t sounds quite different in the circumstances which actually hold, to the way it would if a good m a n y m e n h a d been on the moon, a n d some p e r h a p s without knowing it. In this case one could give g r o u n d s for this knowledge.' 2 4 But, at the time of writing, when no one h a d been on the moon, Wittgenstein imagines w h a t it might be like to be confronted by a counter-claim. First, he imagines this in a child w h o has been told this by an adult: S u p p o s e some adult has told a child t h a t he h a d been on the m o o n . T h e child tells me the story, a n d I say it was only a joke, the m a n h a d n ' t been on the moon; no one has ever been on the moon; the moon is a long way off a n d it is impossible to climb u p there — If now the child insists, saying p e r h a p s that there is a way of getting there which I d o n ' t know etc. w h a t reply could I m a k e to him?... — But a child will not ordinarily stick to such a belief a n d will soon be convinced by w h a t we tell him seriously. 2 0 T h a t the child should react in this w a y is extremely i m p o r t a n t ; it is a condition of the child's entry into the world we know a b o u t . A n d it is p a r t of our expectation t h a t a child will react in this way. T h e child shares our world a n d teaching children in the expectation of certain responses is p a r t of that world. T h e y soon p u t away childish things. But in the middle of the p a r a g r a p h in which he cites the example of the child, Wittgenstein also says this: ' W h a t reply could I m a k e to the a d u l t s of a tribe w h o believe t h a t people sometimes go to the m o o n ( p e r h a p s t h a t is how they i n t e r p r e t their d r e a m s ) , a n d w h o indeed g r a n t t h a t there are no o r d i n a r y m e a n s of climbing u p to it or flying there? 2 6 T h i s is different f r o m the example of the child, for now we are talking a b o u t the adults of a tribe. In the case of the child, its s u r r o u n d i n g s were such t h a t the s u r r o u n d i n g s it w a n t e d to give to the story of going to the m o o n would not be sustainable. Wittgenstein has in m i n d considerations such as the following in face of someone asking, ' B u t is there no objective truth? I s n ' t it true, or false, t h a t someone h a s been on the moon? If we are thinking within

our system, then it is certain t h a t no one has ever been on the m o o n . N o t merely is n o t h i n g of the sort ever seriously reported to us by reasonable people, b u t o u r whole system of physics forbids us to believe it. For this d e m a n d s answers to the question. ' H o w did he overcome the force of gravity?' ' H o w could he live w i t h o u t an a t m o s p h e r e ? ' a n d a t h o u s a n d others which could not be answered. 2 7 Now, in one sense, the tribe u n d e r s t a n d the force of these questions, for as we have already noted, they ' g r a n t t h a t there a r e no o r d i n a r y m e a n s of climbing u p to it or flying there'. But instead of this admission leading in the direction we expect in the child's replies, w h e n instructed, we get this: ' I n s t e a d of all these answers we m e t the reply, " W e d o n ' t know how one gets to the moon, b u t those w h o get there know at once t h a t they a r e there; a n d even you c a n ' t explain everything." ' Wittgenstein says ' W e should feel ourselves intellectually very d i s t a n t from someone w h o said this.' 2 8 I m m e d i a t e l y after this discussion comes the following r e m a r k : ' I s n ' t this altogether like the way one can instruct a child to believe in a G o d , or t h a t none exists, a n d it will accordingly be able to p r o d u c e a p p a r e n t l y telling g r o u n d s for the one or the other?' 2 9 Wittgenstein's r e m a r k a b o u t a feeling of intellectual distance is an interesting one. It suggests t h a t there is something there, a way of looking at things, which one m a y be intellectually d i s t a n t f r o m . I t is not like the sense of distance experienced between us a n d the mentally u n b a l a n c e d or the d e r a n g e d w h o m a y w a n d e r a m o n g us m u t t e r i n g a b o u t their f r e q u e n t visits to the m o o n . T h e i r words lack connection with w h a t lies a r o u n d them; in fact, it is their disconnectedness, their obsessiveness, which m a r k s t h e m off. B u t it is not like that with t h e tribe Wittgenstein refers to. P r e s u m a b l y , their r e m a r k does link u p with the s u r r o u n d i n g s of their lives, b u t it is the character of t h a t link which eludes us. O f course, m a n y a m o n g us will simply say ' W h a t a load of superstitious rubbish!' I n saying that, p r e s u m a b l y , they m e a n t h a t such a r e m a r k m a d e in the context of the network of beliefs in which we were teaching the child would not merely fail to fit in, b u t would not qualify as something which could fit in. But the same reasonable a p p e a l to s u r r o u n d i n g s should be applied to the tribe; t h a t is, we should surely e n d e a v o u r to see a n d a p p r e c i a t e the c h a r a c t e r of the network of beliefs in which the r e m a r k is m a d e . W e m a y fail in the a t t e m p t . C o n s i d e r a similar example

Epistemology and Justification

by Faith

Wittgenstein considers elsewhere. H e asks: H o w a m I to find out w h e t h e r this proposition is to be regarded as an empirical proposition — 'You'll see your dead friend again?' W o u l d I say: ' H e is a bit superstitious?' N o t a bit. H e might have been apologetic ( T h e m a n w h o stated it categorically was m o r e intelligent t h a n the m a n w h o was apologetic a b o u t it). 'Seeing a d e a d friend', again m e a n s n o t h i n g m u c h to me at all. I d o n ' t think in these terms. I d o n ' t say to myself, 'I shall see so a n d so a g a i n ' ever. H e always says it, b u t he d o e s n ' t m a k e a n y search. H e puts on a queer smile. 'His story h a d that dreamlike quality'. M y answer would be in this case 'Yes', a n d a p a r t i c u l a r explanation. 3 0 T h e explanation, p r e s u m a b l y , would be in terms of the g r a m m a r of the l a n g u a g e being used. T h e r e is an obvious connection with o r d i n a r y uses of 'see', but also 'the g r a m m a r is modified in the new circumstances a n d it thereby comes to bear a different sense'. 3 1 W h a t determines w h e t h e r such modification h a s taken place is the s u r r o u n d i n g s of the language, the connections it has with other aspects — hopes, fears, aspirations, etc. — of the lives of the people w h o speak in this way. Peter W i n c h h a s emphasised the special difficulties which m a y occur w h e n the s u r r o u n d i n g s in which expressions we m a y find strange have their use, belong to a culture other t h a n our own. 3 2 Yet, similar difficulties m a y arise within our own culture w h e r e familiarity with religion can so easily breed c o n t e m p t . W e assimilate the religious utterances to s u r r o u n d i n g s to which they do not belong, saying ' W e do not believe...' as if we were presenting an opposite point of view. W e say we d o not believe in the resurrection of the d e a d , t h a t we do not believe in a last j u d g e m e n t , etc., etc., as t h o u g h we were d e b a t i n g alternatives within a c o m m o n f r a m e w o r k . Yet if we start telling a believer w h a t we m e a n , we often find he does not take it in that way at all. F u r t h e r , w h e n we say we do not believe it we, too, often m e a n t h a t we can m a k e n o t h i n g of it. T a k e n in the way we are t e m p t e d to take it, the believer's claims do not even begin to be credible. Wittgenstein illustrates these points well as follows: I have a m o d e r a t e education, as all of you have, a n d therefore know w h a t is m e a n t by insufficient evidence for a forecast.

S u p p o s e someone d r e a m t of the Last J u d g e m e n t , a n d said he now knew w h a t it would be like. Suppose someone said: ' T h i s is poor evidence.' I would say: ' I f y o u w a n t to c o m p a r e it with the evidence for it's r a i n i n g t o m o r r o w it is no evidence at all.' H e m a y m a k e it sound as if by stretching the point you m a y call it evidence. But it m a y be more t h a n ridiculous as evidence. But now, would I be p r e p a r e d to say: 'You are basing your belief on extremely slender evidence, to p u t it mildly.' W h y should I regard this d r e a m as evidence — m e a s u r i n g its validity as t h o u g h I were m e a s u r i n g the validity of the evidence for meteorological events? If you c o m p a r e it with a n y t h i n g in Science which we call evidence, you c a n ' t credit t h a t a n y o n e could soberly argue: 'Well, I h a d this d r e a m . . . therefore... Last J u d g e m e n t ' . You might say: 'For a b l u n d e r , t h a t ' s too big.'... I m e a n , if a m a n said to m e after a d r e a m t h a t he believed in the Last J u d g e m e n t , I ' d try to find out w h a t sort of impression it gave him. O n e attitude: ' I t will be in a b o u t 2,000 years. It will be b a d for so a n d so a n d so, etc.' O r it m a y be one of terror. I n the case where there is hope, terror, etc., would I say there is insufficient evidence if he says, 'I believe...? I c a n ' t treat these words as I normally treat 'I believe so a n d so'. It would be entirely beside the point... 3 3 T h e person w h o fails to u n d e r s t a n d w h a t the believer is saying finds himself at an intellectual distance f r o m w h a t is being said. H e is not confronted by competing hypotheses within a c o m m o n system: S u p p o s e someone were a believer a n d said: 'I believe in a Last J u d g e m e n t ' , a n d I said: 'Well, I ' m not so sure. Possibly.' You would say t h a t there is an e n o r m o u s gulf between us. If he said ' T h e r e is a G e r m a n a e r o p l a n e o v e r h e a d ' , a n d I said 'Possibly, I ' m not so sure', y o u ' d say we were fairly near. 3 4 T h e e n o r m o u s gulf which separates t h e m is not the e n o r m o u s gulf between two vastly different hypotheses, but the g a p between someone for w h o m belief in the Last J u d g e m e n t guides his whole life a n d someone who m i s u n d e r s t a n d s the c h a r a c t e r of the belief a n d treats it as one which is akin to a hypothesis. It is clear t h a t Wittgenstein does not treat religious belief in that way:

Also, there is this extraordinary use of the word 'believe'. O n e talks of believing a n d at the s a m e time one doesn't use belief as one does ordinarily. You m i g h t say (in the n o r m a l use): 'You only believe — oh well...' 3 5 In On Certainty, Wittgenstein gives the following examples of religious beliefs where he speaks in terms of w h a t is said contradicting w h a t is normally said: I believe t h a t every h u m a n being has two parents; but Catholics believe that J e s u s only h a d a h u m a n mother. A n d other people might believe t h a t there are h u m a n beings with no p a r e n t s , a n d give no credence to all the contrary evidence. Catholics believe as well t h a t in certain circumstances a wafer completely changes its n a t u r e , a n d at the s a m e time t h a t all evidence proves the contrary. A n d so M o o r e said 'I know t h a t this is wine a n d not blood', Catholics would contradict him. I do not think this is a particularly good example because it is not accurate. W h a t Catholics in fact say is t h a t the wafer h a s become the body of Christ while not denying t h a t any physical analysis would show that the consecrated host h a d not changed its physical characteristics. T h e y do not say that all evidence proves t h a t the wafer has not become the body of Christ. O f course, it m a y be extremely difficult for someone to u n d e r s t a n d w h a t is m e a n t by saying t h a t the wafer has become something else in this context. P e r h a p s in the sense in which the enquiry is carried on, there is n o t h i n g to u n d e r s t a n d . Calling the s a c r a m e n t a mystery might be one way of indicating that one m u s t die to a certain kind of u n d e r s t a n d i n g in order to be able to accept it. Wittgenstein would accept t h a t if we were to call this clash between M o o r e a n d the Catholic over the E u c h a r i s t a contradiction, it is not contradiction within a c o m m o n system of beliefs. T h e case of the Virgin Birth is a m u c h h a r d e r one to u n d e r s t a n d , since it m i g h t be a r g u e d that, there, we do have a clash within a c o m m o n way of speaking. In the preceding p a r a g r a p h Wittgenstein says: I might therefore interrogate someone w h o said t h a t the e a r t h did not exist before his birth, in order to find out which of my convictions he was at odds with. A n d then it

might be that he was contradicting my f u n d a m e n t a l attitudes, a n d if t h a t were how it was, I should have to put u p with i t . " But if the contradictions were within a c o m m o n system there would be no question of p u t t i n g u p with it. O f course, someone m a y be rejected as u n t e a c h a b l e . But this is not the kind of context, as we have seen, that Wittgenstein has in m i n d , a n d in the Lectures and Conversations he says t h a t it is odd to say t h a t the unbeliever has the opposite belief from the believer. H e says t h a t while he m a y call it believing the opposite, w h a t it a m o u n t s to saying is that the believer a n d the unbeliever think in different ways. Wittgenstein says that it is t e m p t i n g to ask of one's way of thinking, ' I s n ' t this an hypothesis, which, as I believe, is again a n d again completely confirmed?' 3 8 but he corrects this immediately by saying ' M u s t n ' t we say at every turn: " I believe this with certainty"?' 3 9 which does not m e a n , as we have seen, that o n e is trusting an u n c o n f i r m e d hypothesis. But on the reading of On Certainty which would m a k e it akin to R e f o r m e d epistemology, t h a t is w h a t all epistemic practices become — u n c o n f i r m e d hypotheses a b o u t the n a t u r e of reality. Reality never changes, only concepts of reality c h a n g e a n d we trust, have faith, that our concept of reality is correct.

Notes 1. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, para.88. 2. Ibid., para.21. 3. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philisophical Investigations, trans. G.E.M. Anscombe (Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1953), vol.1, p.211. 4. Ibid., vol.1, p.217. 5. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, para. 110. 6. Peter Winch, 'Language, Belief and Relativism' in H.D. Lewis (ed.), Contemporary British Philosophy, 4th series, p.328. 7. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, para.47. 8. Wittgenstein, Investigations, vol.1, p.241. 9. Winch, 'Language, Belief and Relativism', p.336. 10. Ibid., pp.324-5. 11. Ibid., p.324. 12. Ibid., p.325. 13. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, para.36. 14. Ibid., para.97. 15. Ibid., para.76. 16. Ibid., para. 167. 17. Ibid., paras. 209 and 210. 18. See J o n a t h a n Lear, 'Leaving the World Alone', Journal of Philosophy (1982). 19. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, para.92. 20. Ibid., para.94. 21. Ibid., para.205. 22. Ibid., para.206. 23. Ibid., para. 102. 24. Ibid., para.111. 25. Ibid., para. 106. 26. Ibid. 27. Ibid., para. 108. 28. Ibid., para. 106. 29. Ibid., para.107. 30. Ludwig Wittgenstein, 'Lectures on Religious Belief in Cyril Barrett (ed.), Lectures and Conversations on Aesthetics, Psychology and Religious Belief (Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1966) pp.62-3. 31. Winch, 'Language, Belief and Relativism'. 32. See Peter Winch, 'Understanding a Primitive Society' in his Ethics and Action (Routledge and Kegan Paul, London, 1972) and 'Language, Belief and Relativism'. 33. Wittgenstein, Lectures and Conversations, pp.61-2. 34. Ibid., p.53. 35. Ibid., pp.59-60. 36. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, para.239. 37. Ibid., para.238. 38. Ibid., para.241. 39. Ibid., para.242.

6 Religion and Epistemology

In considering various examples of basic propositions in On Certainty, we have been asked, by Wittgenstein, to appreciate w h a t goes d e e p in our ways of thinking. T h e s e ways of thinking are misunderstood if they are t h o u g h t of as hypotheses concerning descriptions of an u n c h a n g i n g reality which transcends t h e m all. T h i s r e m a i n s the case even t h o u g h ways of thinking u n d e r g o changes a n d m a y be eroded. Above all, we have seen the necessity of looking at each example of basic propositions f r o m the s t a n d p o i n t of the m o d e of discourse in which they are found. T h e r e are special, difficulties, however, relating to the religious examples. As we have seen, Wittgenstein, in postulating certain 'alternatives' to our ways of thinking, is concerned to e m p h a s i s e a n d u n d e r l i n e w h a t is f u n d a m e n t a l to us in our attitudes. It is in order to b r i n g this out, to disabuse us of a notion of necessity u n d e r p i n n i n g these attitudes, t h a t talk of alternatives is introduced. It must be r e m e m b e r e d , however, t h a t not all his examples a d m i t of this t r e a t m e n t . In imagining certain other ways of going on, Wittgenstein has to fill out, as best he can, r u d i m e n t a r y sketches of w h a t these alternative possibilities a m o u n t to — other ways of buying a n d selling, other ways of ascribing blame, other ways of talking a b o u t d i s t a n t planets, etc., etc. T h e changes, if they were to come about, would m a k e e n o r m o u s differences. Nevertheless, t h a t ' s w h a t they would be — differences, a n d things would go on in these very different ways. But in other cases, Wittgenstein says, if someone c a m e to d o u b t his s u r r o u n d i n g s we would say he h a d gone insane. W h a t if someone I h a d known for a long time suddenly started claiming t h a t for a long time he h a d been living elsewhere? Wittgenstein says, 'I should not call this a mistake, but r a t h e r a m e n t a l

d i s t u r b a n c e , p e r h a p s a transient one.' 1 But, of course, religious beliefs are not of this sort. If they a r e denied we d o not regard those w h o d e n y t h e m as mentally d i s t u r b e d . O n the contrary, it m a y be more likely that, for the m a j o r i t y of people, it is the religious believers w h o are r e g a r d e d as in some way confused. W h a t are the special difficulties relating to the religious cases? First, as we have seen, most of the 'alternatives' Wittgenstein talks of a r e logical alternatives. H e does speak at times of beliefs a n d ways of looking at things which people have actually held, but, for the most part, his references to other ways of d o i n g things are to i m a g i n a r y states of affairs. I have argued t h a t his m a i n p u r p o s e in doing so is to show t h a t there is no q u e e r kind of necessity u n d e r p i n n i n g our practices; b u t t h a t does not m e a n t h a t we are in any d o u b t a b o u t them. In the case of religious beliefs, however, it m a y be t h o u g h t , this is simply not true. After all, we are not thinking here of logical alternatives, other ways of doing things. O n the contrary, this way of doing things is in our midst a n d we a r e called on to m a k e a decision with respect to it. Some believe in it, others do not believe it, a n d some, believers a n d unbelievers alike, have d o u b t s a b o u t it. So the presence of religious practices in our midst m a y t e m p t us to revert to some kind of f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m or to something akin to R e f o r m e d epistemology with respect to it. Second, within religion itself a central place is given to religious mystery. G o d is a mystery which h u m a n u n d e r s t a n d i n g c a n n o t exhaust. If this religious mystery is t u r n e d into an epistemological mystery, if instead of seeing t h a t the G o d who is worshipped is a h i d d e n G o d , we start thinking of all our ways of thinking as screens which hide G o d f r o m us, then it is easy to see how we can regard all our ways of seeing things as based on trust, a trust t h a t they point to a n u n c h a n g i n g reality. I n fact, I a m t e m p t e d to think that in the r e a d i n g of On Certainty we have been considering, a religious influence has been at work. A certain u n d e r s t a n d i n g of the religious distinction between the unreality of this world a n d the reality of G o d ' s world h a s become a general epistemological view. Calvin writes: For as long as our views are b o u n d e d by the earth, perfectly content with our own righteousness, wisdom a n d strength, we fondly flatter ourselves, a n d fancy we are little less t h a n demigods. But, if we once elevate our t h o u g h t s to God, a n d consider his n a t u r e , a n d the c o n s u m m a t e perfection of his

righteousness, wisdom, a n d strength, to which we o u g h t to be conformed — w h a t before c h a r m e d us in ourselves u n d e r the false pretext of righteousness, will soon be loathed as the greatest iniquity; w h a t strangely deceived us u n d e r the title of wisdom, will be despised as extreme folly; a n d w h a t wore the a p p e a r a n c e of strength, will be proved to be most wretched impotence. So very r e m o t e f r o m the divine purity is w h a t seems in us the highest perfection. 2 U n d e r s t o o d in a certain way, these religious distinctions m a y be taken to imply, epistemologically, t h a t even our best knowledge a n d certainties a r e b u t incomplete expressions of s o m e t h i n g awaiting completion in a world to come. In this w a y all our ways of thinking are regarded as mere opinions a n d the possibilities to which Wittgenstein d r a w s our attention become, not ways of illuminating w h a t is f u n d a m e n t a l in our ways of thinking, b u t indications that reality m a y be very different f r o m the ways in which we think of it. I n religious contexts, calling life on e a r t h incomplete has its points, b u t in epistemological contexts calling our ways of thinking opinions has no practical i m p o r t . Wittgenstein says:

But imagine people w h o were never quite certain of these things, b u t said that they were very p r o b a b l y so, a n d t h a t it did not pay to d o u b t them. Such a person, then, would say in my situation ' I t is extremely unlikely t h a t I have ever been on the m o o n ' , etc., etc. How would the life of these people differ f r o m ours? For there are people w h o say t h a t it is merely extremely p r o b a b l e t h a t w a t e r over a fire will boil a n d not freeze, a n d t h a t therefore strictly speaking w h a t we consider impossible is only i m p r o b a b l e . W h a t difference does this m a k e in their lives? I s n ' t it j u s t t h a t they talk r a t h e r more a b o u t certain things t h a n the rest of us? 3 W h a t of these two a r g u m e n t s f r o m religious to general epistemological conclusions? T h e y fail because they do violence to the g r a m m a r of religious belief. W i t h respect to the a p p e a l to mystery in religion, I do not p r e t e n d to have given an alternative account of its religious significance. T h a t will be one of our chief concerns w h e n we come to consider concept-formation in religion. 4 All I a m pointing out at the m o m e n t is t h a t if such talk is i m p o r t e d

into epistemology in the way suggested, it becomes idle talk, having no practical i m p o r t — r a t h e r an o d d effect for a n allegedly m o m e n t o u s religious truth to have. But with respect to the first a r g u m e n t relating to the presence of religious belief a m o n g us as an alternative a m o n g others, enough has already been said to show that its presence need not entail either f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m or R e f o r m e d epistemology as the a p p r o p r i a t e analyses of the fact. T h e reason w h y can be b r o u g h t out by a brief consideration of an interesting a t t e m p t to reconcile these two s t a n d p o i n t s . Stephen J . W y k s t r a has pointed out t h a t m a n y basic beliefs Plantinga appeals to would t u r n out not to be basic at all, in the eyes of foundationalists, if 'basic' were u n d e r s t o o d to m e a n t h a t the beliefs are in fact not checked by an individual for evidence in favour of them. T o say t h a t all beliefs m u s t have evidence in this sense is a form of w h a t W y k s t r a calls extravagant evidentialism which no foundationalist need hold. Yet this is the form of foundationalism which Plantinga often attacks. According to this view, a belief could be properly basic if an individual himself h a d not carried out the a p p r o p r i a t e inferences to its conclusion for himself. But plenty of our beliefs are acceptable w i t h o u t question by us — the conclusions of scientists, a n e w s p a p e r report of an air disaster, etc., etc., without our checking the reports for ourselves. But this does not show t h a t the beliefs do not s t a n d in need of evidence. W y k s t r a ' s suggestion is t h a t e x t r a v a g a n t evidentialism should be replaced by sensible evidentialism, which suggests t h a t to say a belief is evidenceessential, is to say it s t a n d s in need of evidence, only in the sense that the belief would be in trouble if it were discovered in the c o m m u n i t y t h a t no evidential case for it is available. For W y k s t r a , the issue is w h e t h e r belief in G o d is evidence-essential for the c o m m u n i t y of theists. It would not be a m a t t e r of indifference, he claims, if no evidence were t h o u g h t to be available. O n the other h a n d , he recognises that m a n y think there is something amiss with the suggestion that belief in G o d is evidence-essential. H e says: For one thing, this seems to p r e s u p p o s e t h a t it is epistemically better to believe in G o d on the basis of an inferential case than to believe in a basic way — even t h o u g h our exemplars of religious faith (Moses, or Isaiah, or J e s u s , for example) seem to believe in a n d know G o d in a basic r a t h e r t h a n inferential way. F u r t h e r , sensible evidentialism

seems here to put the u n e d u c a t e d believer in an inferior a n d epistemically d e p e n d e n t position, relative to some C h r i s t i a n intellectual elite t h a t has the competence to assess the inferential case for G o d ' s existence. 5 W y k s t r a does not w a n t to dismiss these considerations lightly, b u t it seems to m e t h a t this is w h a t he does, nevertheless, in his a t t e m p t to reconcile the religious perspective with sensible evidentialism. H e tries to distinguish between prepositional knowledge of G o d a n d existential knowledge of G o d , the latter being the only one that m a t t e r s in the end. H e says t h a t this does not give C h r i s t i a n intellectuals the edge over believers a n y m o r e t h a n the evidence sought by Biblical scholars gives t h e m an edge over simple readers of the Bible. Yet this begs the question. W h e t h e r Moses saw G o d in the b u r n i n g b u s h or w h e t h e r J e s u s was the Son of G o d are not m a t t e r s based on historical evidence. B u t sensible evidentialism m u s t regard these m a t t e r s of faith as something which could, in principle, be disproved by showing t h a t there is no evidence available for them. T h a t there is no evidence available outside religious categories, it seems to me, is one of the i m p o r t a n t defining characteristics of the g r a m m a r of these religious truths. Also, it seems t h a t W y k s t r a ducks the m a i n issue. W h a t if the intellectuals did conclude that no evidence for belief in G o d is available; would t h a t overthrow the e x e m p l a r s of faith, which provide, on W y k s t r a ' s own admission, the most i m p o r t a n t sense of belief? Surely, w h a t is needed, instead of c o n j u r i n g u p a philosophical use of 'reasoning to religious conclusions', is to pay attention to the sense of the exemplars, something which would itself be a p r o p e r pursuit for philosophical enquiry. I t m a y be t h a t the tensions in the analogy to which I a m referring have some force for W y k s t r a , for w h e n we come to his suggestions concerning w h a t it might m e a n for intellectuals to find sufficient evidence for G o d ' s existence, we find h i m saying this:

A n d if there is a case for theism of the sort t h a t evidentialists see as essential, one m i g h t not be able to show to a n o t h e r t h a t this is so as one can for a scientific theory; for a n o t h e r ' s capacity to a p p r e h e n d it m a y well d e p e n d in p a r t u p o n knowing G o d existentially, u p o n living one's life in t h a t project of redemptive love that only His grace makes possible. T h i s d e p e n d e n c e of the cognitive u p o n s o m e t h i n g

deeper t h a n the cognitive is, it seems to me, entirely compatible with sensible evidentialism. 6 T h i s last sentence needs considerable f u r t h e r a r g u m e n t , since, f r o m w h a t has been said, the analogy with other enquiries has m a d e a n y application of sensible evidentialism to the existence of G o d strained in the extreme. If, indeed, the cognitive (philosophical) interests did p a y attention to the non-cognitive (religious) beliefs, then we would see t h a t t h e tension between belief a n d unbelief c a n n o t be satisfactorily accounted for in evidentialist terms. O n t h a t m a t t e r , it seems to me, P l a n t i n g a is right. T h e d i s p u t e between belief a n d unbelief is not one in which probabilities a n d evidence are weighed within a c o m m o n system. T h e g a p between w h a t the believer w a n t s to say a n d w h a t the unbeliever denies is itself a grammatical gap. T o reject religion, or to come to G o d , is not to reject or e m b r a c e a hypothesis within a c o m m o n way of looking at things, but, r a t h e r , to reject or e m b r a c e a whole way of looking at things. T h a t is why we have a word like conversion to characterise coming to believe. T h e convert t u r n s a r o u n d , comes to things f r o m a new direction. Speaking of t h a t direction, w o r s h i p of God, W y k s t r a says t h a t we all enter it as children or not at all. T h e religious i m p o r t of t h a t r e m a r k , the sense in which we are all as little children before God, has its h o m e within religious worship. It encapsulates the spirit in which we are asked to w o r s h i p G o d . It is not a r e m a r k a b o u t the epistemological status of worship. T h e r e is n o t h i n g u n c e r t a i n a b o u t how we are to come to G o d ; we m u s t come as little children. T h e r e is a d e e p m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g , therefore, if such r e m a r k s are taken as signs of the relative uncertainty of religious views of the world w h e n c o m p a r e d , let us say, with physics or o r d i n a r y perception. Yet, curiously enough, this is w h a t has h a p p e n e d f r o m both some Calvinist a n d some Catholic perspectives in relation to the epistemic status of religious practices. First, let us see how this has h a p p e n e d f r o m a Calvinist perspective. William P. Alston characterises perception a n d religious belief as ways of objectifying our experience. T h e crucial question for him, therefore, is w h e t h e r these epistemic practices do, in fact, give us information a b o u t the reality they claim to convey to us. H e says, ' T h e tough p r o b l e m is to d e t e r m i n e w h e t h e r

we are justified in conceptualizing our experience in these terms.' 7 As we have seen, there are difficulties from the outset in this way of stating the p r o b l e m . T o w h a t are we supposed to refer to decide w h e t h e r one practice objectifies reality more or less t h a n a n o t h e r , or, indeed, to d e t e r m i n e w h e t h e r it objectifies reality at all? W h a t e v e r we appeal to will itself be some epistemic practice which, in being such, is logically on a p a r with the practices being assessed a n d so can be of no help in the metaphysical assessment. Alston c a n n o t tell us w h a t he m e a n s by the 'experience' we are supposed to objectify in o u r conceptualisations. So in asking w h e t h e r the latter are successful, there is no question of c o m p a r i s o n between 'experience' a n d our conceptualisations. Alston, in fact, accepts these difficulties, a n d says that all j u d g e m e n t s a b o u t the success of our conceptualisations are internal to them. O u r epistemic practices are to be j u d g e d from the fruits of experience. T o this, Wittgenstein replies But isn't it experience that teaches us to j u d g e like this, t h a t is to say, that it is correct to j u d g e like this? But how does experience teach us, then? We m a y derive it from experience, but experience does not direct us to derive a n y t h i n g f r o m experience. If it is the ground of our j u d g i n g like this, a n d not j u s t the cause, still we d o not have a g r o u n d for seeing this in turn as a g r o u n d . No, experience is not the g r o u n d for our g a m e of j u d g i n g . N o r is its o u t s t a n d i n g success. 8 Since Alston thinks there is something which we do not possess, namely, the c o m p a r i s o n of the epistemic practices with reality, at best, the practices can tell us w h a t seems to be the case, b u t never w h a t is the case. As we have seen, the expression of this qualification before our certainties is idle a n d has no practical i m p o r t . O f course, the needless distinction is vital to the whole enterprise of R e f o r m e d epistemology. W e d o not have knowledge of reality. R a t h e r , it is said we have faith in the fruits of our epistemic practices. But, as we have already seen, if these fruits can only express w h a t seems to be the case, no a m o u n t of c o m p o u n d i n g of w h a t seems to be the case can yield w h a t is the case. W e live by faith, not by knowledge. T h e only justification we have of our epistemic practices is faith in their fruits. But Alston is concerned with a c o m p a r i s o n of the fruits of various epistemic practices. O f course, for Alston, relying on perception is j u s t as m u c h a m a t t e r of faith as relying on G o d . O n the other h a n d , there seems to be far more a g r e e m e n t a b o u t

the fruits of perception t h a n there is a b o u t the fruits of religious faith. M o s t people are convinced by the former, b u t this c a n n o t be said of the latter. T h i s disparity m a y be t h o u g h t to cast d o u b t on the fruits of the life of the spirit, b u t Alston says that the c o m p a r i s o n is hardly a fair one: It is really i n a p p r o p r i a t e to c o m p a r e the situation of the ordinary believer, vis-a-vis [Christian practice] with the situation of the n o r m a l a d u l t h u m a n being vis-a-vis [the practice of perception]. For we are all masters of the latter practice. W e emerged f r o m our a p p r e n t i c e s h i p in early childhood long before we reached the age of philosophical reflection on these matters. But in C h r i s t i a n practice we are, almost all of us, at the stage of early infancy, j u s t beginning to learn to recognize the other reality from ourselves, j u s t beginning to recognize the m a j o r outlines of the landscape, a n d one should a d d , j u s t beginning to respond to t h e m a p p r o p r i a t e l y . H e n c e we m u s t look outside our own experience to the tiny minority t h a t qualify as masters of the spiritual life, both for some intimation of w h a t m a s t e r y of this practice is like a n d for an answer to the question w h e t h e r this enterprise proves itself by its fruits. W e c a n n o t hope to arrive at a definitive a n s w e r to t h a t question f r o m the outside. O f course there is a r e m e d y for t h a t — to get inside. But t h a t is an a r d u o u s a n d t i m e - c o n s u m i n g task, not one to be a t t e m p t e d in the course of an essay. M e a n w h i l e we m u s t glean such hints as we can f r o m the lives, works a n d t h o u g h t s of the likes of M o t h e r T e r e s a of C a l c u t t a as to w h a t it is to be more t h a n b a b e s in the experience of G o d , a n d as to w h a t it is to respond to this experience in the way it indicates. 9 Alston's a r g u m e n t oscillates disastrously between conceptual a n d religious reflection. It conflates the g r a m m a r of a practice with the relation in which a n individual s t a n d s to the practice. W e m u s t b e a r in m i n d , t h r o u g h o u t , t h a t Alston's aim is m e a n t to throw light on the issue w h e t h e r , in c o m p a r i s o n with perception, we are justified in conceptualising our experience in t e r m s of C h r i s t i a n practice. C o m p a r e d with the a g r e e m e n t evidenced in perception, as w h e n , on a clear day, we all agree t h a t we are seeing a tree, Alston points out t h a t the weak in the Faith vastly o u t n u m b e r the strong. But this observation does n o t h i n g to aid

the c o m p a r i s o n of the practices as practices, since the distinction between weakness a n d strength in believers is one which is d r a w n within religious practice; they are weak or strong in the Faith. Alston conflates the issue of how strong religious belief is a m o n g the a d h e r e n t s to a practice with the issue of the epistemic status of the practice itself. If the m a j o r i t y of believers are weak in their a d h e r e n c e to a practice, of course, the practice is weakened. But this weakness is not a sign of d o u b t a b o u t the c h a r a c t e r of spirituality, for if the weaknesses are confessed or recognised, it is only in the light of knowledge of the exemplars of faith t h a t such confession or recognition can, logically, occur. Alston conflates the issues in such a way t h a t the weaknesses of the m a j o r i t y of believers casts d o u b t on the conceptual p a r a m e t e r s of the practice, even w h e n within the practice itself is found the view t h a t only a minority will be strong in it. W h a t would m a k e the logic a n d g r a m m a r of Faith really obscure would be an inability a m o n g people to be sure of w h a t is m e a n t by tentativeness or strength in the Faith, or a confusion of seriousness with mediocrity a n d banality. T h e r e is a f u r t h e r complication concerning being like children before G o d . T r u e , Paul does distinguish between those w h o are babes in the Faith a n d those w h o are ready for the strong meat of the W o r d . O n the o t h e r h a n d , coming before God as helpless as a child is h a r d l y an expression of a beginner's stage in Christianity, since t h a t is the p a r a d i g m of the disposition towards G o d which believers are told to strive for. Saints often say they are the greatest sinners. But if someone did confess to being a b a b e in the Faith in the Pauline sense, that would not be, as Alston seems to think, a r e m a r k of someone outside a practice w h o would like to get inside it, but, rather, an expression of one of the most familiar confessions h e a r d within Christianity. O f course, if other rival ways of thinking begin to exercise a hold on the believer, d o u b t s of a n o t h e r kind m a y beset him: not d o u b t s a b o u t his growth in grace, b u t d o u b t s a b o u t w h e t h e r t h e concern really m e a n s a n y t h i n g at all. Alston's mistake is to think t h a t d o u b t s of the latter kind can be answered in terms of d o u b t s of the first kind. A similar move, it seems to me, is m a d e by J a m i e Ferreira in c o m p a r i n g Wittgenstein with J o h n H e n r y N e w m a n . T h i s c o m p a r i s o n , as we shall see, can be an extremely fruitful one, b u t Ferreira is prevented f r o m seeing this by the epistemological presuppositions she brings to the discussion. T h i s need not have been the case, for m u c h of the g r o u n d w o r k for a c o m p a r i s o n

between N e w m a n a n d Wittgenstein h a d been already accomplished in two r e m a r k a b l e essays by J a m e s C a m e r o n published as early as 1957 a n d 1960. Little attention has been paid to t h e m , but they merit our attention in the present climate of philosophical opinion more t h a n ever. C a m e r o n points out that, t h r o u g h o u t his life, N e w m a n wrestled with the issue of the relations between faith a n d reason a n d their bearing on religious belief. N a t u r a l l y , his views altered d u r i n g the course of their development. W h a t I present here is w h a t C a m e r o n takes to be his most m a t u r e thoughts. N e w m a n c a m e to the conclusion t h a t trying to meet a r g u m e n t s against religious belief by appeal to evidence which was supposed, somehow, to tip the balance in its favour, was an intellectually u n f r u i t f u l exercise. H e regarded those w h o relied on evidentialism, in the m a n n e r of Paley, as the old 'high a n d d r y ' party. In his University Sermons he speaks of 'the age of evidences as " a time when love was cold'". 1 0 I n s t e a d of such a p p r o a c h e s , he e n d e a v o u r e d to meet scepticism h e a d - o n in a m a n n e r reminiscent of H u m e . H u m e insisted that, at a certain level, although it might be m a i n t a i n e d in the study, philosophical scepticism could not be m a i n t a i n e d in practice. H u m e ' s final a p p e a l is to n a t u r e , to w h a t we in fact do. But if someone were to require a f u r t h e r justification of our practices, there is none at h a n d . H u m e says, ' W h e r e reason is lively, a n d mixes itself with some propensity, it ought to be assented to.' 1 1 W r i t i n g of the sceptic H u m e says t h a t 'he m u s t assent to the principle concerning the existence of body, tho' he c a n n o t pretend by a n y a r g u m e n t s of philosophy to m a i n t a i n its veracity. N a t u r e has not left this to his choice, a n d has doubtless esteem'd it an affair of too great i m p o r t a n c e to be trusted to our u n c e r t a i n reasonings a n d speculations.' 1 2 N e w m a n writes ' N a t u r e certainly does give sentence against scepticism.' 1 3 W e think too of Wittgenstein's r e m a r k t h a t while we m a y j u s t a b o u t sustain the t h o u g h t in our philosophical imaginings t h a t h u m a n beings m a y be a u t o m a t a , we c a n n o t sustain it out on the streets w h e n , for example, we m a y be confronted by a g r o u p of playing children. 1 4 T o mistake the policeman in M a d a m e T u s s a u d ' s for a h u m a n being is one thing, to try to extend that mistake to all our dealing with h u m a n beings is ludicrous. O u r trust in n a t u r e a n d in h u m a n beings is shown in the various ways we act with respect to them. So far, the R e f o r m e d epistemologist m i g h t be h a p p y to say t h a t we a r e justified in w h a t we do by faith a n d not by reason. O u r reasons, good a n d b a d , o p e r a t e

within the sphere of our trust. All concerned, H u m e , N e w m a n , Wittgenstein a n d Reformed epistemologists, are as one, against foundationalists w h o claim that, underlying our practices, we possess a concept of reason on which those practices d e p e n d a n d which justifies their rationality. I n this emphasis, as C a m e r o n says, N e w m a n was not using scepticism to press m e n into faith, but raising, in a fresh way, a f u n d a m e n t a l issue in epistemology. Yet N e w m a n , as C a m e r o n also points out, regarded H u m e as an intellectual enemy of religion, despite the obvious respect he h a d for h i m . N e w m a n pointed out t h a t H u m e ' s deficiencies with respect to religious belief were d u e to the fact t h a t he did not extend his epistemological insights to t h a t sphere. H e r e , H u m e did not believe t h a t N a t u r e h a d left us with no choice. C a m e r o n expresses H u m e ' s position well. It is frivolous to raise d o u b t s a b o u t the validity of the m e t h o d s of the n a t u r a l sciences; here the 'experimental philosophy' 1 5 shows its w o r t h by its power to unify within a consistent scheme the world of our perceptions a n d to m a k e the n a t u r a l world serve our purposes. It is equally frivolous to raise d o u b t s as to the claims of the consensus humani in questions of morals. 1 6 B u t there are, for H u m e , no such good reasons, there is no h a p p y coincidence of n a t u r a l propensity a n d rational hypothesis, w h e n questions connected with philosophical theology come to be considered. In these cases the destructive process of philosophical analysis is not inhibited: here we can face without too m u c h anxiety, a n d with a certain satisfaction t h a t no rational h u m a n interests are p u t in peril, the results of such a n analysis. ' T h e whole is a riddle, an enigma, an inexplicable mystery. D o u b t , uncertainty, suspense of j u d g e m e n t , a p p e a r the only result of our most a c c u r a t e scrutiny concerning this subject.' 1 7 W h a t H u m e did not see, because he did not feel it in his own case, nor was it perceived thus in the philosophical culture which s u r r o u n d e d him, was t h a t religion too could be based on an antecedent p r e s u m p t i o n , w h a t we have called a whole way of looking at the world. W h a t N e w m a n c a m e to see was that, properly extended, H u m e ' s originality would show that belief and unbelief go beyond reason. Put in the W i t t g e n s t e i n i a n terms we h a v e already used, the g a p between belief a n d unbelief is itself a

grammatical one. H e r e is N e w m a n extending H u m e ' s insights to examples of religious belief: we trust our senses, a n d that in spite of their often deceiving us. T h e y even contradict each other at times, yet we trust them. But even were they ever consistent, never unfaithful, yet their fidelity would not be thereby proved. W e consider that there is so strong an a n t e c e d e n t p r e s u m p t i o n t h a t they are faithful that we dispense with proof. W e take the point for g r a n t e d ; or, if we have g r o u n d s for it, these either lie in o u r secret belief in the stability of n a t u r e , or in the preserving presence a n d uniformity of Divine Providence — which, again, are points a s s u m e d . As, then, the senses m a y a n d d o deceive us, a n d yet we trust t h e m f r o m a secret instinct, so it need not be weakness or rashness, if u p o n a certain p r e s e n t i m e n t of m i n d we trust to the fidelity of testimony offered for a revelation. 1 8 In Wittgenstein's terms, trust in the uniformity of n a t u r e or trust in divine providence is held fast by all that s u r r o u n d s t h e m for their a d h e r e n t s . T h e lack of consensus concerning religious belief t e m p t s us to think of that belief as a hypothesis to be j u d g e d within a c o m m o n system of assessment. But, as N e w m a n points out, the certainties involved in religion are not the s a m e certainties in which the n a t u r a l sciences are interested. Nevertheless in not seeing that these very differences allowed him to extend his epistemological insights to religion, H u m e was guilty of the philosophical d o g m a t i s m which I noted in C h a p t e r 2 where I q u o t e d J . D . K e n y o n ' s observation t h a t there is an a t t i t u d e ... which is p e r h a p s characteristic of scientific d o g m a t i s m , namely that since G o d is something we can never really know about, agnosticism is intellectually more p r o p e r t h a n either theism or atheism. I f ' k n o w ' implies only internal justification, the premiss is false; if it implies external justification, it is true, but so is the parallel premiss for the physical world, a n d the d o g m a t i s m consists in not d r a w i n g the same conclusion for belief in that topic as well. 19 But w h a t if we do d r a w the s a m e conclusion, w h a t , then? As C a m e r o n points out, the issue then becomes one of why one should e m b r a c e the one outlook r a t h e r t h a n the other. W h y belief r a t h e r

t h a n unbelief? Although at times t e m p t e d to e m b r a c e a version of Pascal's wager, C a m e r o n shows t h a t N e w m a n is again highly original in the way he tackles this question. H e suggests t h a t reflection on our c o m m o n experience of conscience m a y lead us to a sense of a t r a n s c e n d e n t G o d . P e r h a p s N e w m a n is relying too m u c h on the common character of an appeal to conscience, not taking into account how varied a p h e n o m e n o n conscience can be. T h a t a p a r t , however, C a m e r o n is correct in addressing himself to the issue of the sense in which such reflection m a y lead someone to belief in G o d or some u n d e r s t a n d i n g of it. H e points out t h a t N e w m a n c a n n o t m e a n t h a t as a matter of fact such reflection leads to belief, or that in the event of it not leading to it, a person would be guilty of self-contradiction in continuing to talk of conscience without coming to these conclusions. T h e reflection only works for someone w h o has a r u d i m e n t a r y belief already or who, m a y b e , is making r u d i m e n t a r y moves in t h a t direction. Now, it will be said, if the reflective move from conscience to G o d is itself p a r t of some kind of predisposition to m a k e the move, the whole sequence, as an a r g u m e n t , is viciously circular. So it is, b u t N e w m a n h a d already come to the conclusion that you could not a r g u e your way to religious belief in the way evidentialism a s s u m e d . W h a t he is talking a b o u t here, is something different. C a m e r o n says, T h e solution to the difficulty is, I believe, this. In neither case are we faced with an argument in the usual sense. I n neither case is there a m o v e m e n t f r o m premises to conclusion. W e are faced r a t h e r with an insight or a n intuition — these are u n f o r t u n a t e a n d m u c h - a b u s e d words b u t I can think of no better ones — which can indeed be analysed, a n d this is w h a t we d o if we say t h a t a scrutiny of conscience leads us to a belief in G o d or t h a t a n act of cruelty being w h a t it is is evidence for its being morally b a d . Such an analysis has m e a n i n g a n d carries conviction only to those w h o share the insight or intuition a n d recognise the analysis as a true explication of w h a t they already possess. T h i s is why in the field of ethics a n d religion, the field of w h a t N e w m a n calls ' m o r a l t r u t h ' , we tend to use the a m b i g u o u s l a n g u a g e of feeling a n d to suppose that in this field a different m o d e of reasoning is a p p r o p r i a t e , a different logic; p e r h a p s , to echo Pascal yet again, a 'logic of the heart'. 2 0

C a m e r o n does not think philosophers should have to excuse themselves for m a k i n g observations of this kind. H e says T o suppose that in the fields of morality a n d religion we can use the s a m e criteria as those we use in history, n a t u r a l science a n d m a t h e m a t i c s is as a b s u r d as to suppose t h a t we can employ m o r a l a n d religious criteria to d e t e r m i n e questions of science or formal logic. Such a mistake springs f r o m our failure to recognise t h a t religious utterances have (to use the terminology of some philosophers of today) their own logical g r a m m a r . 2 1 Yet having said that, it m u s t be a d m i t t e d t h a t C a m e r o n ' s use of terms like 'insight' a n d 'intuition' a r e u n f o r t u n a t e . A l t h o u g h this is not his intention, they are associated with images of s u d d e n graspings of m e a n i n g or flashes of inspiration, associations which play d o w n the reflective context in which, after all, N e w m a n a n d C a m e r o n are insisting these 'insights' or 'intuitions' occur. M o r e seriously, C a m e r o n ' s 'solution' does not address itself to the i m p o r t a n t p r o b l e m he claims N e w m a n poses for us. H a v i n g seen t h a t belief a n d unbelief are not c o m p e t i n g hypotheses to be assessed by a sovereign reason to which they are both subject, the question posed concerned the choice between belief or unbelief; why one rather than the other? It is no solution to this question to be given examples of reflections which work for those w h o already believe. Surely, C a m e r o n needs to take his own closing r e m a r k s more seriously w h e r e he recognises the g r a m m a t i c a l differences involved. I n ' N e w m a n a n d E m p i r i c i s m ' he stresses how N e w m a n emphasises the f u n d a m e n t a l role which action plays in religious belief, the role of a c o m m i t m e n t in which religious belief h a s its life, b u t he still does not get to grips with the i m p o r t a n t question he posed for us. H o w would one m a n pass f r o m not u n d e r s t a n d i n g the g r a m m a r of religious belief to u n d e r s t a n d i n g it? H o w would a person pass f r o m unbelief to belief? W e have seen a more promising answer in our exposition of Wittgenstein's On Certainty, w h e n reasons come to an end, there is persuasion. O f course, this term is as d a n g e r o u s in its way as those which C a m e r o n used. T h i s is especially the case if we think of persuasion as an alternative m e a n s of convincing someone, as w h e n we say, ' W h e n reason fails, try persuasion' or as w h e n we refer to persuasive as distinct from rational m e t h o d s . T h a t is not w h a t

Wittgenstein has in mind. T h e kind of persuasion he has in m i n d is a form of imaginative elucidation, s o m e t h i n g which will bring about the d a w n i n g of an aspect not previously a p p r e c i a t e d . W e must not forget, once again, that, for Wittgenstein, the basic propositions he discusses in On Certainty are not f o u n d a t i o n s , not prior a s s u m p t i o n s . O n the contrary, they are held fast by all t h a t s u r r o u n d s them. T h e persuasion, if it occurs, will be persuasion in the context of trying to m a k e all t h a t s u r r o u n d s w h a t is basic come alive. W h e n the s u r r o u n d i n g s come alive, w h a t is basic also comes alive; it is, Wittgenstein says, swallowed d o w n with it. T h i s is not a m a t t e r of g r o u n d i n g from without. O u r beliefs, in this context, are groundless. But it is a m a t t e r of elucidating f r o m within. In such elucidation the belief m a y or m a y not come alive for the listener. T h i n k of the way we speak of instruction in the Faith. B u t w h a t we hear m a y come alive in different ways. O n e way is where we say, ' N o w I see the kind of thing it is', w h e r e we u n d e r s t a n d something we did not u n d e r s t a n d before. A n o t h e r way is w h e r e we say 'I believe it' where we actively e m b r a c e t h a t to which we were passive before. T h e difference in these modes of acceptance are shown in the way they enter o u r lives. T h e possibility of this elucidation, which m a y have no effect, of course, or which m a y lead in the directions I have indicated, seems to m e to contrast with the relative isolation of f o u n d a t i o n a l religious beliefs to which we have already called attention in R e f o r m e d epistemology. It also contrasts sharply with the negative c h a r a c t e r of apologetics in t h a t epistemology. W h a t Wittgenstein has to say with regard to persuasion shows the possibility of giving a perspicuous representation of religious beliefs, but not for apologetic purposes, without a n y implication of m e t h o d s of proof which claim to be neutral as between belief a n d unbelief. It does not seem to m e t h a t the scope of these exciting possibilities in epistemology have been a p p r e c i a t e d by J a m i e Ferreira. She finds a m b i g u i t y in C a m e r o n ' s claim, on the one h a n d , t h a t N e w m a n deepened H u m e ' s empiricism by showing t h a t the logical issues were deeper t h a n he h a d supposed, a n d his claim, on the o t h e r h a n d , t h a t religious certainties are g r a m m a t i c a l l y different f r o m other kinds of certainties. She says that this latter claim implies ' t h a t N e w m a n did not think we could get speculative certainty in religion'. 2 2 Ferreira then gives q u o t a t i o n s to show how N e w m a n distinguished between practical a n d speculative certainty where the f o r m e r would be a case of taking something as true 'for practical purposes'. M y a i m is not

to get embroiled in problems of interpretation, where N e w m a n is concerned, but, if that is the kind of practical certainty Ferreira has in m i n d , it is not w h a t C a m e r o n has been talking a b o u t or w h a t Wittgenstein m e a n t in his e m p h a s i s on the p r i m a c y of action. Wittgenstein is not saying that in learning to sit on chairs, set tables, climb stairs, etc., we are learning to act as if there are chairs, tables a n d stairs for practical purposes. His point is t h a t it is in these responses t h a t the concepts of chairs, tables, stairs have their g r a m m a r a n d their life. According to C a m e r o n , N e w m a n is not contrasting the practical a n d the speculative in such contexts, but, r a t h e r , t h r o u g h the originality of his epistemological insights, e n d e a v o u r i n g to shift our conception of t h a t very contrast. H e is suggesting t h a t the very possibility of speculating a b o u t t r u t h or falsity is rooted in contexts w h e r e active responses are taken for g r a n t e d in relation to the subject being discussed. Speculation itself d e p e n d s , in the end, on u n g r o u n d e d practice. I t is in doing so that he opens u p the new possibilities for philosophical discussion we have been noting. T h e r e a r e indications, however, t h a t it is precisely the c h a r a c t e r of these epistemological insights which eludes Ferreira. T h i s can be shown in considering the way she e n d e a v o u r s to show t h a t d o u b t is compatible with religious c o m m i t m e n t . T h i s d o u b t she w a n t s to discuss, however, does not lead to any practical uncertainty. A d o u b t which did lead to such uncertainty would be i n c o m p a t i b l e with the absolute c o m m i t m e n t N e w m a n says the Faith calls for. I t bids us to feel a s h a m e d of such doubts. W h a t kind of d o u b t , then, does Ferreira have in mind? Is N e w m a n referring to logical dubitability? If he were, N e w m a n would be pointing out t h a t our ability to f r a m e the contradictory of a true proposition need not constitute reasonable g r o u n d s for practical d o u b t . For example, if I a m sitting in a room full of friends, I can construct the proposition, 'I a m not sitting in a room full of friends,' b u t this does not give me the slightest reason to d o u b t the facts of my situation. Ferreira argues t h a t N e w m a n h a s in mind the possibility o f a more-than-logical d o u b t . ' N o t / ; is "really" possible — possible without c h a n g i n g the constitution of the world as we know it — yet it c a n n o t "come to pass in m a t t e r of f a c t " in a given case. T h u s , more-than-logical dubitability does not necessarily provide reasonable g r o u n d s for d o u b t . ' 2 3 For N e w m a n , actual assent is not w i t h d r a w n while the t r u t h of the proposition is being investigated. Of course, this suggestion, so far, would be consistent with the negative apologetics of R e f o r m e d

epistemology. O n e ' s religious practice is innocent until proved guilty. O n e m a y believe that every objection will in fact be overcome although there is always the possibility t h a t an objection will occur which one will not be able to meet. U n t i l then, one lives in trust. Ferreira reaches similar conclusions by a t t e m p t i n g to assimilate Newman's more-than-logical doubt with Wittgenstein's discussion in On Certainty of the possibility of o t h e r ways of thinking a n d doing things. As we h a v e seen, Wittgenstein's p r i m a r y p u r p o s e in these examples is a logical one, namely, to rid us of the idea t h a t our ways of doing things are u n d e r p i n n e d by some kind of necessity. Such an u n d e r p i n n i n g it seems, would be given in Ferreira's unexplained reference to 'the unchanging constitution of the world'. Wittgenstein's view is not, as Ferreira seems to think, t h a t since we c a n n o t have knowledge of this constitution, we must act on trust. O n this view, we justify our epistemic practices by faith w i t h o u t knowing w h e t h e r they correspond to reality. If N e w m a n were saying this, he would be close to the Reformed epistemologist. But, of course, he would also inherit all the difficulties we have seen to be associated with that view. W h a t e v e r of that, w h a t can be said is that this is not Wittgenstein's view. For Wittgenstein, a f u n d a m e n t a l shift in our epistemic practices would constitute a f u n d a m e n t a l c h a n g e in our world-view. Such shifts would not be shifts in hypotheses, w h e r e the world r e m a i n s u n c h a n g e d as s o m e t h i n g existing i n d e p e n d e n t l y of t h e m all. W e are back to the view t h a t the g r a m m a r of our language is a description of the world as it actually is. Ferreira quotes a p a r a g r a p h in On Certainty in s u p p o r t of her r e a d i n g of Wittgenstein where in fact her r e a d i n g is exactly w h a t he is opposing. Wittgenstein has been e m p h a s i s i n g t h a t w h e n we claim to know something we can often be asked for our g r o u n d s . H e says that, within our language-games, these g r o u n d s can be provided. For example, I say I know there is a chair in the next room because I've j u s t checked t h a t this is so. But, then, w h a t if we a r e asked why such g r o u n d s are good grounds? W e are t e m p t e d to say t h a t we know they are good g r o u n d s , which suggests t h a t we have f u r t h e r g r o u n d s for saying so. H e r e , Wittgenstein says, we are trying to use 'know' outside the restricted contexts in which it makes sense to do so. For t h a t reason, Wittgenstein says, ' B u t as soon as I say this sentence outside its context, it a p p e a r s in a false light. For then it is as if I w a n t e d to insist that there are

things t h a t I know. G o d himself c a n ' t say a n y t h i n g to me a b o u t t h e m . ' 2 4 Ferreira reads this as m e a n i n g that beyond all our epistemic practices there is the u n c h a n g i n g knowledge of how things are which G o d possesses. W e trust that our practices correspond to it, b u t we can never know. B u t that is exactly w h a t Wittgenstein is denying! H e is saying that not even G o d himself could tell us a n y t h i n g a b o u t such a speculation because it does not m a k e sense. T o think of G o d otherwise, as Ferreira seems to do, is to have a conception of G o d which is as metaphysical as the suppositions which lead one to e m b r a c e it. In discussing R e f o r m e d epistemology, we have h a d reason in this c h a p t e r , a n d on other occasions, to c o m m e n t on the relatively isolated c h a r a c t e r of belief in G o d as a f o u n d a t i o n a l proposition in the noetic structure. G o d is an object of trust, his reality lying b e h i n d all there is. In Ferreira's analysis which we have j u s t invoked, G o d seems to be a limited conception, a regulative idea beyond our epistemic practices. Of course, we trust he is there, but we can never know this. T h i s t r a n s c e n d e n t a l f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m is foreign to the whole tenor of Wittgenstein's On Certainty. T h e basic propositions which he discusses are not g r o u n d e d in a something we know not w h a t beyond our epistemic practices. O n the contrary, they are said to be held fast by all t h a t s u r r o u n d s them. J u s t like 'Physical objects exist' or ' H u m a n beings exist' so ' G o d exists' should be explored in this way. 2 0 It is in this context t h a t we should look to see w h a t is m e a n t by the inescapable reality of G o d . Yet, w h e n we turn to look at the ways in which R e f o r m e d epistemologists have sought to discuss G o d ' s inescapability, f u r t h e r difficulties await us.

Notes 1. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, para. 71. 2. J o h n Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, trans. J o h n Allen (Presbyterian Board of Publication, Philadelphia, 1813), vol. I, bk. 1, ch. 1, pp. 47-8. 3. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, para. 338. 4. See Part Four. 5. Stephen J . Wykstra, 'Plantinga versus evidentialism: relocating the issue', unpublished paper. 6. Ibid. 7. Alston, 'Christian Experience and Christian Belief, p. 106. 8. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, paras. 130 and 131. 9. Alston, 'Christian Experience and Christian Belief, p. 132. 10. John Henry Newman, Sermons Chiefly on the Theory of Religious Belief, preached before the University of Oxford (1843), p. 189. Quoted by J a m e s Cameron in 'Newman and Empiricism' in his The Night Battle (Helicon Press, Baltimore, 1962), p. 232. 11. David Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature, ed. L.A. Selby-Bigge, (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1896), p. 270. 12. I b i d , p. 187. 13. John Henry Newman, 'Lectures on the Scripture Proof of the Doctrines of the Church', Tractsfor the Times, no. 85, 2nd edn, 1840, p. 72. 14. Wittgenstein, Investigations, vol. 1, p. 420. 15. Hume, Treatise, p. xx. 16. I think this conclusion is premature, the case of morals being close to that of religious belief. 17. Cameron, The Night Battle, p. 229. Quotation from David Hume, 'The Natural History of Religion' in his Essays and Treatises on Several Subjects, a new edition, 1822, vol. 11, p. 449. This apparent openmindedness is quite consistent with my stronger view that when actual philosophical arguments for religion are considered, they can be shown to harbour logical confusions and, therefore, could not possibly be valid. 18. Newman, Sermons, p. 206. Quoted by Cameron in 'The Logic of the Heart' in The Night Battle, pp. 210-11. 19. Kenyon, 'Doubts about the Concept of Reason', p. 264. 20. Cameron, 'The Logic of the Heart', The Night Battle, p. 216. 21. I b i d , pp. 217-18. 22. M . J a m i e Ferreira, Doubt and Religious Commitment (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1980), p. 47, fn. 49. 23. I b i d , p. 93. 24. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, para. 554. 25. For a discussion of this point see Phillips, Religion Without Explanation, ch. 10.

7 A Reformed Epistemology?

W e saw, at the outset, t h a t the notion of G o d ' s inescapable reality is h a r d l y c a p t u r e d by the w a r of c o m p e t i n g probabilities to which f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m reduces disputes between belief a n d unbelief. At best, the prize for w i n n i n g the dispute is the right to say, ' I t is highly p r o b a b l e t h a t G o d exists'. R e f o r m e d epistemology endeavours to do justice to the f o u n d a t i o n a l c h a r a c t e r of religious belief, a n d to the notion of G o d ' s inescapable reality. Therefore, as we have seen, they resist the notion of a sovereign reason to which religious belief is answerable. For t h e m , a n y o n e who a d m i t s to such a conception of reason as a m e a s u r e by which belief in G o d is to be assessed becomes 'an unwitting tool of the E n l i g h t e n m e n t , of rational h u m a n i s m ' . 1 At the same time, however, within the R e f o r m e d epistemologists' view of religious belief there is the conception of a G o d w h o is sovereign over all things, reason included. T h e r e is a tension, therefore, between Plantinga's emphasis on negative apologetics a n d the t e m p t a t i o n to think that belief in an all-embracing G o d should yield, in the C h r i s t i a n philosopher, a n all-embracing metaphysical system. For the believing philosopher who can see things clearly, it m a y be t h o u g h t , the sovereignty of G o d , which he acknowledges as a believer, should be reflected in his philosophy in the working out of a n epistemology which is itself sovereign over all alternatives. N o d o u b t a believer does not have to give himself to philosophy, but if he did, then a proper use of reasoning, it is said, should lead to this result. G a r r y G u t t i n g ' s concern is with the fact t h a t this result has not been f o r t h c o m i n g in c o n t e m p o r a r y philosophy of religion. T h o u g h highly c o m p l i m e n t a r y a b o u t the work P l a n t i n g a a n d I have done, he expresses considerable misgivings a b o u t w h a t he

regards as our self-imposed philosophical limitations: ' T h e y ' v e both d o n e excellent work in showing the confusions a n d non sequiturs of intellectual attacks on belief, b u t they give us little idea of why we should believe or why they themselves believe.' 2 F u r t h e r , he suggests t h a t we should at the very least be concerned to find that, in this respect, we a r e at odds with a long tradition of C h r i s t i a n apologetics: You keep saying that positive apologetics is w r o n g - h e a d e d . But w h a t of the long tradition it has within the C h r i s t i a n church? Augustine's City of God was written to a r g u e for the superiority of Christianity to its p a g a n rivals, to, as he said, ' p e r s u a d e the p r o u d how great is the virtue of humility'. T h o m a s A q u i n a s wrote his Summa contra Gentiles to a r g u e for the t r u t h of the Catholic faith against J e w i s h a n d M o s l e m nonbelievers ... But even after the R e f o r m a t i o n a n d a m o n g Christians w h o put a very strong e m p h a s i s on the limits of reason a n d the need for grace, we find the tradition of positive apologetics strong. T h i n k of Pascal, with the elaborate scheme for his Apology or Schleiermacher's Speeches on Religion to its Cultured Despisers, specifically designed to convince r o m a n t i c p a g a n s of the intellectual credibility of Christianity. F r o m the d a y s of the F a t h e r s on, there has been a series of m a j o r C h r i s t i a n thinkers w h o have been strikingly successful in m a k i n g a case for Christianity to nonbelieving intellectuals. Pascal even m a d e Voltaire feel u n c o m f o r t a b l e at his ' s h a d o w across the p a t h ' to a rejection of Christianity. But c o n t e m p o r a r y nonbelievers can read the very best c u r r e n t C h r i s t i a n philosophers (and theologians too, b u t t h a t ' s a n o t h e r m a t t e r ) a n d feel entirely unchallenged in their nonbelief. At most, they'll be more cautious in c o n d e m n i n g Christians for believing. 3 T h e first thing to be said a b o u t my own work in response to these charges is t h a t I do not conceive of it as the work of a C h r i s t i a n philosopher or a C h r i s t i a n scholar. Hopefully, it is the work of a philosopher e n d e a v o u r i n g to become clear a b o u t a cluster of beliefs which have been a n d are extremely i m p o r t a n t in the lives of m e n a n d w o m e n . T h e aim is not to p e r s u a d e people to believe, but to u n d e r s t a n d the c h a r a c t e r of their beliefs. T h e aim is not to p e r s u a d e t h e m t h a t there is a G o d , b u t to see w h a t it m a y m e a n to be so p e r s u a d e d . As we have seen, P l a n t i n g a ' s

concerns are the concerns of a C h r i s t i a n philosopher asking w h e t h e r C h r i s t i a n s have a right to believe w h a t they say they believe. H e thinks it can be shown, by m e a n s of negative apologetics, t h a t no known philosophical a r g u m e n t can deprive t h e m of this right. O f course, in so far as I have been concerned to u n d e r s t a n d the c h a r a c t e r of religious belief, I too have concluded that the philosophical attacks on the intelligibility of religious belief have, for the most part, been d u e to confused u n d e r s t a n d i n g s of its c h a r a c t e r . Yet, these differences a p a r t , G u t t i n g ' s concerns do raise i m p o r t a n t philosophical issues which bring t h e m within the orbit of the work I take myself to be engaged in. W h a t I m e a n is this: if I can get a philosopher to see t h a t his objections to religious belief are confused, he m a y or m a y not become a believer as a result. Nevertheless, he m u s t a p p r e c i a t e something a b o u t the character of religious belief which he did not appreciate before. As we saw in the previous c h a p t e r , this in itself takes us, in certain respects, beyond the limits of negative apologetics. T h i s is m o r e i m p o r t a n t t h a n we m a y realise, a n d we shall r e t u r n to this issue later in the c h a p t e r . For the m o m e n t , however, let us stay with the responses of R e f o r m e d epistemologists to the tensions I have m e n t i o n e d . T h e lack of e m p h a s i s on positive apologptics m a y have led G u t t i n g to u n d e r e s t i m a t e the extent of their metaphysical ambitions. It m i g h t be a s s u m e d t h a t epistemology's task is limited to noting the various noetic structures a n d taking a c c o u n t of w h a t is basic in each of t h e m . After all, we h a v e been told t h a t practices a r e innocent until proved to be guilty a n d t h a t the epistemological resources for such a proof are, in a large n u m b e r of cases, unavailable. F r o m this it might be a s s u m e d that, for the time being at least, the noetic structures which exclude belief in G o d f r o m their f o u n d a t i o n a l beliefs should be d e e m e d innocent too. But, here, m a t t e r s become complicated. O n c e it can be shown that there is no reason why a believer should not have belief in G o d in the f o u n d a t i o n s of his noetic structure, the content a n d c h a r a c t e r of t h a t belief has implications for w h a t can be said of other noetic structures. T h e j u d g e m e n t on other noetic structures f r o m within the religious noetic s t r u c t u r e is necessitated, it seems, by belief in a sovereign G o d . But, as we shall see, in the elucidation of w h a t is involved in such j u d g e m e n t , there is a c o n s t a n t d a n g e r of t u r n i n g religious beliefs into epistemological theories. I n order to do justice to the c h a r a c t e r of religious belief, R e f o r m e d epistemologists also insist t h a t the whole religious noetic

s t r u c t u r e with its f o u n d a t i o n a l beliefs is, in fact, true. T h i s can only be believed. It c a n n o t be proved. Nevertheless, t h a t is w h a t is believed, trusted in. It follows, then, t h a t w h e n R e f o r m e d epistemologists ask w h e t h e r there can be a religious epistemology, they are asking for far more t h a n a n epistemology of religion. T h e latter would be familiar enough. I t would consist in asking epistemological questions concerning religion t h a t are asked of other h u m a n activities as well. I n this way, i m p o r t a n t g r a m m a t i c a l differences m a y come to light; for example, s u r r o u n d i n g the use of 'existence' where G o d ' s existence is concerned: If the question arises as to the existence of G o d , it plays an entirely different role to that of the existence of any person or object I ever h e a r d of. O n e said, h a d to say, t h a t one believed in the existence, a n d if one did not believe, this was r e g a r d e d as something b a d . N o r m a l l y if I did not believe in the existence of something no one would think there was a n y t h i n g w r o n g in this. 4 M a k i n g observations such as these is not w h a t is proposed by the possibility of a Reformed epistemology. W h a t is being proposed is an epistemology, a m o d e of enquiry, which is itself religious in character. Since epistemologies are regarded as theories or hypotheses a b o u t the n a t u r e of reality, which a r e either true or false, R e f o r m e d philosophers c a n n o t tolerate a plurality of noetic structures. T h e r e is an issue of correctness or incorrectness involved. T h e r e can only be one true theory of knowledge. It seems that, according to the R e f o r m e d philosophers we are considering, they trust t h a t the only true theory of knowledge is not only religious, but Christian; not only C h r i s t i a n , b u t Protestant; not only Protestant, but Calvinistic. O f course, even within the R e f o r m e d tradition there are f u r t h e r differences. W h a t is essential to note is t h a t a true theory of knowledge is one which gives a true account of reality. T h i s brings us back full circle to p r o b l e m s we have already discussed. M y aim, at this point, is not to reopen t h e m , but to show how they set the scene for the p r o b l e m of the relation of the religious noetic s t r u c t u r e to non-religious or irreligious noetic structures. In some sense or other it is clear that, for R e f o r m e d epistemology, the non-religious structures have to be deficient. But the difficulties facing the very possibility of a R e f o r m e d epistemology becomc a p p a r e n t w h e n we try to explicate this sense.

C a n Reformed epistemologists say that the a d h e r e n t s to nonreligious noetic structures are mistaken? W h e n we ordinarily speak of someone having m a d e a mistake, we think of him as someone engaged in the same activity as the person w h o is correct with respect to the m a t t e r in h a n d . A simple example would be the case of an arithmetical mistake. T h e person w h o makes a mistake in calculating is governed by the s a m e criteria of correctness as the person w h o calculates correctly. T h e criteria are found in the activity in which they both participate, a n d it is by reference to them that the mistake is pointed out a n d corrected. H e r e the criteria are formal, but essentially the s a m e point can be m a d e where the criteria are informal. For example, a person m a y say, 'You were mistaken w h e n you said t h a t he m a r r i e d her for her money.' W h e n this person corrects the mistake, he does not c h a n g e his conception or that of his friend of w h a t it is to m a r r y a w o m a n for her money. It is in terms of this conception t h a t the discovery of the mistake is m a d e . H e finds out, t h a t his friend was factually w r o n g in this p a r t i c u l a r case, that is all. Both share a c o m m o n s t a n d a r d of behaviour, but one finds out that he h a d m a d e a mistake in a p p l y i n g it. In the arithmetical example a n d in the case of the personal j u d g e m e n t , both p a r t i c i p a n t s , it m a y be said, take p a r t in a p r o c e d u r e which is i n d e p e n d e n t of t h e m individually. T h e meanings involved are n e u t r a l in relation to the two p a r t i c i p a n t s . J u d g e m e n t s of correctness or incorrectness are m a d e within these agreed criteria. Let us now go back to the question of w h e t h e r Reformed philosophers can say t h a t those w h o exclude G o d f r o m their noetic structures are mistaken. D o we find, in this case, too, that those w h o say persons are mistaken s h a r e c o m m o n criteria which would be accepted by the persons said to be mistaken? Put differently, do we have, in this case, too, m e a n i n g s which are neutral with respect to the participants? Notoriously, the answer m u s t be t h a t we do not. T h i s is a fact which Reformed philosophers are not only h a p p y to assent to, but which they go out of their way to emphasise. Cornelius V a n Til is h a p p y to accept the following description of his presuppositionalist viewpoint which he quotes: ' T h e y have held t h a t it is impossible to prove the existence of God to an unbeliever; t h a t one m u s t assume his existence as a basis for a r g u m e n t with an unbeliever, because the unbeliever a n d the believer have no c o m m o n g r o u n d on which they can meet in a r g u m e n t . ' 5 But, in that case, how is the believer to convince the unbeliever; does not the very possibility of it d e p e n d on a

n e u t r a l c o m m o n ground? After all, the C h r i s t i a n w a n t s the nonC h r i s t i a n to forsake his position. It is extremely i m p o r t a n t to note that, in one respect, R e f o r m e d philosophers share a c o m m o n a s s u m p t i o n with foundationalists: they take for g r a n t e d that unless there is common g r o u n d between believers a n d unbelievers, believers would have no justification for saying t h a t the unbeliever is in the wrong. W h e r e they differ is in the foundationalists' claim t h a t this c o m m o n g r o u n d is c o m m o n neutral g r o u n d , namely, the weighing of probabilities in terms of evidence available to believer a n d unbeliever alike. T h i s is w h a t R e f o r m e d philosophers deny. But a denial of n e u t r a l c o m m o n g r o u n d is not a denial of c o m m o n g r o u n d . T h e reasons why c o m m o n g r o u n d is denied is obvious enough: time a n d time again, as the history of theology a n d philosophy shows, w h e n religious belief is s u b m i t t e d to allegedly neutral criteria of assessment, its character is distorted. It is subjected to criteria which are quite alien to it. T h e a b s u r d result is t h a t religious belief is asked to answer to tests of intelligibility which a r e inapplicable a n d i n a p p r o p r i a t e in the first place. But w h a t c o m m o n g r o u n d can be a p p e a l e d to if n e u t r a l c o m m o n g r o u n d is unavailable? T h e a n s w e r of R e f o r m e d philosophers is: that c o m m o n g r o u n d which actually represents the situation accurately, namely, C h r i s t i a n i t y itself. An appeal is m a d e to C a l v i n ' s view t h a t G o d i m p l a n t e d an i n n a t e tendency in all m e n to know him: W e lay it d o w n as a position, not to be c o n t r a v e n e d , t h a t the h u m a n m i n d , even by n a t u r a l instinct, possesses some sense of a Deity. For that no m a n m i g h t shelter himself u n d e r the pretext of ignorance, G o d h a t h given to all some a p p r e h e n s i o n of his existence, the m e m o r y of which he frequently a n d insensibly renews; so t h a t m e n universally know t h a t there is a G o d , a n d t h a t he is their M a k e r , they m u s t be c o n d e m n e d by their own testimony, for not having worshipped him a n d consecrated their lives to his service. If we seek for ignorance of a Deity, it is n o w h e r e m o r e likely to be f o u n d , t h a n a m o n g tribes the most stupid a n d f u r t h e s t from civilization. But, as the celebrated Cicero observes, there is no nation so b a r b a r o u s , no race so savage, as not to be firmly p e r s u a d e d of the being of a G o d . Even those w h o in other respects a p p e a r to differ b u t little f r o m brutes, always retain some sense of religion; so fully are the m i n d s

of m e n possessed with this c o m m o n principle, which is closely interwoven with their original composition. Now, since there has never been a country or family, from the beginning of the world, totally destitute of religion, it is a tacit confession, t h a t some sense of the Divinity is inscribed on every heart. 6 As we shall see, Calvin's view c a n n o t be constructed f r o m this passage alone. It is difficult to extract a consistent reading f r o m the different e m p h a s e s in w h a t he has to say. For the m o m e n t , let us confine our attention to w h a t R e f o r m e d philosophers have m a d e of his remarks, to r e t u r n later to other possible readings of w h a t he has to say. F r o m the passage we have quoted, it does not look as if Calvin intends his r e m a r k s to be an a priori p r o n o u n c e m e n t . M a n ' s n a t u r a l tendency to have some sense of a Deity is not evidence on which belief in G o d is based, but Calvin is offering evidence for the existence of this n a t u r a l tendency. In fact, it is odd to call it a tendency, since, on this reading, all m e n have a sense of the divine. N a t u r e never permits t h e m to forget it. T h e s e m a t t e r s are said by Calvin to be beyond controversy. In fact, their sense is h a r d to d e t e r m i n e . If it is said t h a t everyone has some sense of the Divine, w h a t is to be said of the m a n y people w h o say t h a t they do not? T h e R e f o r m e d philosophers say that, in these cases, the knowledge is still present, b u t has been overlaid a n d obscured by sin. Sin is introduced into the account as a f u n d a m e n t a l explanatory concept. But w h a t kind of explanation is it? C o m p a r e the following: 'I c a n n o t play football because of my cartilage trouble' a n d 'I c a n n o t resist t e m p t a t i o n because of my weak will.' I n the first case, the cause of the trouble is identifiable quite i n d e p e n d e n t l y of its consequence. T h e cartilage trouble is one thing, the inability to play football a n o t h e r . But in the case of weakness of will this is not so. T h e weakness of will is not identifiable i n d e p e n d e n t l y of the failure to resist t e m p t a t i o n . T h a t failure is t h e weakness. W h a t makes the weakness of the will seem to be an i n d e p e n d e n t explanation is t h a t others can be told of a p e r s o n ' s weak-willed disposition. W e m a y say, ' H e w o n ' t s t a n d by you because he's too weak.' H e r e , a prediction is m a d e on the basis of w h a t is k n o w n of the person involved. But if we were asked why we said he was weak-willed, we would have to a p p e a l to acts such as not s t a n d i n g by someone w h e n the occasion d e m a n d e d it.

W h e n we speak of someone being in the grip of sin, our r e m a r k is g r a m m a t i c a l l y akin to the reference to weakness of the will. So in w h a t sense does the reference to sin explain m a n ' s separation f r o m God? W h y are men separated f r o m God? Reply: sin. W h a t is sin? Reply: separation f r o m G o d . If, in describing the separation, we are describing the sin, in w h a t sense does the latter explain the former? Again, the reference to a sinful disposition in a person m a y mislead us in this context. W e m a y say, ' H e w o n ' t resist the t e m p t a t i o n because he is in the grip of sin.' H e r e , we are m a k i n g a prediction based on w h a t we know of the person. W h e r e t h a t t e m p t a t i o n is concerned, he w o n ' t resist it, because he is in the grip of sin. But 'being in the grip of sin' is not contingently related to the falling to t e m p t a t i o n , since if asked to e x p o u n d w h a t is m e a n t by 'being in the grip of sin', we would have to refer to the i n n u m e r a b l e times on which he h a d fallen to t e m p t a t i o n . An a d d e d consideration in this context m a y explain the confusion of treating sin as causally related to being separated f r o m G o d , or as the explanation of the separation. If we w a n t to explain the attractiveness of t e m p t a t i o n s , money, position, etc, we should have to refer to the prestige a n d status of m u c h that t e m p t s people. T h a t prestige a n d status c a n n o t be explained by reference to the individual alone. T h a t prestige a n d status exist in the c o m m u n i t y w h e t h e r he likes it or not a n d it m a y t e m p t him. Sin walks a b r o a d . Nevertheless, w h e n he is t e m p t e d , this does not have the consequence of s e p a r a t i n g him f r o m G o d . It is p a r t of w h a t we m e a n by such separation. Let us now r e t u r n to our m a i n p r o b l e m . R e f o r m e d philosophers say t h a t all m e n have some sense of the Divine. Obviously, some m e n say t h a t they do not. T h i s is explained by reference to sin. But the sin, in this case, would be the denial of knowledge of G o d . Therefore, so far, n o t h i n g has been explained. T h e p r o b l e m seems to r e m a i n : on the one h a n d , the R e f o r m e d philosophers w a n t to say t h a t G o d has inscribed knowledge of himself on the hearts of all m e n in such a way t h a t n a t u r e never allows t h e m to forget it; a n d on the other h a n d they have to a d m i t t h a t there are m a n y w h o deny all knowledge of G o d . Given this u n d e r s t a n d i n g of the p r o b l e m , there is only one solution to it, a solution which R e f o r m e d philosophers e m b r a c e . All the emphasis has to be p u t on saying t h a t knowledge of G o d is overlaid by sin. I n other words, although the sin does not explain the separation f r o m G o d , the correct description of the sin is as overlaid knowledge. I n other words, there m u s t be something a b o u t the denial of those w h o

say they have no knowledge of G o d , some features of their separation from G o d , such that even w h e n they deny all knowledge of God, there is something a b o u t their denial which shows t h a t they still have knowledge of him. T h i s answer, if plausible, would indeed meet the p r o b l e m facing the R e f o r m e d philosophers. T h e y would now be able to say t h a t all m e n have knowledge of G o d because those who deny knowledge of him are in the grip of self-deception. If this could be established, it would also show the n a t u r e of the c o m m o n g r o u n d which exists between believer a n d unbeliever a n d which enables the former to assess the latter. T h e unbeliever is in the grip of self-deception w h e n he denies knowledge of G o d . Therefore, on his own terms, if he u n d e r s t o o d his situation, he would see that he knew G o d . But knowledge of G o d is precisely w h a t the believer possesses. This knowledge, explicit in the believer, overlaid in the unbeliever, is the c o m m o n g r o u n d which makes it possible for the former to j u d g e the latter. V a n Til p u t s the m a t t e r bluntly: ' T h e C h r i s t i a n knows the t r u t h a b o u t the n o n - C h r i s t i a n . ' 7 Such a claim is a n extremely a m b i t i o u s one. If it could be established, it would achieve everything R e f o r m e d philosophers seek in their claim t h a t the believer can only j u d g e the non-believer if there is c o m m o n g r o u n d between them. But, as we shall see, the a m b i t i o n of the claim is its u n d o i n g , inheriting new difficulties for it which c a n n o t be answered. U n d e r s t o o d in a modified form, the thesis presents no difficulty. T h e claim would simply be t h a t m a n y w h o deny all knowledge of G o d are deceiving themselves. Such a claim has to be proved in the p a r t i c u l a r case. T h e r e m a y be features of a p e r s o n ' s behaviour, various tensions a n d strategies, which lead us to say that he is deceiving himself. W e m a y say t h a t he protests too m u c h . M y aim, at this point, is not to explore in detail the logic of this kind of self-deception, 8 but simply to point out t h a t the presence of self-deception, in this sense, is something which h a s to be established. Sometimes Calvin seems to be r e s p o n d i n g to j u s t such a challenge. T h e denials of the unbeliever are shown in their true colours w h e n certain crises engulf him: ' B u t if a n y despair oppress t h e m , it stimulates t h e m to seek him, a n d dictate concise prayers, which prove that they are not altogether i g n o r a n t of G o d , b u t t h a t w h a t o u g h t to have a p p e a r e d before h a d been suppressed by obstinacy.' 9 T h a t being so, it makes sense to say t h a t self-deception m a y or m a y not be present in the case u n d e r examination, a n d , of course, this m a y be said of the believer as well as the unbeliever. W h e n a m a n says he has knowledge of

G o d , or w h e n a m a n denies all knowledge of him, he may or may not be in the grip of self-deception. But this modified a n d modest claim is insufficient to meet the a m b i t i o n s of the R e f o r m e d philosophers. T h e y are not content to say t h a t unbelievers may be deceiving themselves; they say they must be deceiving themselves. V a n Til says, ' H o w then we ask is the C h r i s t i a n to challenge this non-Christian a p p r o a c h to the interpretation of h u m a n experience? H e can do so only if he shows t h a t m a n must p r e s u p p o s e G o d as the final reference point in predication... H e can do so only if he shows the n o n - C h r i s t i a n t h a t he c a n n o t d e n y G o d unless he m u s t first affirm him.' 1 0 T h i s thesis a b o u t the necessary presence of self-deception, in the sense discussed, in the unbeliever, c a n n o t be m a i n t a i n e d . Reformed philosophers give a n u m b e r of examples to illustrate their thesis, but, as we shall see, none of t h e m achieve the desired result. T h e first of these is V a n Til's suggestion t h a t ' T h e unbeliever is the m a n with yellow glasses on his face. H e sees himself a n d his world t h r o u g h these glasses.' 1 1 For a m o m e n t , let us consider the case of a colour-blind person. I n his case, it can be said t h a t his very description of his condition invokes the s t a n d a r d f r o m which he deviates. After all, he is blind to something. T h i s is something he finds out, a n d while this does not m e a n he is cured of his colour-blindness, he learns to cope with it. T h e s a m e m a y be said of other deficiencies of sight. O u r c o m m o n reactions in w h a t come to be r e g a r d e d as s t a n d a r d conditions set the p a r a m e t e r s of the n o r m a l . I n this sense, the s t a n d a r d s set are n e u t r a l as between individuals. But, for Reformed philosophers, there is no n e u t r a l c o m m o n g r o u n d between the believer a n d the unbeliever. I n saying t h a t he does not know G o d , so far f r o m invoking a n o r m he recognises, the unbeliever is denying t h a t there is such a n o r m . I t is a travesty of w h a t he is saying, a n d a mere begging of the question, to c o m p a r e h i m with a colour-blind person. T h e s a m e distinctions apply to a m a n w h o wears coloured spectacles. By calling the spectacles coloured, he is already a d m i t t i n g t h a t w h a t he sees t h r o u g h t h e m deviates f r o m the colours things have in reality. H e learns the distinction by p u t t i n g on the glasses, taking t h e m off, a n d noting the changes in how things look t h r o u g h the glasses. O f course, the unbeliever need m a k e no such admission. His s t a n d a r d s need not be distortions of anything. T h e y are simply different s t a n d a r d s . O n e c a n n o t escape f r o m the logical deficiencies of the analogy by saying t h a t the person c a n n o t remove his glasses, 1 2 or t h a t 'these coloured

glasses are cemented to his face'. 1 3 T h e logical distinctions do not d e p e n d on the contingency of w h e t h e r a person can, in fact, remove his coloured glasses, but in w h a t it m e a n s to call the glasses coloured. If the glasses can be removed, the person can be t a u g h t , like everyone else, the distinction between a p p e a r a n c e a n d reality where colours are concerned. If the glasses c a n n o t be removed, he finds himself in the same position as the colour-blind person, a n d will acknowledge this as the colour-blind m a n does. S u c h acknowledgements can be understood because to talk of colourblindness a n d coloured glasses is already to invoke the n o r m on which such talk is logically parasitic. W h a t the R e f o r m e d philosophers have not even b e g u n to show is how viewpoints which deny all knowledge of G o d are, in the same way, logically parasitic on a s t a n d a r d , in this case, knowledge of G o d , which such viewpoints are supposed to invoke. T h e second example which a t t e m p t s to show t h a t a m a n w h o denies knowledge of G o d really h a s knowledge of him relies on the presence of a troubled conscience in the unbeliever. V a n Til argues: Even m a n ' s negative ethical reaction to G o d ' s revelation within his own psychological constitution is revelational of G o d . His conscience troubles h i m w h e n he disobeys; he knows d e e p d o w n in his h e a r t t h a t he is disobeying his creator. T h e r e is no escape f r o m G o d for a n y h u m a n being. Every h u m a n being is by virtue of his being m a d e in the image of G o d accessible to G o d . As such he is accessible to one w h o without c o m p r o m i s e presses u p o n h i m the claims of G o d . Every m a n has capacity to reason logically. H e can intellectually u n d e r s t a n d w h a t the C h r i s t i a n position claims to be. C o n j o i n e d with this is the m o r a l sense t h a t he knows he is doing w r o n g w h e n he interprets h u m a n experience without reference to his Creator. 1 4 V a n Til m a y well have in m i n d m e n whose denials or protests against G o d reveal a longing for h i m . O n e can locate signs of a troubled conscience even in their acts of denial or rebellion. N o one would w a n t to deny such cases. Calvin seems to have such cases in m i n d w h e n he says, T h e y try every refuge to hide themselves from the L o r d ' s presence, a n d to efface it from their minds; b u t their a t t e m p t s

to elude it are all in vain. T h o u g h it m a y seem to d i s a p p e a r for a m o m e n t , it p r e s u m a b l y r e t u r n s with increased violence; so that, if they have any remission of the anguish of conscience, it resembles the sleep of persons intoxicated, or subject to frenzy, w h o enjoy no placid rest while sleeping, being continually harassed with horrible a n d t r e m e n d o u s d r e a m s . T h e iniquitous themselves, therefore, exemplify the observation, that the idea of G o d is never lost in the h u m a n mind. 1 5 But this is h a r d l y enough to establish V a n Til's claims. H e h a s to say t h a t these features are a necessary feature of all ethical protests against religion. But those w h o utter ethical protests against religion need have no troubled consciences. O n the contrary, they m a y believe t h a t it is those w h o believe in G o d w h o should have troubled consciences. T h e y do not know d e e p d o w n in their h e a r t s t h a t they a r e wrong, or t h a t they are disobeying their C r e a t o r . O n the contrary, they m a y know d e e p d o w n in their hearts t h a t they are in the right, a n d t h a t there is no C r e a t o r . I a m talking here a b o u t w h a t such people would say a n d their psychological state. T h e r e is no reason to accept V a n Til's claims regarding w h a t these must constitute. At the h e a r t of his confusion is his a s s u m p t i o n t h a t the religious assertion t h a t no m a n escapes G o d ' s d e m a n d s a n d d e p e n d s on metaphysical theses a b o u t ethical protests against religion such as those he is propounding. T h e third example is similar to the one we have j u s t considered. I t m u s t not be t h o u g h t , it is said, that the denial of G o d is always self-conscious. O n the contrary, G o d , by his general grace, allows a m a n to be better t h a n the principles he a d o p t s . As V a n Til says, ' H e will live a " g o o d " n o r m a l life. H e will be anxious to p r o m o t e the welfare of his fellow m e n . I n all this he is not a hypocrite. H e is not sufficiently self-conscious to be a hypocrite.' 1 6 Therefore, since in denying G o d , his c o n d u c t , 'his principle', as V a n Til puts it, 'drives him on to the swine t r o u g h ' , some account m u s t be given of his good deeds. G o d , by his general grace, allows h i m to p e r f o r m such deeds. T h e explanation is that in saying he is free of G o d he is deceiving himself. 'Like the prodigal of the scriptural p a r a b l e he c a n n o t forget the father's voice a n d the father's house.' 1 7 T h i s view m a y or m a y not be acceptable as a religious perspective on the morality of the unbeliever, b u t it claims to be more t h a n that. It locates some residue of knowledge

of G o d in the unbeliever. Again, the point is not to deny that this m a y be the case, b u t to deny t h a t it must be the case. V a n Til tends to talk of morality as if it were one thing. H e is then able to talk of it as the conduct required of the Christian, b u t which has become d e t a c h e d f r o m its divine source. Even in these cases, there need be no self-deception in the sense being discussed. T h e morality m a y have become an end in itself for the unbeliever. But there are other cases w h e r e a person's perception of w h a t is required morally of h i m does not accord with a C h r i s t i a n morality. It would be ludicrous to a t t r i b u t e that conduct to G o d ' s general grace, b u t it is c o n d u c t in accord with a morality nevertheless. T o say t h a t within these moralities there must be a lingering knowledge of the father does not even begin to be plausible. V a n Til tends to a s s u m e t h a t any m o r a l viewpoint m u s t have grown f r o m Christianity. H e speaks of the a d h e r e n t s as failing to forget their f a t h e r ' s voice a n d house. B u t w h a t if the m o r a l view concerned owed n o t h i n g to religion, t h a t its beginnings a n d developments were quite i n d e p e n d e n t of religious concepts? T o say t h a t these must be u n d e r s t o o d as deviations f r o m religion is simply to be guilty of a condescending m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g in relation to t h e m . O n c e again, the f u n d a m e n t a l a s s u m p t i o n is being m a d e t h a t to have a religious perspective on other moralities entails having a religious explanation of them. It is clear t h a t V a n Til is m a k i n g this a s s u m p t i o n f r o m t h e following: A son t h a t has gone a w a y f r o m h o m e a n d has been away for a long time might suddenly be p u t face to face with his father. W o u l d it be possible for h i m not to recognize his f a t h e r for w h a t he actually is? So impossible is it for a sinner to deny t h a t Christianity is true. T h e sense of deity within h i m constantly gives the lie to all his theories short of the recognition of G o d as C r e a t o r a n d J u d g e . So also w h e n confronted with Scripture as the W o r d of G o d the n a t u r a l m a n can apply his reductionistic theories only at the cost of an evil conscience. H e m a y be intellectually honest in his research. But at b o t t o m he m a i n t a i n s his theories against better knowledge. 1 8 If the person is intellectually honest, where is the realm in which he has the better knowledge? W h a t e v e r of difficulties such as these, however, the f u n d a m e n t a l a s s u m p t i o n which needs to be questioned is t h a t religious belief in the inescapable reality of G o d

entails giving an explanation of other moralities, etc., in the way the R e f o r m e d philosophers a t t e m p t to do. T h e question which needs to be faced is w h e t h e r religion stands, or needs to s t a n d , in an explanatory relation to these other possibilies. T h e fourth example is m o r e bizarre t h a n the o t h e r three we have examined. According to Alvin Plantinga, ' T h e fact is, Calvin thinks, one w h o does not believe in G o d is in an epistemically s u b s t a n d a r d position — r a t h e r like a m a n w h o does not believe t h a t his wife exists, or thinks she is a cleverly constructed robot a n d has no thoughts, feelings or consciousness.' 1 9 P l a n t i n g a does not give us any context in which we a r e to u n d e r s t a n d a m a n w h o behaves in this way. If he is asking us to imagine a m a n ' s actual behaviour, we are not talking a b o u t someone w h o is epistemically s u b s t a n d a r d , b u t a b o u t someone w h o is insane. I a m taking it for g r a n t e d that we a r e talking of a wife w h o is alive a n d w h o goes a b o u t her daily work in a n d out of the h o m e in the n o r m a l way. I do not suppose t h a t P l a n t i n g a would w a n t to say t h a t people w h o do not believe in G o d are insane. O n the o t h e r h a n d , it m a y be t h a t he is speaking of people w h o hold certain philosophical theories in terms of which they say ( p e r h a p s to their wives) t h a t they c a n n o t know t h a t their wives exist or t h a t they are not m a d e of clockwork. I n t h a t case, o u r task would be to trace the route by which a philosopher c a m e to these confused conclusions a n d a t t e m p t to rescue h i m f r o m them. H e r e , however, there is no difference in the b e h a v i o u r of the d i s p u t a n t s in relation to the wife. T h e y differ philosophically. B u t the difference between religious a n d non-religious perspectives is not a philosophical difference. W h a t separates t h e m in their beliefs a n d convictions is constitutive of their different ways of life. T h e s e different ways of living are not interpretations of a n y t h i n g more u l t i m a t e t h a n themselves. It is one of the deepest t e m p t a t i o n s in philosophy to so regard t h e m . R u s h Rhees expresses the t e m p t a t i o n as follows: I n considering a different system of ethics there m a y be a strong t e m p t a t i o n to think t h a t w h a t seems to us to express the justification of an action m u s t be w h a t really justifies it there, whereas the real reasons are the reasons t h a t are given. T h e s e are the reasons for or against the action. ' R e a s o n ' d o e s n ' t always m e a n the s a m e thing; a n d in ethics we h a v e to keep f r o m a s s u m i n g that reasons m u s t really be of a different sort f r o m w h a t they are seen to be. 2 0

In the fifth a n d final example, we see how R e f o r m e d philosophers are guilty of falling to the t e m p t a t i o n of which Rhees speaks. I n saying t h a t the unbeliever does not believe because of sin, Nicholas Wolterstorff believes t h a t 'sin' m a y usefully be construed as a form of ideology or rationalisation. I n this respect, he thinks t h a t believers, in their t r e a t m e n t of unbelievers, have m u c h to learn f r o m the m e t h o d s of F r e u d a n d M a r x : Given its sources, the way to relieve someone of an ideology or rationalization is not to lay in front of h i m or her evidence for its falsehood. Usually that w o n ' t work. O n e m u s t get at those h i d d e n d y n a m i c s a n d bring t h e m to light. C r i t i q u e or t h e r a p y , r a t h e r t h a n presenting evidence, is w h a t is required. 2 1 I t m a y be t h o u g h t that a l t h o u g h no one example we have considered need be true in the case of all unbelievers, some e x a m p l e of t h a t kind must be true in all cases. T o insist t h a t unbelief always stems f r o m a p a r t i c u l a r rationalisation m a y be too ambitious, b u t some form of rationalisation must be present. T h a t is a b o u t the best t h a t can be d o n e for the R e f o r m e d philosophers' case. Ironically, E u g e n e K a m e n k a c a m e to exactly the same conclusion a b o u t F e u e r b a c h ' s , F r e u d ' s a n d M a r x ' s a t t e m p t s to show t h a t religious belief is the p r o d u c t of rationalisation. K a m e n k a argues that while their analyses m a y not be t r u e for every religious belief one considers, some analysis of this kind is, as a m a t t e r of fact, always true of every religious belief. 22 It can be seen t h a t claims relating to rationalisation are totalitarian on either side of the fence. Belief accuses unbelief a n d unbelief accuses belief of being the p r o d u c t of rationalisation. I have a r g u e d , in relation to the various a t t e m p t s to explain religion away as some form of rationalisation, t h a t the a t t e m p t s violate their own p r o c e d u r a l principles. 2 3 W e can only accuse something of being a rationalisation if the 'real' explanation we w a n t to substitute for it is not only intelligible to the people accused of being the victims of rationalisation, but is shown to be present in the details of the life a n d b e h a v i o u r of the people concerned. In a t t e m p t i n g to show how religion is a p r o d u c t of rationalisation, these f u n d a m e n t a l r e q u i r e m e n t s were violated by F e u e r b a c h , F r e u d a n d M a r x . But, within the contexts of the examples we have considered so far, it a p p e a r s t h a t R e f o r m e d epistemologists, too, are guilty of violating the s a m e f u n d a m e n t a l r e q u i r e m e n t s

for the legitimate use of the term 'rationalisation'. If we say t h a t all unbelievers are in the grip of some form of rationalisation, then, as w h e n philosophers m a k e similar claims a b o u t all believers, we do violence to the notion of rationalisation by divorcing it from the conditions a n d contexts in which it has its sense. W h y have theologians felt it so i m p o r t a n t to m a k e j u d g e m e n t s which e n c o m p a s s unbelievers? T h e a n s w e r is, surely, t h a t if we say m a n is created in G o d ' s image a n d t h a t God is sovereign, m a n , even in his unbelief, is not placed outside G o d ' s j u d g e m e n t . H e r e m a i n s a child of G o d . T h e difficulty arises w h e n talk of the imago Dei is taken to imply some kind of r e m n a n t of knowledge of G o d which survives m a n ' s separation f r o m G o d . If we say t h a t all knowledge of G o d can never be eradicated or m u s t always be present in every m a n ' s heart, we are led into the kinds of difficulties we have been discussing. T h e r e can be no d o u b t t h a t there are times w h e n Calvin speaks in a way which inherits these difficulties. Emil B r u n n e r says that Calvin, like L u t h e r , employs the notion of a remnant of the imago. ' T h e r e f o r e ' , B r u n n e r concludes, 'it is not permissible to d e p r e c a t e or a b u s e m a n . Even in his sin m a n is yet h o n o u r a b l e , since he still bears the image of G o d within him, even though it be obscured a n d " p a i n t e d over".' 2 4 T h i s r e m a r k , as we shall see, contains a n i m p o r t a n t religious t r u t h , b u t one which is distorted if we speak of the unbeliever as distorting or painting over something he already knows. In short, we need not have recourse to accusations of self-deception, in the senses discussed, in o r d e r to say t h a t men have no excuse for not believing in G o d . At times, Calvin does use such a r g u m e n t s , a r g u m e n t s which seem to allow him to reach a bold conclusion: W h e n c e we infer, t h a t this is a doctrine, not first to be learned in the schools, b u t which every m a n f r o m his birth is self-taught, a n d which, t h o u g h m a n y strain every nerve to b a n i s h it from t h e m , yet n a t u r e itself permits none to forget. 2 5 T h e r e are times w h e n Calvin argues differently. H e a p p e a l s to actual distortions, as in idolatry or false worship, to show how a w a r p e d conception of G o d can be found in men. First idolatry: 'while experience testifies that the seeds of religion are sown by G o d in every heart, we scarcely find one m a n in a h u n d r e d w h o cherishes w h a t he has received, a n d not one in w h o m they grow

to m a t u r i t y , m u c h less bear fruit in d u e season... T h e i r conceptions of him are formed, not according to the representations he gives of himself, b u t by the inventions of their own p r e s u m p t u o u s imaginations.' 2 6 Second, a false w o r s h i p in which m e n think t h a t their sins can be eradicated by expiations which are magically efficacious w i t h o u t requiring any true r e p e n t a n c e in the believer: ' T h a t seed, which it is impossible to eradicate, a sense of the existence of a Deity, yet remains; b u t so c o r r u p t e d as to p r o d u c e only the worse of fruits.' 2 7 T h e difficulty, once again, is t h a t if idol worship a n d c o r r u p t e d w o r s h i p a r e taken as evidence of the fact t h a t the seeds of religion are never eradicated in the h u m a n heart, then, as in the case of self-deception, it is clear that idol w o r s h i p a n d distortion m a y , b u t need not, necessarily, be present. In the case of the fool, in the psalm, w h o says in his h e a r t , ' T h e r e is no G o d ' , Calvin takes this to be a denial of the glory d u e to God, but not a denial of his existence. All these difficulties come into being if the notion of the imago Dei is taken to imply some kind of r e m n a n t of belief in G o d which is to be seen as evidence of the seeds of belief in G o d in all m e n . But need the notion be understood in this way? I n s t e a d of looking at it as providing evidence for religious claims, the situation is very different if we r e m i n d ourselves that the notion of the imago Dei is already a religious notion, one h a v i n g its sense within a religious perspective. Here, w h a t would be being said is t h a t the unbeliever, in his unbelief, does not cease to be a child of G o d . T h i s being so, the possibility of a n y m a n coming to G o d c a n n o t be ruled out. T h a t m u s t m e a n , however, t h a t that person m u s t be capable of being addressed by G o d . T h i s comes to saying that i f h t c a m e to G o d , it would not be by by-passing w h a t he already possesses. B r u n n e r makes the point by distinguishing between a formal sense a n d a m a t e r i a l sense of the imago Dei. T h e receptivity to G o d ' s word expressed in this formal sense is minimal, but i m p o r t a n t : ' T h i s receptivity says n o t h i n g as to his a c c e p t a n c e or rejection of the W o r d of G o d . It is the purely formal possibility of his being addressed.' 2 8 T o give the imago Dei a m a t e r i a l sense would be to say t h a t there is always a r e m n a n t of belief in all m e n . It is i m p o r t a n t to note that I a m not entering the dispute as to w h e t h e r there is always a r e m n a n t or never a r e m n a n t of G o d ' s image after the Fall, w h e r e t h a t dispute h a s to do with how the n a t u r a l world is r e g a r d e d religiously. M y point has to d o with w h a t it is for a person to be addressed by the W o r d of G o d . In some cases, the people addressed m a y be in a state of self-deception. I n others

the people m a y be idolatrous or superstitious. In other cases, the W o r d of G o d comes to a m a n as something entirely new in his life. It seems pointless to try to t u r n a n y of these possibilities into a universal thesis, a n d even more strained to a t t e m p t to m a k e all the available counter-evidence fit such a claim. K a r l B a r t h is correct to point out that B r u n n e r is not consistent either in his discussion of the imago Dei. A l t h o u g h he denies t h a t he is using the notion in any material sense, he does say such things as, ' O n l y a being t h a t can be addressed is responsible, for it alone can m a k e decisions. O n l y a being t h a t can be addressed is capable of sin. But in sinning, while being responsible, it somehow or other knows of its sin. T h i s knowledge of sin is a necessary presupposition of the u n d e r s t a n d i n g of the divine message of grace;' 2 9 a n d again: ' T h e W o r d of G o d could not reach a m a n w h o h a d lost his consciousness of G o d entirely. A m a n without conscience c a n n o t be struck by the call " R e p e n t ye a n d believe the G o s p e l . " W h a t the n a t u r a l m a n knows of G o d , of the law a n d of his own d e p e n d e n c e u p o n G o d , m a y be very confused a n d distorted. B u t even so it is the necessary, indispensable point of contact for divine grace.' 3 0 T h e s e claims inherit all the difficulties we have already discussed. Barth objected strongly to these suggestions because he w a n t e d to insist t h a t w h e n a person truly comes to G o d he comes to something new, not to something he possesses imperfectly already. H e pointed out that, even in the case of knowledge of God in n a t u r e , According to the R o m a n Catholic, reason, if left entirely without grace, is incurably sick a n d i n c a p a b l e of any serious theological activity. O n l y w h e n it h a s been illumined, or at least provisionally shone u p o n by faith, does reason serve to p r o d u c e those statements concerning G o d , m a n a n d the world, which, according to R o m a n C a t h o l i c doctrine, are not only articles of revelation b u t have to be considered as t r u t h s of reason. Neither the doctrine of grace which has come from the A u g u s t i n i a n - T h o m i s t school, nor the R o m a n Catholic doctrine of knowledge which has been b r o u g h t into accord with it, is as crudely Pelagian as some Protestant controversialists would m a k e it out to be. 31 But, now, even if B a r t h w a n t s to insist on G o d ' s revelation as something new, t h a t revelation m u s t still illuminate w h a t was in the p e r s o n ' s life prior to the revelation. T h a t is w h a t makes it a

revelation. B a r t h says that the revelation calls on a person to reject w h a t he has prior to it. Even allowing that, it m u s t cast light on those aspects of life which are rejected. I n other words, the w a r r i n g factions within the theological disputes would all have to recognise the necessity of m e d i a t i n g the sense of religious concepts. W i t h o u t such mediation, we c a n n o t show the sense the concepts have in h u m a n life; the way in which they illuminate m u s t be b r o u g h t out. As far as theology is concerned, the way the connections are m a d e can be r e g a r d e d as G o d ' s work, as the work of a God-given grace. In fact, one of the ways in which B r u n n e r considers the p r o b l e m expresses this point perfectly: T h e W o r d of G o d does not have to create m a n ' s capacity for words. H e has never lost it, it is the presupposition of his ability to hear the W o r d of G o d . But the W o r d of G o d itself creates m a n ' s ability to believe the W o r d of G o d , i.e. the ability to hear it in such a way as is only possible in faith. It is evident that the doctrine of sola gratia is not in the least e n d a n g e r e d by such a doctrine of the point of contact. 3 2 T h e points of contact are not a r b i t r a r y : conscience, n a t u r e , birth, d e a t h , relations between m e n a n d w o m e n . It is in these contexts that we would look for hints in exploring the m e a n i n g of the beliefs of any religion. It is in the contexts of these points of contact t h a t the g r a m m a r of the belief is to be explored. Like G u t t i n g , B r u n n e r too is concerned a b o u t the kind of contact which m u s t be m a d e between religious belief a n d the s u r r o u n d i n g s of h u m a n life. At times, both R e f o r m e d epistemology a n d B a r t h i a n i s m can give the impression of isolating religious belief from the life t h a t s u r r o u n d s it. O f course, in stressing contacts, the relations revealed m a y be treated as t h o u g h they were justifications. T h e y are not, they a r e elucidations. B r u n n e r is alive to the dangers: At this point there is a d a n g e r of the true principles being b e t r a y e d . As early as the second century the Apologists did this, a n d since then it has h a p p e n e d again a n d again. But the task remains. T h e fact t h a t there is a false apologetic way of m a k i n g contact does not m e a n t h a t there is not a right way. 3 3 B r u n n e r says,

What I should say to a m a n on his d e a t h - b e d is a holy m a t t e r ; b u t it is a m a t t e r no less holy how I a m to say it to him in such a way t h a t he shall u n d e r s t a n d a n d appreciate it... T o despise the question of the H o w is a sign, not of theological seriousness but of theological intellectualism. 3 4 B r u n n e r says t h a t the proofs for the existence of G o d h a v e been one of the w r o n g ways of trying to m a k e the connections. G u t t i n g is still looking for efficacious a r g u m e n t s such t h a t to follow t h e m would be to become a believer. Plantinga rightly resists the invitation to supply such a r g u m e n t s . O n the other h a n d , his negative apologetics are in d a n g e r of suffering from w h a t B r u n n e r calls 'theological intellectualism'. Yet, these m a t t e r s are all cast in an apologetic context a n d show how difficult the a p p r o p r i a t i o n , a n d how easy the m i s a p p r o p r i a t i o n , of Wittgenstein's philosophy is for theology a n d Reformed epistemology. T h e difficulty Wittgenstein's work presents is t h a t it s t a n d s outside the apologetic context. I t is difficult to appreciate this if philosophy is itself conceived to be a way of assessing religious belief pro a n d contra. T h e sense in which conceptual analysis goes beyond Plantinga's negative apologetics is not t h a t it provides a positive apologetics, b u t t h a t it e n d e a v o u r s to elucidate the kind of beliefs religious beliefs are. In doing this the issue of concept-formation in religion becomes central. H e r e is a conception of philosophy a n d epistemology which is neither for nor against religion. T o u n d e r s t a n d it is to see why a t t e m p t i n g to establish a R e f o r m e d epistemology to free us f r o m the confusions of f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m is still to r e m a i n captive to an apologetic conception of epistemology.

Notes 1. Gary Gutting, 'The Catholic and the Calvinist: a Dialogue on Faith and Reason', Faith and Philosophy, vol. 2, no. 3 (July 1985), p. 254. 2. Ibid., p. 237. 3. Ibid., p. 238. 4. Wittgenstein, Lectures and Conversations, p. 59. 5. Van Til, A Christian Theory of Knowledge, pp. 255-6. 6. Calvin, Institutes, vol. 1, pp. 51-2. 7. Van Til, A Christian Theory of Knowledge, p. 18. 8. For a discussion of this kind see I. Dilrnan and D.Z. Phillips, Sense and Delusion (Routledge and Kegan Paul, London, 1971). 9. Calvin, Institutes, vol. 1, p. 57. 10. Van Til, A Christian Theory of Knowledge, p. 13. 11. Ibid., p. 259. 12. Ibid. 13. Ibid., p. 295. 14. Ibid., p. 292. 15. Calvin, Institutes, vol. 1, pp. 52-3. 16. Van Til, A Christian Theory of Knowledge, p. 225. 17. Ibid. 18. Ibid., p. 244. 19. Plantinga, 'Reason and Belief in God', p. 66. 20. Rush Rhees, 'Wittgenstein's View of Ethics' in his Discussions of Wittgenstein (Routledge and Kegan Paul, London, 1970), p. 103. 21. Nicholas Wolterstorff, 'Is Reason Enough?' The Reformed Journal, vol. 34, no. 4 (April 1981), p. 23. 22. Eugene Kamenka, The Philosophy of Ludwig Feuerbach (Routledge and Kegan Paul, London, 1970), p. 47. 23. Phillips, Religion Without Explanation, chs. 5 and 6. 24. Emil Brunner, 'Nature and Grace' in J o h n Baillie (ed.), Natural Theology (Geoffrey Bles, The Centenary Press, London, 1946), p. 42. 25. Calvin, Institutes, vol. 1, p. 53. 26. Ibid., p. 54. 27. Ibid., p. 57. 28. Brunner, 'Nature and Grace', p. 31. 29. Ibid., p. 31. 30. Ibid., p. 32-3. 31. Karl Barth 'No!' in John Baillie (ed.), Natural Theology (Geoffrey Bles, The Centenary Press, London, 1946), p. 96. 32. Brunner, 'Nature and Grace', p. 32. 33. Ibid., p. 58. 34. Ibid.

Religious and Non-Religious Perspectives

W e have seen the difficulties which are created for the conception of a Reformed epistemology by its basic a s s u m p t i o n t h a t to do justice to the sovereignty of God a n d his inescapable reality, it is necessary to devise an all-embracing metaphysical system which s t a n d s in an explanatory relation to all other possible perspectives. Since R e f o r m e d philosophers hold t h a t no c o m m o n n e u t r a l g r o u n d exists between the believer a n d the unbeliever, b u t t h a t no j u d g e m e n t of the unbeliever is possible unless c o m m o n g r o u n d exists, they conclude that that c o m m o n g r o u n d is Christianity itself. T h e unbeliever can legitimately be seen as a religious p h e n o m e n o n since he is essentially a prodigal son i n c a p a b l e of really denying or forgetting his true h o m e . As we have seen, however, this a t t e m p t to show t h a t all non-believers are in the grip of self-deception r u n s into i n s u p e r a b l e difficulties. A n d so it m a y seem that we are c a u g h t in a hopeless philosophical tangle. O n the one h a n d , Reformed philosophers w a n t to say t h a t belief in G o d is foundational, b u t on the other h a n d , noetic structures which exclude G o d do not seem to be within the orbit of religious j u d g e m e n t . For Reformed philosophers, this admission would severely d a m a g e their claim that belief in G o d is f o u n d a t i o n a l . Of course, exactly the same d i l e m m a faces the secular rationalist or foundationalist. H e has placed a certain concept of reason at the basis of his j u d g e m e n t s . As we have seen, however, his conception of reason does not do justice to the c h a r a c t e r of religious belief. H e w a n t s to move from certain ways of thinking to the assertion t h a t there can be no other ways of thinking. In this he is at one with the Reformed epistemologist w h o seeks to do exactly the s a m e thing. Both claim t h a t if only we t h o u g h t as we o u g h t to think, we would think as they do. H e tries to u n d e r p i n the way

of thinking he is advocating with a metaphysical necessity. As we saw in the discussion of basic propositions in Wittgenstein's On Certainty, this c a n n o t be done. T o show how d e e p our ways of thinking go with us Wittgenstein presents us with a d r a m a t i c case which emphasises the fact: Is it w r o n g for me to be guided in my actions by the propositions of physics? A m I to say I have no good g r o u n d for doing so? I s n ' t precisely this w h a t we call a 'good ground'? Supposing we met people who did not regard t h a t as a telling reason. Now, how do we imagine this? I n s t e a d of the physicist, they consult an oracle. (And for t h a t we consider t h e m primitive.) Is it w r o n g for them to consult an oracle a n d be guided by it — If we call this ' w r o n g ' a r e n ' t we using our l a n g u a g e - g a m e as a base f r o m which to combat theirs? 1 As we h a v e already noted, Wittgenstein's point here is certainly not to suggest t h a t we need not rely on physics in the way we do, or t h a t we have a choice between relying on physics a n d consulting oracles. As always, his emphasis on other possibilities h a s as its aim the exposure of bogus notions of necessity w h e r e our ways of thinking are concerned. T h e postulating of the other possibilities is not m e a n t to characterise our present ways of thinking as options, b u t , on the contrary, to show how deep they go with us. T h e logical issues r e m a i n the same w h e n the possibilities envisaged a r e actually present in our world or in our society. It is interesting to observe how the actual proximity of other ways of living t e m p t us all too easily to fall back into the t r a p s of essentialism. P e r h a p s Wittgenstein's postulation of people w h o consulted oracles seemed remote e n o u g h not to be worrying, but w h e n Peter W i n c h began discussing witchcraft a n d oracles a m o n g the A z a n d e the philosophical mood soon c h a n g e d , a l t h o u g h the philosophical issues involved were exactly the same. 2 O n c e again, a s s u m p t i o n s b e c a m e entrenched a b o u t the ways in which the A z a n d e must be thinking, namely, our ways, a n d confidence w a s expressed in the irrationality of witchcraft. T h e m a i n issue escaped most c o m m e n t a t o r s . T h e question was not w h e t h e r W i n c h was correct in describing the ways of the A z a n d e , but w h e t h e r he could have been correct or w h e t h e r there is something, the ways in

which we must think, which rules out the possibility of his being correct. H o w m u c h more urgent, it m a y be t h o u g h t , is the issue concerning the relation between religious a n d non-religious perspectives. T h e s e are not possibilities invoked to m a k e a logical observation, b u t different ways of living a n d of looking at life which are actually present in our society. It may be t h o u g h t t h a t the presence of alternatives makes Wittgenstein's t r e a t m e n t of basic propositions in On Certainty of limited value in relation to them. I w a n t to argue t h a t this is not so, a n d that a c o m p a r i s o n of Wittgenstein's t r e a t m e n t of basic propositions with the basic beliefs of religion is highly instructive a n d relevant to our present concerns. 3 In discussing Wittgenstein's t r e a t m e n t of basic propositions we saw how, with regard to m a n y of t h e m , they could not be denied w i t h o u t our being cut off f r o m reason. T h i s is one difference, a n d an i m p o r t a n t one, between basic propositions such as ' T h i s is a tree', ' I was b o r n ' , ' T h e r e is a corridor outside my d o o r ' , e t c , e t c , a n d religious beliefs. T h e latter are denied. T h i s fact m a y t e m p t one back into the foundationalist c a m p , to treat religious beliefs, unlike Wittgenstein's basic propositions, as alternatives within a class of propositions whose t r u t h or falsity can be assessed by c o m m o n neutral criteria. But Wittgenstein shows t h a t religious beliefs are not of this kind. H e gives the following example: S u p p o s e someone is ill a n d he says: ' T h i s is a p u n i s h m e n t ' , a n d I say: 'If I ' m ill, I d o n ' t think of p u n i s h m e n t at all.' If you say: ' D o you believe the opposite?' — you can call it believing the opposite, b u t it is entirely different f r o m w h a t we would normally call believing the opposite. I think differently, in a different way. I say different things to myself. I have different pictures. It is this way: if someone said: 'Wittgenstein, you d o n ' t take illness as p u n i s h m e n t , so w h a t do you believe?' — I ' d say: 'I d o n ' t have any t h o u g h t s of p u n i s h m e n t . ' T h e r e are, for instance, these entirely different ways of thinking first of all — which n e e d n ' t be expressed by one person saying one thing, a n o t h e r person a n o t h e r thing. 4 O n the one h a n d , then, thinking of illness as a p u n i s h m e n t from G o d is not to be construed, as evidentialists construe it, as one explanation competing within the s a m e system with others

of the same kind. O n the other h a n d , it would be bizarre to claim, with R e f o r m e d philosophers, t h a t every time an unbeliever is ill, deep d o w n in his h e a r t he knows t h a t G o d is p u n i s h i n g him. Yet it is something basic for the believer. H e does not believe it on evidence a n d it determines how he looks on his illness or misfortune. Yet, it can be denied. I n d e e d , this way of thinking may a n d does m a k e some people very angry a n d they w a n t to put a stop to it. T h e r e are people w h o do not believe it. H o w is the relationship between one w h o believes a n d one w h o does not believe to be understood in this context? Here, we must r e m e m b e r that although Wittgenstein said the role of the basic propositions he was discussing was similar in different contexts, he was careful to point out t h a t they do not constitute a distinct class of propositions. T h e s a m e things c a n n o t be said a b o u t t h e m all. In some cases, if the familiar things you took for g r a n t e d were d o u b t e d , it would be h a r d to see how you could go on. If, for example, I found t h a t I could never be sure of where I was, I ' d say I was going insane. In other cases, changes may enable you to go on, but not in the same way as you went on before. For example, if the behaviour of seeds were not seen to be connected with their structure, this would revolutionise our conception of b o t a n y , but it w o u l d n ' t m e a n that everything would have to be given up. You would go on with different emphases, e m p h a s e s on w h a t the seeds grew into, r a t h e r t h a n on the s t r u c t u r e of the seeds. W h a t light do these considerations throw on the relation of religious beliefs to other beliefs? Is it not illuminating here, too, to point out t h a t w h e n a person comes to see a religious sense in things, he is certainly not proving a hypothesis or relying on probabilities? Neither need he be coming to recognise something he was already deceiving himself a b o u t . No, he comes to something new, s o m e t h i n g which does not stop him going on, but which nevertheless demands that he does not go on in the same way. C o m i n g to G o d is not a c h a n g e of opinion, b u t a c h a n g e of direction; a reorientation of one's whole life. U s i n g P l a n t i n g a ' s language, it would be to come to e m b r a c e a whole noetic s t r u c t u r e for the first time. O f course, a person m a y have been deceiving himself or, in his sin, fearing G o d . In B e n j a m i n Britten's opera Billy Budd, Claggart, in one of his arias, says, on seeing Billy's purity, that the light h a s shone in the darkness a n d t h a t the darkness c o m p r e h e n d s it a n d suffers. 5 T h a t possibility c a n n o t be denied, a n d in my criticisms of the notion of R e f o r m e d epistemology it

was not denied. But R e f o r m e d philosophers tried to t u r n this possibility into a necessary scheme of things, so r o b b i n g it of its point a n d obscuring other cases. After all, it m u s t be r e m e m b e r e d t h a t Britten's aria is a d e p a r t u r e f r o m the Biblical original w h e r e we are told that w h e n light shone in darkness, the darkness comprehended it not. N o question here of the darkness not c o m p r e h e n d i n g against its better knowledge. No, it simply did not c o m p r e h e n d . This is why religion has a special word to describe the way people come to God: conversion. C o m i n g to believe in G o d , then, is not to win the w a r of probabilities, or to be free of self-deception in the sense discussed. I t is to come to something new, to be shaken at the foundations, a n d to m a k e a spiritual reality basic in one's life. It m a y be t h o u g h t that this e m p h a s i s on conversion, on coming to G o d as something new, still leaves us with the issue of w h a t right the believer has to j u d g e the perspectives of unbelievers. I n d e e d , it m a y be t h o u g h t that, in these terms, the p r o b l e m becomes insuperable. But, if we think this, is it not because we are still h a n g i n g on to the a s s u m p t i o n shared by foundationalists a n d R e f o r m e d philosophers, namely, that in order for one person to j u d g e a n o t h e r there m u s t be c o m m o n g r o u n d between t h e m ? W i t h o u t this c o m m o n g r o u n d , it is t h o u g h t , moral a n d religious j u d g e m e n t s are impossible. But why should we accept this a s s u m p t i o n ? W e are, after all, a c q u a i n t e d with plenty of o r d i n a r y examples to show t h a t it is u n t e n a b l e . W e c o n d e m n a m e a n action f r o m the s t a n d p o i n t of generosity. W e c o n d e m n pride f r o m the s t a n d p o i n t of humility. W e c o n d e m n unfaithfulness f r o m the s t a n d p o i n t of faithfulness. N o one, p r e s u m a b l y , would d e n y t h a t such j u d g e m e n t s are m a d e a n d everyone can think of scores of additional examples. But w h a t does generosity have in c o m m o n with m e a n n e s s , humility have in c o m m o n with pride, faithfulness have in c o m m o n with unfaithfulness? N o t h i n g , b u t m o r a l j u d g e m e n t s are m a d e nevertheless. It would be ludicrous to suggest that there is some good better achieved by the virtues t h a n the vices, according to some c o m m o n criteria, or to suggest that inside every vicious m a n there is a virtuous m a n struggling to get out. T h e moral j u d g e m e n t s t h a t are m a d e , despite the lack of c o m m o n g r o u n d , are in terms of the virtues, not in terms of something more ultimate t h a n them. T h e same is true of religious j u d g e m e n t s . W h a t is a p p e a l e d to, namely, w h a t G o d requires of m a n , is not assessed by a n y t h i n g more u l t i m a t e t h a n itself. R e f o r m e d philosophers should be h a p p y

to agree with this because they w a n t to give belief in G o d a f o u n d a t i o n a l role a n d to deny t h a t G o d ' s sovereignty is a n s w e r a b l e to a n y t h i n g more ultimate t h a n itself. It is odd, therefore, t h a t they c a n n o t see that as long as w h a t is done is contrary to G o d ' s will, t h a t is sufficient in itself to m a k e it the object of C h r i s t i a n j u d g e m e n t . I n so far as Christianity s t a n d s in a relation of j u d g e m e n t to other perspectives, it need not think of t h e m , as M a r x or F r e u d might, as ideologies or rationalisations. W h e n M a r x i s m or F r e u d i a n i s m treats perspectives in this way, they have to say, sooner or later, t h a t the p a r t i c i p a n t s in these perspectives c a n n o t be saying or doing w h a t they think they are doing. C h r i s t i a n j u d g e m e n t carries no such implications. This is because its primary aim is not explanation, but judgement. M a r x i s m a n d F r e u d i a n i s m reject the explanations offered, because they claim to be the possessors of the real explanations. Christians, on the other h a n d , can accept as a c c u r a t e w h a t the perspectives they j u d g e say they w a n t a n d live by. That is why they are j u d g i n g them. T h e i r plans a n d aims need not be re-explained. If they are contrary to the will of G o d they are j u d g e d as sinful. W h e r e is the logical difficulty supposed to be which prevents this j u d g e m e n t being m a d e ? But, it m a y be asked, w h a t a b o u t the inescapable reality of God a n d the claim t h a t no m a n can escape his j u d g e m e n t ? O f course, a m a n m a y escape formal p u n i s h m e n t by some institution for the w r o n g he has done. Neither need he see a n y n a t u r a l disaster u n d e r the aspect of p u n i s h m e n t , or feel a n y remorse for his wrongdoing. Yet, as Plato says, the evil m a n is necessarily p u n i s h e d . W h a t this comes to is t h a t he is an object of pity. 6 Students often find it difficult to grasp this point. T h e y are t e m p t e d to say t h a t Archelaus has got a w a y with his wrongdoing. B u t is not this a vulgar notion of 'getting away with it'? O n e way in which students come to see this is in being asked which m a n is in the worse state: a m a n who feels remorse for his despicable deeds or one w h o actually delights in his depravity? T h e y h a v e no hesitation in saying t h a t the latter is in the worse state. Is that not his p u n i s h m e n t ? Surely, the s a m e applies to the inescapable j u d g e m e n t of G o d . Sometimes, believers seem to talk as if the m a n w h o does not repent of his sins, a n d w h o does not suffer a p u n i s h m e n t externally related to t h e m , can be said to have escaped G o d ' s j u d g e m e n t . But is not this, too, a vulgar conception of w h a t it is to escape f r o m G o d ' s j u d g e m e n t ? W h a t is divine j u d g e m e n t other t h a n separation f r o m God? W h a t more should any C h r i s t i a n

w a n t it to be? T o pray not to be the object of divine w r a t h is not to pray, ' G o d , d o not d o t h a t to me', b u t , r a t h e r , ' G o d , d o not let m e become that.' 7 T h i s being so, the u n r e p e n t a n t sinner, the m a n w h o actually revels a n d rejoices in evil, has not escaped G o d ' s j u d g e m e n t . O n the contrary, he is separated f r o m G o d , a n object of pity. If someone is not content with this, thinking t h a t the person has got away with it, is he not discontented with divine p u n i s h m e n t , wishing it were a c c o m p a n i e d by p u n i s h m e n t s of other kinds? W h a t we have seen is t h a t the possibility o f j u d g e m e n t of unbelievers, a possibility informed by a conception of the inescapable reality of G o d , does not entail or imply t h a t the unbelievers are sinning against a latent better knowledge they possess, or that C h r i s t i a n j u d g e m e n t s t a n d s in an e x p l a n a t o r y relation to t h e m . It m a y be t h o u g h t that, as a result of the criticisms we have noted, religious believers have to w i t h d r a w all talk of unbelievers deceiving themselves, except in those contexts in which evidence of internal tensions in the behaviour of the person j u d g e d gives w a r r a n t for such talk. But this is not so. T h i s is because there is a different context in which we talk a b o u t self-deception which is u n t o u c h e d by the criticisms we have noted. T o a p p r e c i a t e w h a t self-deception comes to in this context, let us think again of the example of the m a n w h o says t h a t a person is deceiving himself in thinking t h a t he loves a w o m a n . H e is really m a r r y i n g her for her money. H e r e , as we saw, the j u d g e m e n t c a n n o t be m a d e w i t h o u t corroborating evidence in the person's behaviour. I t was the absence of this corroborating evidence which led to difficulties in the Reformed philosophers' claim t h a t the unbeliever is always sinning against the better knowledge of G o d which he knows d e e p d o w n in his heart. But now consider the case in which someone says, 'All those years I t h o u g h t I knew w h a t love was, b u t I was deceiving myself. Now I see w h a t love really is.' T h e possibility of this j u d g e m e n t does not d e p e n d on the person showing t h a t t h r o u g h o u t the years he h a d not really w a n t e d w h a t he said he h a d w a n t e d , a n d t h a t he h a d really w a n t e d , b u t suppressed, w h a t he now recognises to be really love. T h e realisation he comes to is a realisation of something new, something in the light of which his former life is reassessed. It m a y be asked why we w a n t to speak of self-deception in this context. W h y is it not enough to say t h a t the person was mistaken in w h a t he t h o u g h t love was? T h e reference to a mistake is misleading because it m a y give the impression of a mistake m a d e

w i t h i n a n a l r e a d y existing set of values. W e m a y t h i n k a p e r s o n m a r r i e d s o m e o n e else for her m o n e y a n d find o u t w e w e r e w r o n g . B u t , here, w e find o u t we w e r e w r o n g w i t h i n a n a l r e a d y existing set of beliefs. W e d o n o t h a v e to c h a n g e o u r c o n c e p t i o n s to m a k e such a j u d g e m e n t , b e c a u s e it is in t e r m s of these c o n c e p t i o n s t h a t o u r j u d g e m e n t s a r e m a d e . B u t w h e n a p e r s o n says he h a s b e e n deceiving himself a b o u t w h a t t r u e love is, h e is n o t s i m p l y c h a n g i n g a n o p i n i o n . H e is c h a n g i n g as a p e r s o n . H e is not c h a n g i n g his m i n d w i t h i n a set of v a l u e s . H i s v a l u e s a r e c h a n g i n g . B u t w h y talk of j-eZ/^deception? W h y n o t say he w a s deceived in w h a t he t h o u g h t previously? B u t by w h o m ? T h e c o n c e p t i o n of love h e h a d previously w a s p a r t of h i m . H e s u s t a i n e d it in his o w n life. W h e n he c o m e s to a n e w u n d e r s t a n d i n g of love, therefore, he c a n say w i t h good r e a s o n , t h a t he h a s b e e n d e c e i v i n g himself. 8 T h e s a m e p o i n t c a n be a p p l i e d to t h e u n b e l i e v e r w h o c o m e s to G o d . H e r e , too, it is m i s l e a d i n g to talk of h i m c o r r e c t i n g a m i s t a k e w i t h i n a n a l r e a d y existing s y s t e m of values. T o c o m e to G o d is to c h a n g e as a p e r s o n a n d to look b a c k o n o n e ' s p r e v i o u s life as a d e c e p t i o n s u s t a i n e d by oneself — a self-deception. S p e a k i n g of the u n b e l i e v e r f r o m w i t h i n a religious p e r s p e c t i v e , the believer m a y say t h a t he is deceiving himself. W h a t w e h a v e seen is t h a t this j u d g e m e n t is possible w i t h o u t c l a i m i n g to e x p l a i n the o t h e r ' s c o n d i t i o n by r e f e r e n c e to a s u p p r e s s i o n of b e t t e r l a t e n t k n o w l e d g e . G i v i n g u p this c l a i m does n o t r o b believers of their t r a d i t i o n a l c l a i m s t h a t w h e n the u n b e l i e v e r is deceiving himself, he is still e n c o m p a s s e d by the i n e s c a p a b l e reality of G o d .

Notes 1. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, paras. 608 and 609. 2. See Winch, 'Understanding a Primitive Society'. 3. I undertook such a comparison in Religion Without Explanation, ch. 10. 4. Wittgenstein, 'Lectures on Religious Belief in Lectures and Conversations, p. 55. 5. Billy Budd, opera by Benjamin Britten, libretto by E.M. Forster and Eric Crozier, Boosey and Hawkes, London, 1951. 6. See Peter Winch, 'Ethical Reward and Punishment' in his Ethics and Action, p. 226. 7. See D.Z. Phillips, The Concept of Prayer (paperback edition, Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1981), p. 51. 8. For a more detailed discussion of the difference between these two kinds of self-deception, see Dilman and Phillips, Sense and Delusion.

Philosophy, Description and Religion

I n all the observations m a d e f r o m the outset of this essay, the descriptive task of philosophy has been e m p h a s i s e d . Philosophical description can often be confused with sociological or anthropological description, especially w h e n examples c o m m o n to all these disciplines are discussed. T h e point of the philosophical descriptive task, however, c a n n o t be a p p r e c i a t e d if its interest is t h o u g h t to be in simply pointing out t h a t there are different ways of living, a n d in emphasising that a t t e m p t i n g to force t h e m all into a u n i t a r y account is to be guilty of a condescending m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g . As we have seen, these matters are not u n i m p o r t a n t , b u t they do not get us to the h e a r t of the philosophical p r o b l e m s in which Wittgenstein was engaged in On Certainty. T h e s e f u n d a m e n t a l problems, as we have seen, are logical in character. T h e y have h a d to do with Wittgenstein's t r e a t m e n t of basic propositions, a t r e a t m e n t which does justice to their f u n d a m e n t a l character w i t h o u t falling into the pitfalls of foundationalism. For Wittgenstein, the basic propositions he discusses are not the f o u n d a t i o n s or presuppositions of the ways we think, a n d neither can the w a y s in which we think be derived or inferred from them. R a t h e r , the basic propositions are held fast by all t h a t s u r r o u n d s them. T h e y a r e not the bases on which our ways of thinking d e p e n d (foundationalism), b u t are basic in our ways of thinking. T h i s logical point is as true of religious ways of thinking as of any other. H e r e , too, the notion of G o d ' s reality is held fast in all t h a t s u r r o u n d s it; it is involved in the ways we think. As we have seen, the fact that not everyone thinks in this way is a n a d d e d factor which may t e m p t us back to thinking t h a t assenting

to religious t r u t h s is a m a t t e r of assessing the evidence for t h e m , by some m e t h o d which is given logically prior to the consideration of the context in which the religious t r u t h s are expressed. T h e role of basic propositions, these m a t t e r s which we take for g r a n t e d in the ways we think, d e t e r m i n e how it is possible to say a n y t h i n g at all, to d r a w a distinction between t r u t h a n d falsity, in the respective spheres. T o be u n a b l e to go along with them, in m a n y cases, would be to go insane. In all cases, it would be to cut oneself off f r o m the possibility of the discourse in question. T o be u n a b l e to see G o d involved in our ways of thinking is to be cut off f r o m the possibility of talking to G o d ; to be cut off f r o m G o d in one's life. T o be u n a b l e to acknowledge basic propositions is not, as we have seen, to be guilty of a mistake, b u t it is to be cut off f r o m the possibility of t r u t h or mistake. T o cut oneself off f r o m talking to G o d is not to m a k e a mistake within a system of beliefs one continues to possess after such a severance. R a t h e r it is to cut oneself off f r o m this cluster of beliefs altogether. T h e ways of thinking in which the basic propositions are held fast are not themselves f o u n d e d on a n y t h i n g more u l t i m a t e t h a n themselves. T h e y a r e groundless. W e saw how R e f o r m e d epistemology, while striving to free itself from foundationalism, could not b r i n g itself to e m b r a c e this conclusion. It claimed t h a t a l t h o u g h not d e p e n d e n t on f o u n d a t i o n s , belief in God is not groundless. In saying it is g r o u n d e d in w o r s h i p a n d religious experience, R e f o r m e d epistemology comes, on one view, extremely close to the emphasis found in On Certainty whereby we would say t h a t the existence of G o d is held fast, shows itself, in w o r s h i p a n d religious experience. But the metaphysical s u r r o u n d i n g s of R e f o r m e d epistemology revealed this similarity to be m o r e a p p a r e n t t h a n real. As we saw, a fatal tentativeness was reintroduced into R e f o r m e d epistemology, where the p r i m a r y language of religion is concerned, in an a p p e a l to prima-facie justifications which, finally, b r o u g h t it n e a r e r to f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m t h a n to w h a t Wittgenstein was trying to show. O n c e philosophy has shown the f u n d a m e n t a l roles played by basic propositions in our ways of thinking, its task is over. I n showing how talk of the possibility of being mistaken in these contexts c a n n o t get a foothold, Wittgenstein is not suggesting that our ways of thinking are optional for us. In emphasising t h a t there is no necessity u n d e r p i n n i n g our ways of thinking, t h a t o t h e r possibilities can be conceived, we have seen that Wittgenstein was not u n d e r m i n i n g our ways of thinking or suggesting t h a t they

are uncertain in any way. O n the contrary, he was stressing how n a t u r a l these ways of thinking are for us a n d how d e e p they go in our lives. T h e same conclusion is d r a w n concerning our religious ways of thinking. For some people, these go d e e p too. T h a t this should be so is something which, in philosophy's descriptive task, is noted. Philosophical m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s of basic propositions in religion, as elsewhere, are c o m b a t e d . T h a t has been my a i m in this essay. W h e t h e r one is glad or dismayed that there a r e religious ways of thinking which go d e e p with h u m a n beings is a m a t t e r which takes us beyond philosophy's descriptive task. Yet, without w i t h d r a w i n g a n y t h i n g I have said, I w a n t to raise the question of how there might be a n a t u r a l religious response to the descriptive task of philosophy which I have a t t e m p t e d to outline a n d participate in. T h e n a t u r a l religious response I have in mind m a y be b r o u g h t out if we begin by considering some r e m a r k s N o r m a n M a l c o l m m a d e in his discussion o f ' t h e groundlessness of b e l i e f . W h a t I have been calling basic propositions in this essay, in o r d e r to emphasise the difference between Wittgenstein's t r e a t m e n t of t h e m , a n d their t r e a t m e n t in R e f o r m e d epistemology, M a l c o l m calls ' f r a m e w o r k propositions': W e do not decide to accept f r a m e w o r k propositions. W e do not decide that we live on the earth, any more t h a n we decide to learn our native tongue. W e do come to a d h e r e to a f r a m e w o r k proposition, in the sense that it forms the way we think. T h e f r a m e w o r k propositions t h a t we accept, grow into, are not idiosyncrasies b u t c o m m o n ways of speaking a n d thinking that are pressed on us by our h u m a n c o m m u n i t y . For our acceptances to have been withheld would have m e a n t that we h a d not learned how to count, to m e a s u r e , to use names, to play games, or even to talk. Wittgenstein r e m a r k s t h a t 'a l a n g u a g e - g a m e is only possible if one trusts something.' N o t can, but does trust something. (O.C., 509). I think he m e a n s by this trust or acceptance w h a t he calls belief 'in the sense of religious belief (O.C., 459). W h a t does he m e a n by b e l i e f ' i n the sense of religious b e l i e f ? H e explicitly distinguishes it f r o m conjecture (Vermutung: ibid). I think this m e a n s that there is n o t h i n g tentative a b o u t it; it is not a d o p t e d as a hypothesis t h a t might later be w i t h d r a w n in the light of new evidence. T h i s also makes explicit an i m p o r t a n t feature of Wittgenstein's

u n d e r s t a n d i n g of belief, in the sense of 'religious b e l i e f , namely, t h a t it does not rise or fall on the basis of evidence or g r o u n d s : it is 'groundless'. 2 In his reply to the p a p e r , Colin Lyas criticises M a l c o l m for suggesting t h a t all groundless belief is religious belief. H e does not think this suggestion need detain us long. T o g e t h e r with the r e m a r k s we have j u s t q u o t e d , he refers to M a l c o l m ' s following comment: Wittgenstein observes t h a t it would strike him as nonsense to say, 'I know t h a t the L a w of I n d u c t i o n is true'... It would be more correct to say, 'I believe in the L a w of I n d u c t i o n . ' T h i s way of p u t t i n g it is better because it shows t h a t the a t t i t u d e t o w a r d s induction is belief in the sense o f ' r e l i g i o u s ' b e l i e f — that is to say, an a c c e p t a n c e which is not conjecture or surmise a n d for which there is no reason — it is a groundless acceptance. 3 Lyas c o m m e n t s , ' N o w if we decide to christen 'groundless acceptance' as 'religious belief then it will, of course, be true that, in this sense of the term, religious belief is groundless.'^ H e also c o m m e n t s , t h a t 'even if theistic religious belief a n d belief in the L a w of I n d u c t i o n do have a feature, groundlessness, in c o m m o n it seems to me to be stretching things to m a k e this a reason for calling a belief in the L a w of I n d u c t i o n a religious belief." It would indeed, but M a l c o l m is doing no such thing. Lyas misreads M a l c o l m . M a l c o l m is w a n t i n g to show no m o r e than Lyas says he could show, legitimately, namely, 'Religious belief a n d belief in the L a w of I n d u c t i o n h a v e a f e a t u r e in c o m m o n , namely, they are groundless.' 6 W h e n M a l c o l m speaks of the 'religious' sense of belief he is referring only to the groundless aspect of the believing in this context, not to its religious content. T h e point of doing so being, of course, as we have seen in this essay, t h a t those w h o appeal to inductive p r o c e d u r e s to criticise the groundlessness of religious belief do so without realising that, in the context in which they do so, their inductive procedures are equally groundless. That is M a l c o l m ' s point. H a v i n g m a d e t h a t point, however, is it not easy to see h o w the various groundless ways of thinking m a y themselves evoke a religious response? As we have seen, Wittgenstein evokes other 'possibilities', not in order to suggest that our ways of thinking

a r e o p t i o n a l or u n c e r t a i n . H i s w o r k , a f t e r all, is called On Certainty. H e does s h o w , h o w e v e r , t h a t o u r w a y s of a c t i n g a n d t h i n k i n g a r e n o t d e p e n d e n t o n a n y m e t a p h y s i c a l u n d e r p i n n i n g in t h e f o r m of s o m e n o t i o n of necessity. T h e a g r e e m e n t t h a t w e s h o w in o u r w a y s of a c t i n g , is a b r u t e fact. That w e d o a g r e e in the w a y w e d o is given. T h a t it is so m a y well be a n o b j e c t of w o n d e r : w o n d e r at the a g r e e m e n t w h i c h m a k e s possible o u r talk of colours; w o n d e r a t the a g r e e m e n t in o u r r e a c t i o n s to s o u n d s w i t h o u t w h i c h w h a t w e call m u s i c w o u l d be i m p o s s i b l e ; a n d so o n a n d so on. I d o not say t h a t a n y of this n e e d be the c a u s e of w o n d e r , only t h a t it may be. I t m a y well be said t h a t W i t t g e n s t e i n is a p h i l o s o p h e r w h o m a k e s us see the w o n d e r f u l n e s s of the o r d i n a r y , t h e w o n d e r f u l n e s s of w h a t is given. If this w o n d e r takes a religious f o r m , it is n o t difficult to see h o w these gifts of n a t u r e c a n be seen as gifts of g r a c e — a g r a c e of n a t u r e , o n e m i g h t say. But, s o m e o n e m i g h t o b j e c t , a r e n ' t religious possibilities given too; d o e s n ' t it follow f r o m w h a t h a s been said t h a t the existence of religious m o d e s of t h o u g h t too a r e n o t g u a r a n t e e d by a n y k i n d of necessity? T h a t is correct. B u t , t h e n , w h y s h o u l d w e a s s u m e t h a t t h e r e is a n y necessity in o u r c o m i n g to G o d ? Is not t h a t possibility, too, a gift of grace?

Notes 1. For a comparison and contrast of the ways in which 'There are material objects' and 'There is a God' are held fast in all that surrounds them see Phillips, Religion Without Explanation, ch.10. 2. Norman Malcolm, 'The Groundlessness of Belief in S. Brown (ed.) Reason and Religion (Cornell University Press, Ithaca, New York, 1977), pp. 147-8. This passage is unchanged in Malcolm's revised paper, of the same title, in his Thought and Knowledge (Cornell University Press, Ithaca, New York, 1977), see pp. 203-4. 3. I b i d , pp. 152-3. 4. Colin Lyas, 'The Groundlessness of Religious Belief in Brown, Reason and Religion, p. 164. 5. I b i d , p. 165. 6. Ibid.

Part Two Manners Without G r a m m a r A n y t h i n g your reader can do for himself leave to him. Wittgenstein, Culture and Value

10 The Hermeneutic Option

W e concluded the first p a r t of the book by coming to see w h a t is involved in saying t h a t our epistemic practices a r e not u n d e r p i n n e d by any kind of metaphysical necessity. W e saw t h a t this does not entail t h a t the practitioners of these practices are in a state of d o u b t as to w h e t h e r the practice corresponds to reality. T h a t notion of d o u b t is as metaphysical as the f o u n d a t i o n s the practices were t h o u g h t to need. T o be delivered f r o m these metaphysical preconceptions is to be free of s t u m b l i n g blocks which obscure f r o m us the way things really are. O u r task has been the one described by Wittgenstein as e n d e a v o u r i n g to bring words back from their metaphysical to their ordinary use. But the task is not an easy one, because the recovery of the o r d i n a r y can only be achieved by retracing all the steps which t e m p t e d us to forsake it in the first place. W e have seen how f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m in epistemology distorts our o r d i n a r y everyday u n d e r s t a n d i n g of our s u r r o u n d i n g s . It claims to have in its possession a concept of reason which can assess the rationality or irrationality of our epistemic practices. According to reason, so conceived, we can determine, it is said, which propositions can be properly f o u n d a t i o n a l in a n y practice. Belief in God cannot be a m o n g f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions in any practice; it is based on evidence, which m a y or m a y not be sufficient to sustain the belief. W h a t has been a r g u e d against such a view, however, is that basic propositions in a n epistemic practice are not the f o u n d a t i o n s or presuppositions of the practice. O n the contrary, the basic propositions a r e held fast by all t h a t s u r r o u n d s t h e m in the practice; they a r e involved in the ways in which we think. T h i s applies to belief in G o d which is basic within a religious practice. T h a t practice does not s t a n d in need of the kind of

justification foundationalism insists m u s t be provided. W h e r e do we turn to after foundationalism? This is a d a n g e r o u s m o m e n t for philosophers, d a n g e r o u s because, in overthrowing one theory, they a s s u m e it m u s t be because they have a better one to p u t in its place. O n c e again, as one metaphysical system succeeds the other, we lose sight of our surroundings. T h i s is w h a t h a p p e n s in R e f o r m e d epistemology where justification by reason is replaced by justification by faith. T h e Reformed epistemologist argues t h a t the foundationalist can p r o d u c e no satisfactory criterion for the p r o p e r basicality of propositions. T h a t being so, he is no position to say that only self-evident propositions a n d the incorrigible propositions of sense experience are properly basic, a n d that belief in G o d is not. Of course, the Reformed epistemologist can p r o d u c e no satisfactory criterion either, but, at least, he has as m u c h right to m a k e belief in G o d f o u n d a t i o n a l as others have in the case of their f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions. W e believe t h a t our f o u n d a t i o n a l propositions, including beliefin G o d , are properly basic, but we c a n n o t know this. W e justify our epistemic practices by faith. W e believe t h a t they correspond to reality, b u t it is possible that they could all be mistaken. It c a n n o t be denied that people have d o u b t s a b o u t their faith or t h a t people lose their faith, but these d o u b t s are not the metaphysical d o u b t s of R e f o r m e d epistemology. I n substituting faith for reason, the Reformed epistemologist h a n k e r s after the s a m e metaphysical justification as the foundationalist. H e simply says it is unavailable for us, a n d t h a t we m u s t have faith in its availability in G o d . O n c e again, however, o r d i n a r y trust in G o d has been transformed into a metaphysical trust. T r u s t in G o d , w h a t t h a t comes to, is shown by all that s u r r o u n d s it in the lives of h u m a n beings. T h e reality of G o d is not far off for the believer. O n the contrary, if his belief is strong, it is that in which he lives a n d moves a n d has his being. O n c e again, therefore, after foundationalism, we should not be t e m p t e d by the metaphysical theories of Reformed epistemology. W e need to p u t all such theories aside. A t this point, f u r t h e r , a n d , p e r h a p s , m o r e subtle, d a n g e r s await us. T h e call to p u t aside metaphysical theories h a s been the m o t t o of a n o t h e r c o n t e m p o r a r y challenge to foundationalism. I refer to hermeneutics. After foundationalism, according to R i c h a r d Rorty in his book Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature, there is only one direction in which we can go: hermeneutics. W e m a y be t e m p t e d by the h e r m e n e u t i c a l t u r n because it shares,

with our a r g u m e n t , the attack on foundationalism. It was because of the claims for reason as the a d j u d i c a t o r of epistemic practices t h a t epistemology, in the eighteenth century, enjoyed the s t a t u s of a f o u n d a t i o n a l discipline. By the nineteenth century, philosophy h a d b e c o m e a substitute for religion for m a n : ' I t was the area of culture w h e r e one touched b o t t o m , w h e r e one found the v o c a b u l a r y a n d the convictions which p e r m i t t e d one to explain a n d justify one's activity as an intellectual, a n d thus to discover the significance of one's life.' 1 W i t h the growth of science, however, philosophy ceased to be regarded as the custodian of rationality or as the m a j o r g u a r d i a n against superstition. By the early twentieth century, the scientist, with the increasing specialisation in the various b r a n c h e s of his discipline, h a d become as culturally r e m o t e as the philosopher. As for philosophy, Rorty tells us, it was simply shrugged off by those seeking an ideology or a selfimage. Rorty does not regret the decline of epistemology as a f o u n d a t i o n a l discipline. Its s t a t u s as such d e p e n d e d on metaphysical pretension. T o be rid of it, Rorty says, is to be rid of a world well lost. But w h a t world does Rorty leave us with? As we shall see, in ridding us of a metaphysical world, he robs us of m u c h of our o r d i n a r y world at the s a m e time. W h e n Wittgenstein said, ' W h a t we do is to b r i n g words back f r o m their metaphysical use to their o r d i n a r y use', 2 the o r d i n a r y use obviously r e m a i n s u n t a m p e r e d with. It does not c h a n g e as a result of the attack on metaphysics. O n the contrary, it plays a vital role in t h a t attack. But with R o r t y ' s strategies things a r e different. W h e n he criticises metaphysics, he offers something else in its place. H e is not content with clarity a b o u t the ordinary; instead, he preaches a new gospel, the gospel of hermeneutics. T o illustrate this fact, let us r e m i n d ourselves of some o r d i n a r y , b u t central, religious convictions. A religious believer m a y claim, with certainty, to be in c o m m u n i o n with a divine reality. H e does not regard t h a t reality as an optional set of descriptions; as one option a m o n g m a n y . O n the contrary, for him, the divine reality in which he believes constitutes a n eternal s t a n d a r d . T h e believer m a y not think he is u n d e r any obligation to reach a g r e e m e n t with religious or non-religious perspectives which are other t h a n his own. W i t h some he m a y be ready to converse, b u t he m a y w a n t to have n o t h i n g to d o with others. H e believes that G o d h a s m a d e him into a new being a n d t h a t his task is to deepen his acknowledgement of this.

It has to be a d m i t t e d that in talking a b o u t these m a t t e r s , a philosopher m a y misleadingly t r a n s f o r m t h e m into metaphysical theories or systems. But if these t r a n s f o r m a t i o n s are avoided, the religious concepts are once again allowed to be themselves. R o r t y ' s invitation to hermeneutics also invites us to eschew metaphysics, but, as we shall see, it does not allow religious concepts to be themselves. O n the contrary, according to Rorty, h e r m e n e u t i c a l insights enable us to see that we are never in contact with a n y t h i n g other t h a n h u m a n realities. F u r t h e r , our certainty with respect to t h e m is always a m a t t e r of consensus opinion. T h e realities we meet are sets of descriptions which are optional for us. N o n e of t h e m merit being called an eternal s t a n d a r d . O n the contrary, new descriptions, deviant discourses, are always being presented to us in the culture. O u r endeavours, it is said, should be directed towards bringing a b o u t an a g r e e m e n t between n o r m a l discourse a n d a b n o r m a l discourse, b u t an a g r e e m e n t which is always openended in the consideration of f u r t h e r possibilities. In these endeavours, the virtue of u n d e r s t a n d i n g is born, a n d therein is the possibility of our becoming new beings. W e can see, even from this s u m m a r y , that hermeneutics has pretensions of its own. It is interesting to note t h a t w h e n Rorty referred to the status epistemology enjoyed in the eighteenth century as a f o u n d a t i o n a l discipline, he also t h o u g h t that this status enabled it to m a k e the lives of its intellectual a d h e r e n t s significant. T h u s philosophy provided a m e a n i n g for their lives, a n d became, he claims, in the nineteenth century, a substitute for religion. W h e n philosophy in the twentieth century b e c a m e peripheral, according to Rorty, those looking for an ideology or self-image simply shrugged it o f f a s a n irrelevance. Now, of course, Rorty does not regret epistemology's loss of status. Neither does he think it can have the d o m i n a n t voice in the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation with different aspects of the culture. Nevertheless, at no time does he sever the link between philosophical enquiry a n d searches for the m e a n i n g of life, an ideology or a self-image. O n the contrary, as we have seen, engaging in hermeneutics is m e a n t to be the p a t h to virtue. T h e r e is the possibility of the enquirer becoming a new being. It a p p e a r s , then, t h a t as with philosophy in the nineteenth century, hermeneutics in the twentieth century is offered as a substitute for religion. Rorty is not p r e p a r e d to settle for philosophy's modest, b u t i m p o r t a n t task: the striving for clarity. W h y is it so difficult to disentangle the h i d d e n p r o g r a m m e in

R o r t y ' s hermeneutics from his often acute criticisms of epistemological foundationalism? M u c h of the answer lies in the fact that he does recognise the moves by which epistemology overreaches itself. C o n c e n t r a t i n g on these, the h i d d e n a g e n d a m a y slip by us unnoticed. Yet, not to notice it, as we shall see, is to allow hermeneutics, in its t u r n , to overreach itself. In the first p a r t of the book, we saw that one of the ways in which epistemology overreaches itself is in thinking that the grammars of the various forms of discourse we engage in a r e themselves descriptions of, or hypotheses a b o u t , a reality which is i n d e p e n d e n t of t h e m all. Sceptical worries then take the form of worries a b o u t w h e t h e r the l a n g u a g e within which claims of t r u t h a n d falsity are m a d e itself makes a n y contact with reality. As we saw, the epistemological foundationalist claims to m a k e t h a t contact secure in certain i n d u b i t a b l e propositions, on the basis of which he thinks we can build our epistemic practices with confidence. But, as we have a r g u e d , our practices are not based on these propositions, since it is only within our practices t h a t the propositions enjoy their status. T h e R e f o r m e d epistemologist h a s faith t h a t our practices refer to reality, a n d , by so doing, misses the references to reality m a d e within them. In both cases, justifications are sought for the epistemic practices themselves. As Peter W i n c h has said, the sceptical difficulties do not concern d o u b t s a b o u t w h e t h e r someone is right on a p a r t i c u l a r occasion in the claim a b o u t how m u c h time has passed, w h a t caused such a n d such an event, w h a t kind of object he is perceiving. T h e y concern r a t h e r the possibility of m a k i n g any such claims; they tend to u n d e r m i n e confidence in there being any genuine distinction between t r u t h a n d falsity in such j u d g e m e n t s ; they attack, that is, the possibility of m a k i n g any sense of t h e m at all. 3 W i n c h points out, M u c h of the difficulty in all these cases springs f r o m the fact t h a t the forms in which we think seem, on a certain sort of examination, to suggest a kind of application to the world which is not the application they in fact have. W h e n we do, in the course of our lives, apply t h e m in the a p p r o p r i a t e way, the sceptical worries strike us, in H u m e ' s

phrase, as ' s t r a i n ' d a n d ridiculous', b u t the worries are not laid to rest until we have succeeded in the surprisingly difficult tasks of attaining a clear view of the actual application of our ways of thinking a n d of the n a t u r e of the obstacles which stood in the way of our taking p r o p e r stock of these. 4 Rorty, in his reactions to foundationalist a t t e m p t s to a n s w e r scepticism, seems to share W i n c h ' s views. H e , too, w a n t s to expose the a t t e m p t to provide epistemic justifications beyond the point where it makes sense to d o so. ' F o r epistemology is the a t t e m p t to see the p a t t e r n s of justification within n o r m a l discourse as more t h a n j u s t such p a t t e r n s . It is the a t t e m p t to see t h e m as hooked on to something which d e m a n d s m o r a l c o m m i t m e n t - Reality, T r u t h , Objectivity, Reason.' 5 In opposition to requests to provide the justificatory links between the l a n g u a g e - g a m e s we play a n d the elements of a reality of which they are taken to be descriptions, Rorty insists 'if we u n d e r s t a n d the rules of a language-game, we u n d e r s t a n d all there is to u n d e r s t a n d a b o u t w h y moves in the l a n g u a g e - g a m e are m a d e . ' 6 W e have no conception of reality in abstraction, to which our epistemic practices m u s t conform. ' O u r choice of elements will be dictated by o u r u n d e r s t a n d i n g of the practice, r a t h e r t h a n the practice's being " l e g i t i m a t e d " by a c o m m o n g r o u n d . ' 7 W i n c h , too, w a n t s to u n d e r m i n e the seductive idea we have encountered, namely, ' t h a t the g r a m m a r of our language is itself the expression of a set of beliefs or theories a b o u t how the world is, which m i g h t in principle be justified or refuted by a n e x a m i n a t i o n of how the world actually is.' 8 So far so good, but does R o r t y leave our l a n g u a g e - g a m e s as they are? In case it be t h o u g h t t h a t one's objections to Rorty's analysis apply only to its consequences for religious belief, it is as well to look at w h a t seems to be an extremely straightforward example: our descriptions of a physical object. T h i s example is not an a r b i t r a r y one, since it concerns a thinker to w h o m Rorty pays considerable attention, namely, J o h n Locke. Locke's worries a b o u t our descriptions of physical objects reflect the sceptical worries to which W i n c h called our attention. In dispelling these worries, Rorty concludes that we see that we are never confronted by a n o n - h u m a n reality. In this conclusion, Rorty takes f r o m us, not only the pretensions of metaphysics, a world well lost, but also features of our ordinary world at the same time. Let us see how this comes a b o u t , since if this h a p p e n s even in this case, how

m u c h more likely is it to h a p p e n in the case of religious language, where there are additional t e m p t a t i o n s to speak of a world which our l a n g u a g e can never reach. W e m a y play a g a m e in which we are asked to guess w h a t object is being referred to by a set of descriptions we a r e given. Sometimes we a n s w e r correctly a n d sometimes we a n s w e r incorrectly. But this worry a b o u t w h e t h e r we have given the correct answer is not Locke's worry. His worry is not over w h e t h e r , on a specific occasion, our descriptions are correct. Locke's worry is a b o u t how we can ever know w h e t h e r our descriptions are correct. I n order to know w h e t h e r they are correct, we need to know w h a t they are descriptions of, a n d how can we ever know that? O n e way of p u t t i n g the m a t t e r , which we find in Rorty, is to ask how we can know w h e t h e r our ideas m i r r o r n a t u r e . W h a t if there is no connection between our ideas of how things are, a n d the things themselves? If we are given sets of descriptions, a n d are asked to say w h a t they are descriptions of, we m i g h t say that they are descriptions of tables, chairs, etc. T h e r e seems to be no difficulty a b o u t distinguishing between the offered descriptions, a n d those things, tables a n d chairs, which they m a y or m a y not be descriptions of. But this answer would not satisfy Locke at all. H e points out t h a t we do have ideas in our experience t h a t are correctly identified as ideas of things like tables a n d chairs: I a p p e a l to everyone's experience. It is the ordinary qualities observable in iron, or a d i a m o n d , p u t together, t h a t m a k e the true complex idea of those substances, which a smith or a jeweller c o m m o n l y knows better t h a n a philosopher; who, w h a t e v e r substantial forms he m a y talk of, has no other idea of those substances t h a n w h a t is f r a m e d by a collection of those simple ideas which we found in them. 9 So far, then, we do not need philosophers to s u p p l e m e n t the knowledge which smiths possess a b o u t iron, jewellers possess a b o u t d i a m o n d s , a n d we possess a b o u t table a n d chairs. But this knowledge does not silence our sceptical worries, for w h e t h e r we have ideas of secondary qualities such as colour, h a r d n e s s , e t c , or w h e t h e r we have ideas of p r i m a r y qualities, such as extension, figure or solidity, the question r e m a i n s of w h a t any of these ideas, these qualities, are ideas or qualities of What they are ideas or qualities of, is not itself given in experience, but it seems to Locke

to be necessarily suggested or implied by our experience. H a v i n g noted t h a t we do meet ideas of tables a n d chairs in our experience a n d ideas of the qualities they are composed of, Locke goes on to say that all these ideas imply a Something to which they belong, a n d in which they subsist; a n d therefore w h e n we speak of any sort of substance, we say it is a thing having such or such qualities: a body is a thing t h a t is extended, figured, a n d capable of motion; a spirit is a thing capable of thinking; a n d so hardness, friability, a n d p o w e r to d r a w iron, we say, are qualities in a loadstone. These, a n d the like fashions of speaking, intimate t h a t the substance is supposed always something besides the extension, figure, solidity, motion, thinking, or other observable ideas, t h o u g h we know not w h a t it is. 10 It is not h a r d to detect the scepticism implicit in Locke's position, for if all we ever experience are ideas, or sets of descriptions, how are we ever going to know w h a t they are ideas or descriptions of? H o w are we to deal with the p r o b l e m ? T h e r e are times w h e n Locke's own language encourages us to think t h a t the p r o b l e m we are discussing is an empirical one. T h i s is never more so t h a n w h e n Locke distinguishes between n o m i n a l essences a n d the real essence of things. H e says, T h i s , t h o u g h it be all the essence of n a t u r a l substances t h a t we know, or by which we distinguish t h e m into sorts, yet I call it by a peculiar n a m e , the nominal essence, to distinguish it f r o m t h a t real constitution of substances, u p o n which d e p e n d s this n o m i n a l essence, a n d all the properties of t h a t sort; which, therefore, as has been said, m a y be called the real essence.11 But a l t h o u g h we have knowledge of n o m i n a l essences, we do not have knowledge of their real essence: O u r faculties carry us no f u r t h e r t o w a r d s the knowledge a n d distinction of substances t h a n a collection of those sensible ideas which we observe in them; which, however m a d e with the greatest diligence a n d exactness we are capable of, yet is m o r e r e m o t e f r o m the true intenal constitution f r o m which those qualities flow, t h a n , as I said,

a c o u n t r y m a n ' s idea is f r o m the i n w a r d contrivance of t h a t f a m o u s clock at Strasbourg, whereof he only sees the o u t w a r d figure a n d motions. 1 2 O n the basis of this analogy, Locke would a p p e a r to be a d v o c a t i n g no m o r e t h a n c o m m e n d a b l e caution. I n the case of the clock, we have a distinction between how the clock a p p e a r s to be a n d how the clock really is. T h e c o u n t r y m a n could come to knowledge of the inner constitution of the clock. It would a p p e a r , on this analogy, t h a t the e n q u i r e r could come to a knowledge of the real essence of things. E n q u i r y progresses f r o m our a c q u a i n t a n c e with n o m i n a l essences to an investigation of greater empirical analysis. T h i s impression is reinforced w h e n Locke makes r e m a r k s such as the following: Blood, to the naked eye, a p p e a r s all red, b u t by a good microscope, wherein its lesser p a r t s a p p e a r , shows only some globules of red, s w i m m i n g in a pellucid liquor, a n d how these red globules would a p p e a r , if glasses could be found t h a t yet could magnify t h e m a t h o u s a n d or ten t h o u s a n d times more, is uncertain. 1 3 For reasons such as these, J o n a t h a n Bennett suggests t h a t we ought to distinguish between Locke's general conception of s u b s t a n c e a n d his notion of real essence. H e suggests that the latter notion is a regulative idea, representing a c o m m e n d a b l e caution a b o u t our knowledge of the n a t u r a l world at any p a r t i c u l a r time. C a u t i o n a b o u t the real essence indicates no more t h a n the ' o p e n ' character of our conclusions, our readiness to revise our conclusions in the light of f u r t h e r investigations. T h u s , B e n n e t t concludes, ' W i t h characteristic intelligence, insight a n d humility, Locke took every possible chance...to stress the g a p between the intellectual control which we do impose on the world a n d the science-plus-conceptual-scheme which we might find a p p r o p r i a t e if we "cured our ignorance".' 1 4 T h u s , Bennett concludes t h a t in this context, in his discussion of real essences, Locke is not a r g u i n g that knowledge is, in principle, impossible. ' W h a t he says is not that real essences are in principle u n k n o w a b l e , b u t only t h a t there are reasons for suspecting that full knowledge of t h e m would require scientific inquiries of a d e p t h a n d scope that lie beyond our capacities.' 1 5 T h e r e are reasons, however, for resisting Bennett's distinction

between Locke's conception of real essence a n d the general idea of substance. Bennett argues that knowledge of real essence should be u n d e r s t o o d in the context of our readiness to revise our scientific findings. T h i s being so, there would have to be a logical continuity between the use of the concept of real essence a n d w h a t we m e a n by the use of our faculties in scientific enquiry. T o say t h a t knowledge of the real essence is beyond our present capacities m u s t m e a n , in this context, 'beyond our present capacities'. W e can be cured of our ignorance in successive instances. But is this how we find Locke talking? H a v i n g said w h a t he m e a n s by the n o m i n a l essence of ' m a n ' , he goes on to contrast it with w h a t might be m e a n t by the real essence of m a n . T h e f o u n d a t i o n of all those qualities which are the ingredients of our complex idea is something quite different, a n d h a d we such a knowledge of t h a t constitution of m a n , from which his faculties of moving, sensation, a n d reasoning, a n d other powers flow, a n d on which his so regular s h a p e d e p e n d s , as it is possible angels have, a n d it is certain his M a k e r has, we should have quite other ideas of his essence t h a n w h a t now is contained in our definition of t h a t species, be it w h a t it will. 16 I t is clear t h a t w h a t Locke has in mind is a distinction between h u m a n knowledge at any p a r t i c u l a r time a n d a knowledge which lies beyond h u m a n a t t a i n m e n t . T h e r e is no continuity between these kinds of knowledge, as there would be if all Locke were talking a b o u t were the developments within a scientific discipline a n d the essential readiness to be open to f u r t h e r developments. T o see w h a t is involved in Locke's concept of substance, we have to a p p r e c i a t e t h a t he is concerned, as m a n y philosophers have been, with the question of the limits of h u m a n knowledge, the question of w h a t can be known. T h e s e limits are misunderstood if they are taken to refer to the limitations of w h a t we know at any p a r t i c u l a r time. Philosophers, including Locke, have not always been careful to distinguish between the different contexts in which they have spoken of w h a t can be known. It is t h a t fact which gives Bennett's r e a d i n g its plausibility. W h e n we look inside the clock at Strasbourg, we come to the inner workings of the clock. W h e n we look t h r o u g h the microscope, we are getting closer to an appreciation of w h a t blood really is. Yet, even in these contexts, we m u s t be careful not to a s s u m e t h a t knowledge sought

in one context is more f u n d a m e n t a l a n d a necessary corrective to w h a t is said in other contexts. For example, from w h a t the microscope shows us a b o u t blood, it does not follow t h a t we are incorrect w h e n we say t h a t blood is red. O u r interests in the different contexts d e t e r m i n e w h a t we m e a n by m o r e or less f u n d a m e n t a l knowledge. In the s a m e way, if our interest is in the aesthetic a p p e a r a n c e of a clock, knowledge of its inner workings m a y be held to be relatively u n i m p o r t a n t . B u t w h e n Locke speaks of the limits of w h a t can be k n o w n , no discovery, w h e t h e r it be arrived at by looking t h r o u g h a microscope or by opening a clock, could constitute, for Locke, knowledge of the real n a t u r e of things. W e find, as B e n n e t t agrees, t h a t Locke's general notion of s u b s t a n c e does not allow t h a t s u b s t a n c e to have a n a t u r e . If we begin with an object such as a coloured table, it is noted that the table m a y lose its colour. It is concluded that, therefore, the colour is not an essential p a r t of the table — an o d d conclusion in itself. T h e colour only belongs to the a p p e a r a n c e of the table, it is said, a n d not to its inner n a t u r e . Colour only belongs to the surface of things. W h a t we w a n t is to p e n e t r a t e below the surface to the thing itself. But w h a t is this thing? Is the smoothness or solidity of the table p a r t of its real n a t u r e ? As we use m o r e scientific i n s t r u m e n t s , we m a y begin to d o u b t this. For w h a t e v e r we mention can be said to be a p r o p e r t y of something, the s o m e t h i n g which, no m a t t e r how m a n y properties we n a m e , we never seem to arrive at. I n this way of speaking, the fascination with the s u b j e c t predicate proposition a n d form of speech plays a d o m i n a n t role. If a n y t h i n g we mention with respect to an object is t h o u g h t of as a property of the object, it looks as if we should have a conception of the object a p a r t from all its properties. W h e n we say of s o m e t h i n g t h a t it has a certain colour, it has a certain shape, it is solid, it has a certain smell, it has a certain weight, e t c , e t c , we m a y become puzzled a b o u t w h a t this it we keep referring to really is. It seems t h a t it ought to be an extra item alongside all the properties we have m e n t i o n e d , one which underlies t h e m in some way or other. Yet, a l t h o u g h this it m u s t be there, it seems we can have no knowledge of it. No a m o u n t of revision of our empirical conclusions brings us any nearer to this knowledge. As Locke puts it, 'I a m a p t to d o u b t that, how far soever h u m a n industry m a y a d v a n c e useful a n d experimental philosophy in physical things, scientifical will still be out of reach, because we w a n t perfect a n d a d e q u a t e ideas of those very bodies which are

nearest to us, a n d most u n d e r our c o m m a n d . ' 1 7 So it is not a m a t t e r of w o n d e r i n g w h e t h e r we will ever solve some scientific p r o b l e m which is proving particularly resistant to our enquiries. Even in relation to the table we sit at, the chair we sit on, Locke is saying t h a t we only have knowledge of n o m i n a l essences. W e can never know w h a t the thing in itself is, the it which is a table or a chair. Yet, he is convinced of the reality of this it, the it to which the properties belong a n d to which our descriptions refer. ' T h e idea t h a t we have, to which we give the general n a m e " s u b s t a n c e " , being nothing b u t the s u p p o s e d , b u t u n k n o w n , s u p p o r t of those qualities we find existing, which we imagine c a n n o t subsist sine re substante, w i t h o u t something to s u p p o r t t h e m , we call t h a t s u p p o r t substantia-, which, according to the true i m p o r t of the word, is, in plain English, s t a n d i n g u n d e r or upholding.' 1 8 H e r e we can see the influence of the s u b j e c t - p r e d i c a t e form at work; the way it can lead us to conclude, as it did Locke, ' t h a t the s u b s t a n c e is supposed always something besides the extension, figure, solidity, motion, thinking, or other observable ideas, t h o u g h we know not w h a t it is.' 1 9 If we are u n d e r the influence of this way of thinking we are likely to think of the p r o b l e m facing philosophy in the way Wittgenstein describes: 'For they see in the essence, not something t h a t already lies open to view a n d t h a t becomes surveyable by a r e a r r a n g e m e n t , b u t something t h a t lies beneath the surface. S o m e t h i n g t h a t lies within, which we see w h e n we look into the thing, a n d which an analysis digs out.' 2 0 T h e ' r e a r r a n g e m e n t ' necessary in Locke's talk of s u b s t a n c e is the w a y in which we need to be b r o u g h t to see t h a t w h a t we m e a n by a 'thing' is not a n element which s t a n d s a p a r t f r o m everything we can say a b o u t it. W e talk as if all we ever have are descriptions which a p p r o x i m a t e to, but never exhaust, the n a t u r e of the thing they are supposed to be descriptions of. W e forget t h a t we are already a c q u a i n t e d with the distinction between a d e q u a t e a n d i n a d e q u a t e descriptions of, say, a table. T h e table, in this context, is not a further set of descriptions, descriptions of something we can never know. Looking back at our discussion we can, using R o r t y ' s language, say t h a t in it there is a world well lost, namely, the world of the metaphysical conception of a thing which can never really be known. I n losing this world, Wittgenstein's point is t h a t we are freed f r o m confusions a b o u t our o r d i n a r y world. In losing the metaphysical thing, of which 'table' was supposed to be predicated, we gain in clarity with respect to the o r d i n a r y table

of our everyday s u r r o u n d i n g s . But w h e n we turn to Rorty's own conclusion, do we find t h a t he leaves us with our o r d i n a r y conception of a table? O n the contrary, Rorty concludes, ' O u r certainty will be a m a t t e r of conversation between persons, r a t h e r than a m a t t e r of interaction with n o n h u m a n reality.' 2 1 W h a t does this conclusion a m o u n t to? Is Rorty simply saying that the nonh u m a n reality is Locke's metaphysical conception of substance? It would a p p e a r not, since Rorty presents us with the following choice w h e n it comes to talking of o u r knowledge of o r d i n a r y things: 'we can think of knowledge as a relation to propositions, a n d thus of justification as a relation between the propositions in question a n d other propositions f r o m which the former m a y be inferred. O r we m a y think of both knowledge a n d justification as privileged relations to the objects those propositions are about.' 2 2 It is clear that Rorty favours the first way of talking a b o u t our knowledge of things. But w h a t if we do? Rorty replies, If we think in the first way, we will see no need to end the potentially infinite regress of propositions-brought-forwardin defence-of-other propositions. It would be foolish to keep conversation on the subject going once everyone, or the majority, or the wise, are satisfied, b u t of course we can. If we think of knowledge in the second way, we will w a n t to get b e h i n d reason to causes, beyond a r g u m e n t to compulsion from the object known, to a situation in which a r g u m e n t would be not j u s t silly b u t impossible, for a n y o n e gripped by the object in the required way will be unable to d o u b t or to see an alternative. T o reach that point is to reach the f o u n d a t i o n s of knowledge. 2 3 W h a t if we try to apply R o r t y ' s analysis to our o r d i n a r y talk of tables a n d chairs? T h i s talk should not be considered in terms of propositions or objects considered in abstraction or in isolation. Wittgenstein emphasises, ' C h i l d r e n do not learn t h a t books exist, that a r m c h a i r s exist, e t c , e t c , — they learn to fetch books, sit in a r m c h a i r s etc. etc.' 2 4 Of course, in certain circumstances, d o u b t s m a y be expressed a b o u t the existence of such objects. B u t in the circumstances Wittgenstein describes, are we faced with a potentially infinite series of justifications? Obviously not, since the question of the existence of the books a n d a r m c h a i r s does not even arise. C o n t r a r y to R o r t y ' s suggestion, requests for justifications would not simply be silly, they would be

unintelligible. Also, contrary to Rorty, the impossibility of d o u b t , in these circumstances, does not c o m m i t one to any kind of foundationalism. Wittgenstein asks, ' C a n I d o u b t at will?'25 But w h a t makes d o u b t impossible, is not t h a t we are somehow gripped by the object in isolation, but the circumstances in which we fetch books a n d sit in a r m c h a i r s . W e can see no alternative. T h e objects are not the d e t e r m i n a n t s or f o u n d a t i o n s of our certainty. O u r certainty gets its sense f r o m the circumstances which pertain within the epistemic practice. Rorty seems close to such a view when he says ' W e will say with Q u i n e t h a t knowledge is not like an architectonic s t r u c t u r e but like a field of force', b u t he a d d s , ' a n d t h a t there are no assertions which are i m m u n e from revision'. 2 6 But is this addition intelligible? In certain circumstances there would be no question of revising the fact t h a t we were fetching books or sitting on a r m c h a i r s . If we saw someone constantly checking t h a t he was holding a book or sitting in an a r m c h a i r , we would not say t h a t he was m a k i n g sure of these facts, but t h a t he was u n b a l a n c e d . W h a t he would need would not be correction, b u t cure. W h a t does Rorty m e a n w h e n he says ' O u r certainty will be a m a t t e r of conversation between persons, r a t h e r t h a n a m a t t e r of interaction with n o n - h u m a n reality'? 2 7 P e r h a p s all Rorty m e a n s is that to u n d e r s t a n d w h a t we m e a n by certainty we m u s t see w h a t it a m o u n t s to in the context of h u m a n epistemic practices. If so, it is highly misleading to say t h a t w h e n we are certain we do not come into contact with n o n - h u m a n realities. I n a perfectly obvious sense, books a n d a r m c h a i r s are n o n - h u m a n realities as are trees, m o u n t a i n s a n d countless other things. T h e conclusions we have arrived at have i m p o r t a n t implications for the philosophy of religion. O f course, there are i m p o r t a n t g r a m m a t i c a l differences between talk of physical objects a n d talk of G o d . W e have already seen in the first p a r t of the book how easy it is to turn our talk of G o d into metaphysical speculation. O u r task where the concept of G o d is concerned, as with the concept of a physical object, is not the metaphysical one of w o n d e r i n g how we can ever arrive a t such concepts. O n the contrary, these concepts are already given in the discourses in which they have their n a t u r a l h o m e . W i t h i n religious practices, distinctions are m a d e between those w h o say they know G o d b u t do not, a n d those w h o truly know h i m . T o appreciate w h a t religious certainties a m o u n t to, we m u s t explore the role such

talk has within these practices. T h e s e m a t t e r s will be explored later. 2 8 M y point now is a far m o r e limited one, namely, to point out that religious certainties, like a n y other certainties, have their sense within h u m a n epistemic practices. Yet, why should that fact lead us to say, with Rorty, t h a t we do not interact with n o n - h u m a n realities? It would be incredible if, as a result of e m p h a s i s i n g that religious concepts have their sense in h u m a n epistemic practices, we were told that we had to conclude, for no other reason t h a n this, t h a t w h e n someone says he knows G o d , the reality he comes into contact with cannot be a n o n - h u m a n reality! I a m not p r e j u d g i n g the issue of w h e t h e r alleged divine realities are, in fact, h u m a n realities. 2 9 W h a t I a m protesting against is the a priori thesis that f r o m the epistemological considerations we have been given by Rorty, it follows that no realities in our experience can be called n o n - h u m a n realities. It can be seen that, in fact, Rorty is in the grip of the very metaphysical tendencies he opposes. H e assumes t h a t if we do speak of n o n - h u m a n realities, such talk must involve us in metaphysical pretensions. W e have seen already t h a t this is not the case. It no more follows where talk of G o d is concerned t h a n it does f r o m our talk of tables, chairs, m o u n t a i n s a n d trees. Rorty ignores the n a t u r a l contexts of such talk. T o insist t h a t our n o r m a l talk should be reformed simply because there a r e metaphysical misrepresentations of it is to r e m a i n in the grip of those misrepresentations. A final e x a m p l e will illustrate this fact. As we have seen, Rorty accuses f o u n d a t i o n a l epistemology of w a n t i n g 'to see the p a t t e r n s of justification within n o r m a l discourse as m o r e t h a n j u s t such p a t t e r n s ' . 3 0 For example, we saw t h a t in relation to our talk of physical objects, we m a y be t e m p t e d to think that we can never know w h e t h e r our descriptions are accurate, because ' t h e thing', the substance, which they are supposed to be descriptions of, lies necessarily beyond our a c q u a i n t a n c e . T h e x which is a table a n d b r o w n can never be known. Rorty, rightly, w a n t s to rid us of this x, the metaphysical subject. In doing so, however, he robs us of o r d i n a r y subjects at the s a m e time. Rorty says it is a b s u r d to think ' t h a t the v o c a b u l a r y used by present science, morality or w h a t e v e r has some privileged a t t a c h m e n t to reality, which makes it more t h a n j u s t a f u r t h e r set of descriptions'. 3 1 W e have already seen, in discussing W i n c h ' s refutation of Roger Trigg, 3 2 t h a t the vocabulary, the language, in which we m a k e our j u d g e m e n t s , is not itself a description of anything. It neither succeeds nor fails to a t t a c h itself to reality,

since neither a s s u m p t i o n makes sense. Retaining the view of language as being in itself, a set of descriptions, is to retain at least half of the metaphysical picture Rorty takes himself to be opposing. O n the other h a n d , if we t u r n to the j u d g e m e n t s we do m a k e within our various ways of speaking, it is ludicrous to suppose t h a t all we ever encounter is a f u r t h e r set of descriptions. I n u n f a v o u r a b l e circumstances, I m a y offer a set of descriptions w h e n I fail to identify precisely w h a t I a m looking at. But w h e n , in good light, I sit on a chair or at a table, my reference to the chair a n d the table is not a reference to a f u r t h e r set of descriptions. I could describe these objects if asked, b u t , in the circumstances described, the objects themselves a r e not a f u r t h e r description of anything. T o think they are is still to be in the grip of Locke's notion of a n x, which, by definition, can have no n a t u r e . T h e same lessons hold in our talk of G o d . H e r e , as we have seen, the m a t t e r is complicated by the fact t h a t the g a p or tension between belief a n d non-belief is itself a g r a m m a t i c a l one. Nevertheless, t h a t complication n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g , it still r e m a i n s t h a t in speaking of G o d we are not confined to sets of descriptions which a p p r o x i m a t e to, b u t never c a p t u r e , his reality. O n the contrary, our talk of G o d , for example, saying t h a t ' G o d is love', is constitutive of w h a t we m e a n by divine reality. ' G o d is love' is not a description of G o d which m a y be true or false, b u t a g r a m m a t i c a l rule for one use, albeit a p r i m a r y one, of the word ' G o d ' . In the m o u t h of a believer it takes the form o f a confession of faith. W h a t we have seen is t h a t in elucidating the metaphysical world which he w a n t s to lose, Rorty places m u c h in j e o p a r d y which belongs to our ordinary world. Despite the fact that, for the most p a r t , in this c h a p t e r , religion has not been our central preoccupation, it has been i m p o r t a n t to observe t h a t the metaphysical tendencies which s t a n d in the way of giving religious epistemic practices the attention they merit, are the s a m e tendencies which stand in the way of giving p r o p e r attention to our o r d i n a r y talk of physical objects. O f course, m u c h else m a y stand in the way of our failure to u n d e r s t a n d religious beliefs; m a t t e r s which have more to do with the content of those beliefs. Yet, if the epistemological m i s a p p r e h e n s i o n s we have discussed are not overcome, the enquirer is h a r d l y likely to get t h a t far. O n the contrary, his reflections can barely get started in a profitable direction. T h e f u r t h e r difficulties discussed in the next two c h a p t e r s illustrate this t r u t h all too well.

Notes 1. Richard Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature (Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey, and Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1980), p. 4. 2. Wittgenstein, Investigations, vol. 1, p. 116. 3. Winch, 'Language, Belief and Relativism', p. 329. 4. Ibid. 5. Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature, p. 385. 6. I b i d , p. 174. 7. I b i d , p. 318. 8. Winch, 'Language, Belief and Relativism', p. 329. 9. J o h n Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, ed. and abridged by A.D. Woozley (Fontana Library, London, 1969), bk 2 xxiii 3, p. 186. 10. I b i d , bk 2 xxiii 3 pp. 186-7. 11. I b i d , b k 3 vi 2 pp. 283-4. 12. I b i d , bk 3 vi 9 p. 287. 13. I b i d , bk 2 xxiii 11 p. 191. 14. J o n a t h a n Bennett, Locke, Berkeley, Hume: Central Themes (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1971), p. 121. 15. I b i d , p. 122. 16. Locke, Essay, bk 3 vi 3 p. 284. 17. I b i d , bk 4 iii 26 p. 343. 18. I b i d , bk 2 xxiii 2 p. 186. 19. I b i d , p. 187. 20. Wittgenstein, Investigations, vol. 1 p. 92. 21. Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature, p. 157. 22. I b i d , p. 159. 23. Ibid. 24. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, para. 476. 25. I b i d , para. 221. 26. Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature, p. 181. 27. I b i d , p. 157. 28. In Part Four. 29. I have discussed reductionist explanations of religious belief in Religion Without Explanation. 30. Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature, p. 385. 31. I b i d , p. 361. 32. See Part One, Ch. 5.

11 Optional Descriptions?

In attacking the pretensions of epistemological foundationalism, Rorty also attacks a conception of philosophy as the assessor or a d j u d i c a t o r of h u m a n practices. As we have seen, we c a n n o t r e d u c e w h a t 'corresponding to reality' comes to to a single definition. As we have also seen, epistemology c a n n o t pretend to be the possessor or provider of such a definition. Yet, as Rorty says, 'Philosophy as a discipline c a p a b l e of giving us a " r i g h t m e t h o d of seeking t r u t h " d e p e n d s u p o n finding some p e r m a n e n t neutral f r a m e w o r k of all possible enquiry.' 1 T o a b a n d o n the search for such a f r a m e w o r k is 'to a b a n d o n the notion of philosophy as a discipline which a d j u d i c a t e s the claims of science a n d religion, m a t h e m a t i c s a n d poetry, reason a n d sentiment, allocating an a p p r o p r i a t e place to each'. 1 W e have seen how religious belief has been m i s u n d e r s t o o d by philosophers because they have mischaracterised it, subjecting it to criteria of m e a n i n g which were irrelevant. O n c e philosophers give u p their pretensions regarding this general test of intelligibility, we should expect t h e m to recognise, respect, a n d wait on the various activities a n d modes of discourse we engage in. W h e n they do so, they discover t h a t these various activities d o not p r e s u p p o s e a c o m m o n g r o u n d or a c o m m o n goal to which they all conform. It is p r e s u m p t u o u s of the philosopher to insist that, a l t h o u g h all the p a r t i c i p a n t s d e n y any knowledge of a c o m m o n f o u n d a t i o n or goal of their activities, such a f o u n d a t i o n or goal must be present in some way or other. A philosopher w h o argues in this way sees himself as ' t h e cultural overseer w h o knows everyone's c o m m o n g r o u n d — the Platonic philosopher-king w h o knows w h a t everybody else is really doing w h e t h e r they know it or not, because he knows a b o u t the u l t i m a t e context (the Forms,

the M i n d , L a n g u a g e ) within which they are doing it'. 3 O n c e these presuppositions are given up, the philosopher, instead o f i m p o s i n g his conception of 'correspondence to reality', ' t r u t h ' , 'goodness', etc., etc., on to the various practices, can wait on the practices themselves to explore w h a t they m e a n by these various concepts. But this is not w h a t we find Rorty doing. R a t h e r , as a result of the fall of f o u n d a t i o n a l epistemology, he concludes t h a t it has the beneficial consequence of ' p r e v e n t i n g m a n f r o m d e l u d i n g himself with the notion t h a t he knows himself, or a n y t h i n g else, except u n d e r optional descriptions'. 4 T h i s is a deeply misleading conclusion a n d one, once again, which shows that Rorty is still in the grip of the metaphysical views he thinks he has freed himself from. Rorty takes himself to be s h a r i n g Wittgenstein's aim to b r i n g words back f r o m their metaphysical to their ordinary use. For example, if we rescue the word ' k n o w ' f r o m its metaphysical use, we rescue it f r o m the philosophical restrictiveness of a single p a r a d i g m a t i c use. W e show t h a t the word can be used in a variety of contexts. T h e s e contexts will represent the o r d i n a r y uses of the word. According to Rorty, however, in these contexts, a n y t h i n g we say we know can only be known u n d e r an optional description. But that, clearly, is not our o r d i n a r y use of the word 'know'. W h a t constitutes knowledge a n d knowing something varies significantly in different contexts. T h a t does not m e a n , however, t h a t w h a t is known within these contexts is known u n d e r an optional description. Consider some examples. I a m working in a bakery a n d I a m asked how m a n y loaves of b r e a d we have left. I count t h e m a n d reply, ' T e n . ' I n w h a t sense is w h a t I know a n optional description? If I w a n t to give a correct a n s w e r to the question I have been asked, I have no option at all. N o r will it be any different if I a m told of a tribe w h o do not count. T h e y c o n d u c t their business transactions with only two categories: ' e n o u g h ' a n d 'not e n o u g h ' . T h i s m a y stop m e thinking, if I ever h a d such a t h o u g h t , t h a t our way of counting is the only possible way in which business could be conducted. But this does not m e a n t h a t I have a n option a b o u t the way I conduct my business or t h a t I have any choice w h e n asked to say how m a n y loaves a r e left in the bakery. I a m asked w h e t h e r a certain book is on a n a r m c h a i r . I go into the room, see a book on the a r m c h a i r , pick it up, check its title, a n d call out to the person w h o w a n t s to know, 'Yes, it's here.' I n w h a t sense, given t h a t I do not w a n t to lie or play a joke, is m y

reply optional for me? Even if I do w a n t to lie or play a joke, w h a t I w a n t to lie or joke a b o u t is not a state of affairs which falls u n d e r optional descriptions. If the descriptions seemed optional, the book a p p e a r i n g to be on the a r m c h a i r one m o m e n t , b u t not the other, in my h a n d a n d then seeming to vanish, I would not say I had a choice of descriptions. I'd say I was going crazy. I witness a car crash. People are flung out of the two cars which have collided. T h e y writhe a n d scream in agony before me. S o m e are badly cut, while others hold themselves d o u b l e d - u p t h o u g h the cause of it is not visible to my u n t r a i n e d eye. W h e n I bear witness later to w h a t I saw, I have no option w h e n I say t h a t these people were in pain. O n c e again, I m a y have been told of a tribe w h o only react as we do to pain w h e n w o u n d s are visible. O t h e r w i s e neither they, nor the person we would describe as doubled u p in pain, react as we would do in such situations. B u t this information does not leave m e in any d o u b t or confronted by any option w h e n it comes to describing the pain I witnessed in the car crash. N o w it is true t h a t our talk of m a t h e m a t i c s , physical objects a n d pain differs in i m p o r t a n t respects a n d w h a t knowing something in these different contexts comes to varies accordingly. W e have no p a r a d i g m of knowledge which transcends all these contexts. But that does not m e a n t h a t all we ever know within t h e m are sets of optional descriptions. If Rorty says t h a t the absence of a t r a n s c e n d e n t p a r a d i g m leads to this conclusion, then he is still in the grip of the metaphysical a s s u m p t i o n t h a t the possibility of knowledge is d e p e n d e n t on such a p a r a d i g m . T h e only difference between Rorty a n d the m e t a p h y s i c i a n would be t h a t the latter believes t h a t a t r a n s c e n d e n t p a r a d i g m of knowledge is available, while Rorty does not. W h a t we have seen, however, is t h a t our o r d i n a r y uses of ' k n o w ' a r e not d e p e n d e n t on this metaphysical r e q u i r e m e n t . As we have seen, Rorty holds t h a t a person deludes himself if he thinks he knows himself, or a n y t h i n g else, except u n d e r optional descriptions. W e have given examples to show t h a t this is not the case. Still, it might be said that these are not the examples Rorty has in m i n d . Rorty, it could be a r g u e d , is thinking in the m a i n of the plurality of moral, political a n d religious perspectives in a culture. H e is protesting, quite rightly, against philosophers w h o a t t e m p t to r e d u c e the genuine plurality of such perspectives to a spurious unity. Such philosophers regard the perspectives as

surface p h e n o m e n a , hiding f r o m us all the c o m m o n good which underlies t h e m all, or the c o m m o n goal they are all really p u r s u i n g . If that were all Rorty was doing, I should have no c o m p l a i n t s against him. Yet, philosophers w h o begin by noting a plurality of perspectives often go on to suggest, misleadingly, t h a t the recognition of such a plurality must be reflected in a certain a t t i t u d e on the p a r t of the a d h e r e n t s to the p a r t i c u l a r perspectives. T h a t does not follow at all. A person m a y have t h o u g h t t h a t one could not call one's own viewpoint m o r a l if one recognised the existence of other moral viewpoints. H e m a y have t h o u g h t t h a t their existence r o b b e d his own m o r a l viewpoint of its imperative. T h i s is a logical confusion which reflection on the plurality of perspectives m a y help to clear up. B u t this is quite different f r o m the suggestion t h a t once this plurality has been recognised, o n e ' s own moral perspective can only be seen as an option for one. T h e recognition t h a t there are m a n y viewpoints is quite consistent with a wide r a n g e of m o r a l attitudes to those viewpoints. C o n s i d e r a n example f r o m m a t t e r s of taste. A drinker recognises t h a t people's choices, w h e r e drinks are concerned, v a r y widely. A choice of drinks is o p e n to h i m in the sense t h a t they are available at the b a r a n d he is free to m a k e his choice. Yet, even here, having m a d e his choice, he m a y regard the drinks he seldom chooses as pleasant, u n p l e a s a n t , interesting, uninteresting, disgusting, a n d so on. But the reason why talk of options is at h o m e here is because we are discussing drinks, a m a t t e r of taste. A l t h o u g h some m a k e quite a fuss a b o u t such m a t t e r s , saying t h a t to follow a drink of one kind with a certain other kind of d r i n k is quite impossible, these m a t t e r s r e m a i n questions of taste. M o r a l questions a r e not m a t t e r s of taste, b u t m a t t e r s of decency. H e r e , too, there will be a whole r a n g e of attitudes to m o r a l viewpoints other t h a n one's own. Some will say t h a t some of t h e m contain i m p o r t a n t insights. O t h e r s will disagree. I n t h e case of a specific viewpoint there m a y be no a g r e e m e n t on w h e t h e r it should be called a moral viewpoint. But, even if it is, this fact need not lead a person to regard his own viewpoint as optional. O n the contrary, he m a y regard the o t h e r viewpoint as terrible, a n d as being all the worse for being a m o r a l viewpoint. So far f r o m viewing his own s t a n d p o i n t as optional, he m a y think t h a t a n y decent person should a d h e r e to it a n d it is essential t h a t he should do so. M y aim is not to tidy u p these differences. T h e differences are i m p o r t a n t g r a m m a t i c a l features of the use of the word ' m o r a l ' .

I find the suggestion that someone could regard all moral viewpoints as options bizarre, but we do not have to establish that point. All we need to show, a n d have shown, is t h a t the absence of a t r a n s c e n d e n t p a r a d i g m of the ' m o r a l ' does not reduce all m o r a l perspectives to the status o f ' o p t i o n a l descriptions'. As with our earlier examples, to think that this fact rules out the possibility of absolute c o m m i t m e n t s , is to r e m a i n in the grip of the very foundationalism in ethics one is supposed to be opposing. Rorty also believes that once f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m has been overthrown, criticism of the culture can only proceed piecemeal. T h e r e can be no reference to 'eternal s t a n d a r d s ' . 3 But w h a t does Rorty m e a n by eternal s t a n d a r d s ? H e m a y be attacking certain metaphysical conceptions. T h e idea of eternal s t a n d a r d s he attacks m a y be linked with the suggestion that a ' p e r m a n e n t n e u t r a l m a t r i x ' could be established by reference to which any cultural activity is to be assessed. If so, his criticisms have a point. But, one suspects, Rorty would like to go f u r t h e r a n d p u t a stop to talk of eternal s t a n d a r d s per se. T a l k of 'eternity' has its n a t u r a l h o m e in religious contexts. Its sense d e p e n d s on distinctions between time a n d eternity, the t e m p o r a l a n d the eternal in m a t t e r s of the spirit. But these religious uses do not d e p e n d on the metaphysics Rorty w a n t s to reject. K i e r k e g a a r d , in his Purity of Heart,6 discusses ' c o m m i t m e n t to the E t e r n a l ' , but would be as opposed as Rorty to epistemological foundationalism. H e is, of course, one of the great o p p o n e n t s of such f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m in the history of philosophy. In short, in ridding ourselves of metaphysical conceptions of t r a n s c e n d e n c e we do not rid ourselves of religious conceptions of transcendence. 7 O n the contrary, ridding ourselves of the metaphysical conception should help us to see the o r d i n a r y conception, in this case a religious one, more clearly. Needless to say, if a believer is c o m m i t t e d to obeying the eternal will of G o d , he is hardly likely to view this as an optional description which is open to him. O n c e again, in getting rid of a metaphysical world, Rorty gets rid of m u c h of our ordinary world at the same time. Rorty sees himself as having to m a k e a choice between two options: on the one h a n d , systematic philosophy, a n d on the other h a n d , edifying philosophy. By systematic philosophy he means, more or less, f o u n d a t i o n a l epistemology. Edifying philosophy, of which we shall have more to say in the next c h a p t e r , comes a b o u t w h e n philosophy engages in conversations with p a r t i c i p a n t s in other aspects of our culture. W h a t these p a r t i c i p a n t s p r o d u c e ,

a c c o r d i n g to R o r t y , are different o p t i o n a l d e s c r i p t i o n s u n d e r w h i c h t h e w o r l d c a n be perceived a n d u n d e r s t o o d . T h e c o n v e r s a t i o n they e n g a g e in, p h i l o s o p h e r s i n c l u d e d , is w h a t R o r t y m e a n s b y hermeneutics. B e c a u s e he takes himself to be faced w i t h a choice b e t w e e n s y s t e m a t i c a n d edifying p h i l o s o p h y , R o r t y does n o t give e n o u g h a t t e n t i o n to the possibility of n o n - s y s t e m a t i c p h i l o s o p h y , b y w h i c h I m e a n a p h i l o s o p h y w h i c h , while s h a r i n g R o r t y ' s a t t a c k o n f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m , leaves the v a r i e t y of m o r a l , political a n d religious p e r s p e c t i v e u n d i s t u r b e d . T h e n o n - s y s t e m a t i c p h i l o s o p h e r is i n t e r e s t e d in clarity a n d is t h e r e f o r e a n x i o u s to recognise t h e diversity of p e r s p e c t i v e s w i t h i n o u r c u l t u r e . W i t h i n s o m e of these t h e r e is talk of a b s o l u t e s t a n d a r d s a n d even of eternity. R a t h e r t h a n e n d e a v o u r to get rid of s u c h talk in the w a k e of a n a t t a c k o n f o u n d a t i o n a l e p i s t e m o l o g y , he will try to see w h a t it a m o u n t s to. T h e d a n g e r in R o r t y ' s m o d e of e n q u i r y is, t h a t in f r e e i n g us f r o m t h e p r e t e n s i o n s of m e t a p h y s i c s , he m a k e s us c a p t i v e to t h e p r e t e n s i o n s of h e r m e n e u t i c s . T h e e x t e n t of this captivity is yet to be e x p l o r e d .

Notes 1. Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature, p. 211. 2. I b i d , p. 212. 3. I b i d , p. 317-18. 4. I b i d , p. 379. 5. I b i d , p. 179. 6. S0ren Kierkegaard, Purity of Heart, trans. Douglas Steere (Harper Torch Books, New York, 1956). 7. See D.Z. Phillips, Death and Immortality (Macmillan, London, 1970).

12 The Hidden Values of Hermeneutics

W h a t is the n a t u r e of the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation to which Rorty invites us? I shall e n d e a v o u r to show t h a t it is a conversation which has h i d d e n values. W h e n these values a r e m a d e explicit we can see why Rorty will not settle for philosophy's modest task: the search for clarity. According to him, philosophy c a n n o t fulfil the aspirations of f o u n d a t i o n a l epistemology. T h e s e were pretentious a n d led philosophy to overreach itself. Yet, as we shall see, the role of philosophy in the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation is j u s t as pretentious, p e r h a p s more so, for being h i d d e n . Exposition of the n a t u r e of the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation is difficult, because Rorty himself is not consistent nor always clear in w h a t he has to say a b o u t it. H e tells us, H e r m e n e u t i c s sees the relation between various discourses as those of strands in a possible conversation, a conversation which presupposes no disciplinary m a t r i x which unites the speakers, b u t where the hope of a g r e e m e n t is never lost as long as the conversation lasts. T h i s hope is not a hope for the discovery of antecedently existing c o m m o n g r o u n d , but simply h o p e for a g r e e m e n t , or, at least, exciting a n d fruitful disagreement. Epistemology sees the hope of a g r e e m e n t as a token of the existence of c o m m o n g r o u n d , which, p e r h a p s u n k n o w n to the speakers, unites t h e m in a c o m m o n rationality. 1 F r o m this q u o t a t i o n it is at least clear w h a t Rorty is denying. H e is denying t h a t philosophy can fulfil the role of f o u n d a t i o n a l epistemology. H e does this in two ways: first, he denies t h a t epistemology can provide a n e u t r a l yardstick by which to m e a s u r e

the different claims of our epistemic practices; second, he denies that epistemology's task is to m a k e explicit a supposed implicit rational f o u n d a t i o n or rational goal which all h u m a n epistemic practices are said to possess. While the second task being denied avoids imposing external criteria of rationality on h u m a n practices, it imposes on t h e m a unity they do not possess. B u t w h a t positive hopes does Rorty have for philosophy once it has taken a h e r m e n e u t i c a l turn? T h e hope is t h a t the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation will end in a g r e e m e n t , or, at least, fruitful disagreement. W h a t fruitful d i s a g r e e m e n t a m o u n t s to is not at all clear. In any case d i s a g r e e m e n t , not to mention radical a n d irrevocable disagreement, does not f e a t u r e large in R o r t y ' s discussion. It is hope of a g r e e m e n t t h r o u g h the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation which p r e d o m i n a t e s . But w h a t does this h o p e d for a g r e e m e n t a m o u n t to? Surely, it is not to be interpreted so widely so as to include 'agreeing to differ'. A g r e e m e n t entails c o m m o n g r o u n d , but neither the a g r e e m e n t nor the c o m m o n g r o u n d need exist before the conversation. I n this, Rorty differs f r o m f o u n d a t i o n a l epistemologists a n d R e f o r m e d epistemologists. For him, a g r e e m e n t is hoped for s u b s e q u e n t to the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation. If we note w h a t actually h a p p e n s , such a g r e e m e n t m a y , in fact, occur in a n u m b e r of ways. First, one of the parties m a y realise his views are confused. Second, a g r e e m e n t m a y be reached by some kind of compromise. T h i r d , a g r e e m e n t m a y be reached w h e r e one party sees it is going to lose a n d simply w i t h d r a w s to fight a n o t h e r day. A g r e e m e n t s in industrial disputes often take this form. O n e side m a y accept an offer, the perceived i n a d e q u a c y of which caused the dispute in the first place. Yet, even in these circumstances, it is said t h a t a n a g r e e m e n t in the dispute has been reached. T h e s e cases, a n d others one could m e n t i o n , require s e p a r a t e t r e a t m e n t a n d c a n n o t be r u n together. W e never find out f r o m Rorty the details of the situations he has in m i n d . Worse, at times he seems to espouse a purely p r a g m a t i c conception of a g r e e m e n t , where ' a g r e e m e n t ' simply m e a n s t h a t , as a m a t t e r of fact, someone h a s come out top in the conversation. Here, the best a r g u m e n t is simply the one that works. Even at this early stage in the h e r m e n e u t i c t u r n , a h i d d e n value has come to light: a g r e e m e n t is good, a n d d i s a g r e e m e n t is b a d . Despite the earlier reference to fruitful disagreement, it is highly unlikely to be accorded more t h a n a stage in the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation, a conversation which has a g r e e m e n t as its a i m . Rorty h a s not p u t aside the g r a n d designs in philosophy he seemed

to be attacking. O n the contrary, the only difference between f o u n d a t i o n a l epistemology a n d hermeneutics is that the former a s s u m e d a g r e e m e n t to be already present, while the latter has it as a goal to aspire to. As Rorty says, ' t h e hope of a g r e e m e n t is never lost as long as the conversation lasts'. 2 I n fact, there m a y be m o r e to be said for the certainty f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m claimed to appeal to. At least it was something definite; a p a r a d i g m taken f r o m a p a r t i c u l a r m o d e of discourse a n d illegitimately elevated to be a p a r a d i g m for all modes of discourse. T h e certainty h o p e d for in the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation m a y t u r n out to be far m o r e elusive to grasp. O n c e we see the hope for such a g r e e m e n t to be a h i d d e n value in hermeneutics, a second h i d d e n value follows quickly in its wake. Since a g r e e m e n t is to come via conversation, readiness to engage in the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation is a s s u m e d , w i t h o u t a r g u m e n t , to be a good thing. But has Rorty the right to m a k e that a s s u m p t i o n ? H e says, 'Epistemology views the p a r t i c i p a n t s as united in w h a t O a k e s h o t t calls a n universitas — a g r o u p united by m u t u a l interests in achieving a c o m m o n end. H e r m e n e u t i c s views t h e m as united in w h a t he calls a societas — persons whose p a t h s t h r o u g h life have fallen together, united by civility r a t h e r t h a n by a c o m m o n goal, m u c h less by a c o m m o n g r o u n d . ' 3 But if we look at contexts such as this, a society in which, as Rorty says, people have been t h r o w n together, because their p a t h s have h a p p e n e d to cross, it is clear t h a t conversations will not be conversations with everyone. F u r t h e r , invitations to converse m a y be accepted or refused. After all, it is often a criticism to say of someone t h a t he'll talk to anyone. People will take the view t h a t there are conversations they should engage in a n d others which they should have n o t h i n g to do with. A n d , of course, people will differ widely over which conversations these are. So if religious believers refuse to engage in certain conversations, this will not be peculiar to t h e m . O n the contrary, it is a characteristic which almost everyone shares. Rorty c a n n o t escape f r o m these observations by a r g u i n g t h a t by civility he m e a n s the readiness to converse with those with w h o m we disagree. N o d o u b t such readiness is a p p a r e n t in i n n u m e r a b l e cases. I t m u s t also be noted that, in o t h e r cases, such civility would be frowned on. W h e r e certain viewpoints a r e concerned, uncivil relations with t h e m m a y be praised a n d conversation positively discouraged or even forbidden. T h e role of the philosopher is to note t h a t there are these

a g r e e m e n t s a n d disagreements w h e n , for some reason or a n o t h e r , a philosopher is t e m p t e d to distort or ignore them. T h e question of w h e t h e r those w h o disagree with each o t h e r should engage in conversation, in the hope of a g r e e m e n t , is not one that philosophy can answer, even w h e n it calls itself hermeneutics. If some invitations to converse are greeted with e n t h u s i a s m , while others are told, ' G e t thee behind me, Satan!', philosophy possesses no a priori m e t h o d by which it can be shown t h a t the latter response is necessarily misplaced or that the f o r m e r response is always to be welcomed. Philosophy has to leave logical space for these different reactions. I n identifying civility with readiness to converse, Rorty is doing no more t h a n expressing his own opinions a b o u t the m a t t e r . W h a t he is not doing is delineating the role philosophy m u s t have after f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m . W h a t does a philosopher look like after he has taken a h e r m e n e u t i c turn? As we have seen, he can no longer be r e g a r d e d as ' t h e cultural overseer w h o knows everyone's c o m m o n g r o u n d ' . Rorty describes his new role as that of 'the informed dilettante, the p o l y p r a g m a t i c , Socratic i n t e r m e d i a r y between various discourses. I n his salon, so to speak, h e r m e t i c thinkers are c h a r m e d out of their self-enclosed practices. Disagreements between disciplines a n d discourses are c o m p r o m i s e d or t r a n s c e n d e d in the course of the conversation.' 4 O n c e again, however, we have to ask why it is t h o u g h t t h a t people o u g h t to be c h a r m e d out of or c o m p r o m i s e their practices. As we have seen, it m a y be necessary to clear u p the confusion of someone w h o thinks that, in o r d e r to defend the ' t r u t h s ' of his practices, he m u s t deny the descriptive terms ' m o r a l ' or 'religious' to any practices other t h a n his own. Yet, this has n o t h i n g to do with p e r s u a d i n g someone to c h a n g e his practices. If a person were asked to enter a conversation with a d h e r e n t s of a view he found extremely distasteful, a n d if he were told t h a t civility d e m a n d e d t h a t his differences with t h e m should be t r a n s c e n d e d , he m i g h t reply, with good reason, 'So m u c h the worse for civility!'. W e see a third h i d d e n value emerge in the h e r m e n e u t i c a l a s s u m p t i o n s of the kind of philosopher Rorty has in m i n d : he assumes t h a t there is such a thing as n o r m a l discourse a n d a b n o r m a l discourse. N o r m a l discourse is t h a t discourse within which, for the most part, the p a r t i c i p a n t s agree with each other. W i t h i n n o r m a l discourse there a r e settled, well-established procedures by reference to which any disputes, should they arise, can be settled. A b n o r m a l discourse occurs w h e n someone joins

the conversation w h o does not share or conform to the s t a n d a r d s of n o r m a l discourse. Rorty gives, as a n analogy, K u h n ' s distinction between n o r m a l science a n d revolutionary science. T h e analogy is misleading, in this context, since however revolutionary the change, we are still talking a b o u t a c h a n g e in the course of science. Rorty's use of ' a b n o r m a l discourse' is so wide, by contrast, t h a t it is m e a n t to span from utter nonsense to revolutions! W h a t exactly is a b n o r m a l discourse? It m u s t have some context in which it h a s its sense. Even Rorty a d m i t s that to a t t e m p t a b n o r m a l discourse de novo is m a d n e s s . O n e kind of situation Rorty h a s in m i n d is this: a scientist, with scientistic pretensions of being able to reduce everything to a c o m m o n d e n o m i n a t o r , is resisted by a d h e r e n t s to moral, political a n d religious perspectives. T h e y a r g u e against scientism. If such a confrontation is called a b n o r m a l discourse, the term simply refers to the clash, the disagreement, between the perspectives involved. But Rorty w a n t s to call the perspectives themselves instances of a b n o r m a l discourse. If so, this c a n n o t be because there a r e no procedures for reaching a g r e e m e n t within these perspectives. For example, within a religious perspective there may be procedures for d e t e r m i n i n g w h e n a spirit is or is not of G o d . If, then, this religious perspective is called a b n o r m a l discourse, it is not because the p a r t i c i p a n t s c a n n o t reach a g r e e m e n t within it, b u t because nonparticipants cannot reach agreement about it. B u t why should the fact that those w h o do not participate in a practice c a n n o t agree a b o u t it, entitle us to call the discourse of t h a t practice a b n o r m a l ? A n o t h e r h i d d e n value begins to emerge in the form of a n a p p e a l to some kind of observers' view of h u m a n practices. W h o a r e these observers? W h a t status do they have? T h e answers to these questions have yet to emerge. At this point we are confronted, not by a h i d d e n value in hermeneutics, but by a n explicit one. O n c e we p u t aside f o u n d a t i o n a l epistemologies, we are left with edifying philosophy. Edification occurs w h e n a b n o r m a l discourse is viewed f r o m the perspective of n o r m a l discourse. W h a t does this edification a m o u n t to? Rorty replies, T h e a t t e m p t to edify (ourselves or others) m a y consist in the h e r m e n e u t i c activity of m a k i n g connections between our culture a n d some exotic culture or historical period, or between our own discipline a n d a n o t h e r discipline which seems to p u r s u e i n c o m m e n s u r a b l e aims in an

i n c o m m e n s u r a b l e vocabulary. But it m a y instead consist in the 'poetic' activity of thinking u p such new aims, new words or new disciplines, followed by, so to speak, the inverse of hermeneutics: the a t t e m p t to reinterpret our familiar s u r r o u n d i n g s in the unfamiliar terms of our new inventions. In either case, the activity is (despite the etymological relation between the two words) edifying without being constructive — at least if 'constructive' m e a n s the sort of co-operation in the a c c o m p l i s h m e n t of research p r o g r a m m e s which takes place in n o r m a l discourse. For edifying discourse is supposed to be a b n o r m a l , to take us out of our old selves by the power of strangeness, to aid us in becoming new beings. 5 T h i s long passage illustrates how vague a notion R o r t y ' s conception of edification is. H e thinks in the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation ' t h a t the preservation of the values of the E n l i g h t e n m e n t is our best h o p e . ' 6 But these values m u s t be stripped of their foundationalist pretensions. T h e parties in the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation are not subject to a sovereign concept of reason. O n the contrary, edifying philosophy overthrows all a t t e m p t s to discover ' t h e final c o m m e n s u r a t i n g vocabulary for all possible rational discourse'. 7 Rorty would not only be opposed to the f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m which seeks a n external f o u n d a t i o n for all h u m a n practices. H e would also be opposed to those R e f o r m e d epistemologists w h o argued as t h o u g h all the practices already have a c o m m o n f o u n d a t i o n in G o d even w h e n the p a r t i c i p a n t s fail to recognise this. 8 Rorty sees a n y a t t e m p t to reduce all vocabularies to one as a denial of our h u m a n i t y . A n o t h e r h i d d e n value emerges at this stage of the a r g u m e n t . W h e n Rorty resists any a t t e m p t to reduce the variety of h u m a n perspectives a n d practices to a c o m m e n s u r a b l e measure, he is speaking as an enquirer w h o w a n t s to respect the differences he sees in the account he gives of them. So far, so good. But Rorty w a n t s to go f u r t h e r . H e claims t h a t no individual can identify himself completely with any of the styles of discourse involved in the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation. T h i s is a m u c h bolder claim. It is a r e c o m m e n d a t i o n that the individual should have a d e t e r m i n a t e a t t i t u d e t o w a r d s the modes of discourse he encounters. B u t this r e c o m m e n d a t i o n does not follow f r o m any kind of philosophical analysis. W h a t if the discourse with which a person identifies himself is religious? W h a t if he says that, in G o d , he lives a n d

moves a n d h a s his being? W h a t kind of confusion is he supposed to be guilty of? Rorty says t h a t the edifying philosopher's a i m is to keep the conversation going r a t h e r t h a n aim for objective t r u t h . H e says t h a t no one can be a c q u a i n t e d or provided with 'all of T r u t h ' . B u t the believer m a y insist t h a t J e s u s is the W a y , the Life a n d the T r u t h . W h a t has h a p p e n e d here is that, once again, Rorty has conflated the metaphysical concepts he w a n t s to attack with some i m p o r t a n t concepts in the practices he says he w a n t s to respect. T h u s , w h e n he attacks the notions of 'objective t r u t h ' or ' f J of T r u t h ' , he is referring to the kind of f o u n d a t i o n a l knowledge systematic philosophies claimed they could provide. H e is attacking the possibility of a science of values. B u t w h e n Christians say t h a t J e s u s is the T r u t h , they are not p u t t i n g forward a n y such science. T h e y are confessing their Faith. Rorty objects to a n individual finding his identity in such a confession, as though t h a t contravened his insights when attacking foundational epistemology. Of course, it does no such thing. A believer m a y be quite a w a r e of the values a n d t r u t h s proclaimed in other practices. T h e i r existence a n d difference need not be denied by his confession. T h e h i d d e n values of h e r m e n e u t i c s emerge all the m o r e clearly if we ask w h e t h e r Rorty objects to an absolute religious allegiance on the p a r t of the believer. It m a y seem, at first, t h a t he does not w a n t to interfere with the allegiances of individuals. After all, he does say t h a t the b u r d e n of choice c a n n o t pass f r o m an individual. H e m u s t reach his conclusions for himself. B u t these a p p e a r a n c e s are deceptive. It is h a r d to see how Rorty could condone refusal to engage in the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation, since he says t h a t 'getting into a conversation with strangers is like acquiring a new virtue'. 9 If Rorty were simply r e c o m m e n d i n g the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation to those, like himself, w h o are a t t r a c t e d by it, they could be left to their business, confused t h o u g h it might be. B u t he is doing m o r e t h a n that: he is giving philosophy a new prescriptive role after the demise of f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m . H e is not p r e p a r e d to settle for clarity. T h e prescriptive c h a r a c t e r of his enterprise is shown in his advocacy of talking to strangers a n d coming to feel at ease with w h a t was strange previously. B u t how can such advocacy be m a d e in vacuo? O f course, it is easy e n o u g h to think of situations in which closer contact has led to greater u n d e r s t a n d i n g a n d the clearing u p of fear, prejudice a n d baseless

suspicion. O n the other h a n d , it is equally easy to think of situations where distance should be m a i n t a i n e d , since contact would be contact with .what is evil a n d base. I n t h a t event, it is better t h a t such things should r e m a i n strange to us. ' D o n ' t speak to strangers' is often good advice. I have refrained f r o m giving examples because a n o t h e r feature of such situations to be noted, is t h a t there will be differences a n d d i s a g r e e m e n t s in m a n y cases over w h a t we should d r a w near to a n d w h a t we should keep a w a y from. That is the kind of complexity philosophy m u s t respect a n d refrain from tidying up. Rorty, like the epistemologists he criticises, c a n n o t settle for differences. T h e y insisted on providing foundations. H e insists on edifying us. Let us see f u r t h e r w h a t this involves. Consider a religious believer w h o sees certain non-religious perspectives as greatly distanced f r o m his own perspective. T h e y seem strange to h i m . T h i s m a y be d u e to m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s on his p a r t . If all Rorty were saying were that w h e n these m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s are cleared up, the perspectives no longer seem strange, there would be no objections to his r a t h e r obvious claim. B u t t h a t is not w h a t Rorty is saying. H e is claiming t h a t the a i m of a h e r m e n e u t i c conversation is t h a t we should feel at ease with w h a t was strange to us before. But why should it not be otherwise? W h y should w h a t was strange to us before the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation not be even s t r a n g e r after it? Faced with a readiness to a c c o m m o d a t e on the p a r t of the believers, the p r o p h e t r e m o n s t r a t e d , ' W o e to t h e m t h a t are at ease in Zion!' Rorty goes further: he suggests that a n o t h e r aim of the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation is 'to reinterpret our familiar s u r r o u n d i n g s in the unfamiliar terms of our new inventions', 1 0 the new inventions being new aims, words, or disciplines which m a y emerge f r o m our conversations. H e gives the examples of F r e u d i a n i s m a n d M a r x i s m being incorporated into people's vocabularies. If Rorty is referring to the values associated with these m o v e m e n t s they have, u n d o u b t e d l y , eroded old values, including religious ones, in the lives of m a n y people. But if by F r e u d i a n i s m a n d M a r x i s m we m e a n their pretensions to be systematic philosophies, then Rorty should attack the s a m e essentialism in t h e m as he did in f o u n d a t i o n a l epistemology. T h e r e is little evidence of Rorty allowing t h a t there could be a religious critique of these movements. His emphasis is always on the incorporation of the new a n d the innovative. T h e reason for this emphasis is to be found in Rorty's conviction

that one of the purposes of h e r m e n e u t i c philosophy is to break the hold of convention. O n c e again, however, it is essential to distinguish between philosophical conventions a n d ordinary conventions. R o r t y ' s attack on the foundationalist conventions of epistemology m u s t not be confused with an attack on established m o r a l a n d religious conventions. I n this latter context, as we have seen, there will be different a n d conflicting j u d g e m e n t s . 'Sticking to one's ways' will be an accusation in the m o u t h s of some a n d a congratulation in the m o u t h s of others. T h a t this is so is a d a t u m for philosophy to observe, not a p r o b l e m for philosophy to clear u p . Despite his e m p h a s i s on historical considerations, Rorty, curiously enough, shows little real interest in the content of any moral, political or religious perspective. I n s t e a d , he emphasises the confusions a b o u t any perspective f r o m which h e r m e n e u t i c s is supposed to deliver us. T h e story, applied here to religious belief, goes s o m e t h i n g like this: we m a y be confused a b o u t the logical c h a r a c t e r of our religious belief. Because we say we are in contact with an u l t i m a t e reality, we m a y think this entails t h a t we have a conception of reality as the external f o u n d a t i o n of all those practices in which we distinguish, in various ways, between the real a n d the unreal. O n c e we are delivered f r o m this misconception we see that our religious perspective enjoys no absolute metaphysical status. I n the culture, it is simply one option a m o n g others. But w h a t h a p p e n s w h e n , as Rorty r e c o m m e n d s , we begin s a m p l i n g the options? T h e r e are times w h e n the s a m p l i n g is simply a m a t t e r of noting w h o wins t h a t p a r t i c u l a r conversation. But once some voice or other has become the d o m i n a n t one, we are not to be satisfied with that either. W e are called on again to pastures new. A n d so a n o t h e r conversation is won a n d a n o t h e r c o n t e n t m e n t g u a r d e d against. It seems t h a t w h e n Rorty called his philosopher ' a n informed dilettante' he said more t h a n he realised, for the character w h o emerges from the h e r m e n e u t i c story is the d a b b l e r w h o c a n n o t give himself to a n y t h i n g for very long. T h e interest of the d a b b l e r seems to be c a p t u r e d by the following description:

T o say we become different people, t h a t we ' r e m a k e ' ourselves as we read more, talk m o r e a n d write more, is simply a d r a m a t i c way of saying t h a t the sentences which become true of us by virtue of such activities a r e often more i m p o r t a n t to us t h a n the sentences which become true of

us w h e n we drink more, earn more, a n d so on. T h e events which m a k e us able to say new a n d interesting things a b o u t ourselves are, in this n o n m e t a p h y s i c a l sense, more 'essential' to us (at least to us relatively leisured intellectuals i n h a b i t i n g a stable a n d prosperous p a r t of the world) t h a n the events which c h a n g e our shapes or our s t a n d a r d s of living." P u t a little more flatteringly, it could be a r g u e d t h a t R o r t y ' s notion of a h e r m e n e u t i c conversation is simply a philosophical reconstruction of his own interests as a n historian of the intellect for w h o m philosophy becomes a ' "voice in the conversation of m a n k i n d " . . . which centres on one topic r a t h e r t h a n a n o t h e r at some given time not by dialectical necessity b u t as a result of various things h a p p e n i n g elsewhere in the conversations'. 1 2 Rorty insists t h a t edifying philosophy m u s t leave room for w o n d e r at the new. W h a t we have seen is t h a t a n over-emphasis in this direction leaves no room for w o n d e r at the ordinary. T h e values of the dilettante cannot be reflected in the a t t i t u d e s of the p a r t i c i p a n t s in the practices the dilettante is reflecting on. T h i s is because, in seeking his own edification, he does not give t h e m the attention they deserve f r o m a philosopher; he does not wait on t h e m . T o analyse the attitudes of the p a r t i c i p a n t s in terms of the d a b b l e r ' s attitudes would lead to radical incoherence. T h e dilettante does not c o m m i t himself to any perspective. H e claims to be a b s o r b e d in their history, in their comings a n d goings, their f o r m a t i o n s a n d declines. But to be truly absorbed in the history of various practices is to wait on the conceptions found in them. A m o n g these, as in religious perspectives, there are conceptions of t r u t h a n d eternal s t a n d a r d s . People have died for the t r u t h . C o u l d Rorty's informed dilettante give an account of t h a t fact? W a s it t h a t m a r t y r s did not realise there were other options o p e n to them? If Rorty h a d waited on the religious perspective he would have seen t h a t the knowledge of G o d believers possess, after foundationalism, does not have to be identified by the o u t c o m e of the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation. I t m i g h t survive such a conversation or get lost in it. But its p r i m a r y m e a n i n g is to be found in the ordinary context of praise a n d worship. H o w is a believer to respond if the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation seems to be going against him? C a n he say, with Rorty, ' I t would be foolish to keep conversation on the subject going once everyone, or the majority, or the wise, are satisfied, but of course we can.' 13 Rorty says t h a t by knowledge we m e a n w h a t our peers will let

us get away with. Religious believers will not be impressed by this view. After all, they have been told t h a t G o d has m a d e foolish the wisdom of this world, a n d they have been w a r n e d to b e w a r e of those w h o are wise in the ways of the world. W h y , then, should they seek a consensus opinion? N o reason at all, unless they become e n t r a p p e d by Rorty's relativistic conception of knowledge as consensus opinion. O b j e c t i o n s to Rorty's view of knowledge as that which our peers will let us get away with do not d e p e n d , however, on taking the allegiances of minority groups as our examples. O n the contrary, t h e objections hold in the case of the most o r d i n a r y examples of n o r m a l discourse. Consider, for example, our talk of colours. It is a fact, of course, that w h e n I see a red object I expect a n y o t h e r normally sighted person to see t h a t it is red too. But I do not consult the majority in calling the object red. I d o not agree with t h e m to react in the way I do. I simply react a n d find that they agree. It is an a g r e e m e n t in our reactions. O n Rorty's analysis w h a t the colour of the object is, is a m a t t e r of w h a t the consensus is a m o n g opinions first reached on an individual basis. O n such a view, each individual could have his own conception of red, green, blue, etc. T h e logical point, however, is t h a t there is no conception of colours prior to the a g r e e m e n t in reactions, a n d in those reactions, no reference is m a d e to the m a j o r i t y at all. O n a given occasion, the individual could be right, a n d the m a j o r i t y wrong. W h e n we t u r n to moral, political a n d religious perspectives it is even more i m p o r t a n t to resist Rorty's analysis. A l t h o u g h we do not learn w h a t to value in the way we learn colour, here, too, a g r e e m e n t in reactions is i m p o r t a n t . I m a y be introduced to a moral, political or religious perspective. T h e likelihood, in the vast m a j o r i t y of cases, is t h a t this perspective has been established long before I was born. Yet, making it my own is not a m a t t e r of conforming to w h a t the m a j o r i t y say. I could a d h e r e to it for that reason, but, then, my a d h e r e n c e is conventional a n d not real. T h i s distinction lies at the root of Plato's separation of philosophical virtues from p o p u l a r virtues. A soldier w h o h a s p o p u l a r virtue m a y act in conformity to w h a t courage d e m a n d s , but only because he fears public c o n d e m n a t i o n more. H e is not courageous. H e barters fear for fear. If a person simply conforms to a m a j o r i t y consensus, he will do whatever the majority say he o u g h t to do. A m a n w h o believes in something morally will not a b a n d o n it simply because the m a j o r i t y w h o once s u p p o r t e d it

n o w a b a n d o n it. For him, knowing w h a t is right is not a m a t t e r of w h a t his peers let h i m get a w a y with. I n d e e d , the trouble with the peers m a y be precisely their readiness to let us get a w a y with such things. Looking back at the h i d d e n values of hermeneutics, it is h a r d to see a n y good reason why philosophy should take this t u r n after foundationalism. W e have seen w h a t these h i d d e n values come to: we m u s t be ready to enter into a conversation with those with w h o m we disagree in the culture in the hope of t r a n s c e n d i n g our disagreements. Yet, should a g r e e m e n t be reached, we are not to rest content in it, b u t are to be called on to f u r t h e r innovative conversations. All this is said to be the consequence of seeing t h r o u g h the f o u n d a t i o n a l pretensions of epistemology. T h e world of these pretensions is a world well lost. Yet in the course of his criticisms we have seen Rorty demolish m u c h of our o r d i n a r y world at the same time. H e also thinks t h a t no such thing as a distinctively philosophical m e t h o d survives his criticisms. If by 'method' he m e a n s the establishing of epistemological foundations, this m a y be true. But philosophical m e t h o d , as we have seen in Wittgenstein, need not a m o u n t to this. Its characteristic m e t h o d will be to get us to see things as they are by recalling our ways of speaking f r o m w h a t our metaphysical tendencies have m a d e of t h e m , to the n a t u r a l place they have in people's lives. T h i s task, as we have seen, m a y be far more a r d u o u s t h a n we might suppose. O u r conceptual confusions m a y have a strong hold on us. M y contention h a s been t h a t Rorty does not give us back our n a t u r a l ways of talking. T h e y are distorted by his conception of hermeneutics. Rorty says, 'For hermeneutics, inquiry is routine conversation'. 1 4 U n f o r t u n a t e l y , as conceptual clarification shows, this is not the case: in hermeneutics, routine conversation is vulgarised. Rorty complains a b o u t the lack of a g r e e m e n t over w h a t constitutes a successful conceptual analysis. T h a t lack of a g r e e m e n t no d o u b t exists. But impatience with a philosophical conversation is not a good reason for forsaking it for the conversation called hermeneutics.

Notes 1. Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature, p. 318. 2. Ibid., p. 318. 3. Ibid. 4. Ibid., p. 317. 5. Ibid., p. 360. 6. Ibid., pp. 335-6. 7. Ibid., p. 387. 8. See Chapter 6. 9. Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature, p. 319. 10. Ibid., p. 360. 11. Ibid., p. 359. 12. Ibid., p. 264. 13. Ibid., p. 159. 14. Ibid., p. 318.

13 The Sociologising of Values

W e have seen that, in w a n t i n g to be the philosophical successors to f o u n d a t i o n a l epistemology, R e f o r m e d epistemology a n d hermeneutics take us a w a y f r o m the world we already know. O p p o s i n g the metaphysical pretensions of foundationalism, these philosophies fall foul of pretensions of their own. Despite the fact t h a t these were exposed by m e a n s of philosophical a r g u m e n t s , a r g u m e n t s influenced by Wittgenstein, m a n y have come to the conclusion t h a t the kind of conceptual attention our s u r r o u n d i n g s deserve c a n n o t be supplied from within philosophy itself. After foundationalism, they argue, we m u s t t u r n elsewhere. T h e direction in which we should t u r n , it is suggested, is t h a t which leads us to the sociology of knowledge. At first, it m a y seem, t h a t in the criticisms we are a b o u t to consider, sociologists of knowledge are close to Wittgenstein's strictures on philosophical theorising. T h e theoretical formulations of reality, w h e t h e r they be scientific or philosophical or even mythological, d o not exhaust w h a t is 'real' for the m e m b e r s of a society. Since this is so, the sociology of knowledge m u s t first of all concern itself with w h a t people 'know' as 'reality' in their everyday non- or pre-theoretical lives. I n o t h e r words, c o m m o n - s e n s e 'knowledge' r a t h e r t h a n 'ideas' m u s t be the central focus for the sociology o f k n o w l e d g e . I t is precisely this 'knowledge' t h a t constitutes the fabric of m e a n i n g s w i t h o u t which n o society could exist. 1 I t is true t h a t Peter Berger a n d T h o m a s L u c k m a n n say t h a t philosophy's task is 'to o b t a i n m a x i m a l clarity as to the u l t i m a t e status of w h a t the m a n in the street believes to be "reality" a n d

"knowledge" ', 2 b u t they also think that philosophy has failed in this task: T h e sociology of knowledge u n d e r s t a n d s h u m a n reality as socially constructed reality. Since the constitution of reality has traditionally been a central p r o b l e m of philosophy, this u n d e r s t a n d i n g h a s certain philosophical implications. I n so far as there has been a strong tendency for this p r o b l e m , with all the questions it involves, to become trivialized in c o n t e m p o r a r y philosophy, the sociologist m a y find himself, to his surprise p e r h a p s , the inheritor of philosophical questions t h a t the professional philosophers are no longer interested in considering. 3 T h i s is a bold claim. If my a n s w e r to it is not to be m i s u n d e r s t o o d , the context in which it is offered m u s t be clear f r o m the outset. Berger has accused philosophers of failing in the task of clearing u p confusions a b o u t o u r o r d i n a r y uses of 'knowledge', ' b e l i e f , ' t r u t h ' , etc. H e offers to give us t h a t clear view. M y concern is with the l a n g u a g e he offers us in his a t t e m p t to d o so. T h e object of my criticisms, therefore, is not sociology as a subject, b u t the language offered by a p a r t i c u l a r sociologist as the m e a n s of clarity. T h a t this should be t h o u g h t necessary is d u e to the fact that, although confused, this l a n g u a g e h a s been influential. T h e l a n g u a g e is, in fact, conceptually confused, a n instance of language idling. But, as we shall see, this does not m e a n t h a t it has no effect. It invites us to think in a w a y which obscures f r o m us the very possibilities it claims to be clarifying. W h a t Berger presents is a persuasive story. O u r only hope of seeing through it is by a criticism of each stage in its development. W e shall find t h a t there are m a n y echoes of Rorty's notion of hermeneutics in Berger's sociological story. At the first stage of the story, we find m a n presented as the radical inventor of the world in which he lives. Berger tells us, ' M a n m a n u f a c t u r e s a tool a n d by t h a t action enriches the totality of physical objects present in the world. O n c e p r o d u c e d , the tool has a being of its own t h a t c a n n o t readily be c h a n g e d by those w h o employ it.' 4 U n a w a r e of any c h a n g e of g r a m m a t i c a l context Berger proceeds to say, ' M a n invents a l a n g u a g e a n d then finds that both his speaking a n d thinking are d o m i n a t e d by its g r a m m a r . M a n produces values a n d discovers t h a t he feels guilt w h e n he contravenes t h e m . ' 3 Berger sees no difference between speaking

a language within which it makes sense to speak of inventive activities, a n d speaking of l a n g u a g e itself as if it could be the p r o d u c t of invention. Inventiveness presupposes intelligibility, a n d therefore c a n n o t be postulated in o r d e r to explain its origin. Berger confuses internal conceptual relations by treating t h e m as t h o u g h they were events a n d consequences. C o n f o r m i t y to g r a m m a r , or m o r a l guilt, are not consequences discovered s u b s e q u e n t to the alleged inventions of l a n g u a g e a n d values, since g r a m m a r a n d guilt are internally related to the speaking of a l a n g u a g e a n d to morality, respectively. H a v i n g postulated m a n as the radical inventor of meanings, Berger is faced with the p r o b l e m of explaining why the m e a n i n g s of words are not at our disposal, to do with t h e m w h a t we will. H e has to a d m i t , of course, t h a t after the initial inventions, the rest of us are born into a world not of our making. H e says, 'the basic co-ordinates within which one m u s t move a n d decide have still been d r a w n by others, most of t h e m strangers, m a n y of t h e m long in their graves'. 6 So, in this, t h e second stage of the story, m a n is presented as the radical victim of his own inventions. Berger's analysis of the sense in which a m a n is a victim is extremely confusing, a n d obscures f r o m us the reality of the victimisations to which people m a y be subject. For example, people m a y be victimised w h e n they are m a d e subject to coercive institutions. But Berger claims t h a t institutions are, by n a t u r e , coercive. 'Above all,' he says, 'society manifests itself by its coercive power.' 7 W h e n he gives t h e law as a n example of coercion, we m a y be t e m p t e d to think t h a t he is going to give instances of institutions, or features of institutions, he considers to be coercive. Yet this is not so. Berger claims, ' t h e s a m e coercive objectivity characterises society as a whole a n d is present in all social institutions, including those institutions t h a t were f o u n d e d on consensus'. 8 Clearly, for Berger, 'coercive' c a n n o t m e a n a c h a r a c t e r possessed by some institutions, b u t not others. H e says, ' I t is i m p o r t a n t to stress t h a t this controlling c h a r a c t e r is i n h e r e n t in institutionalization as such.' 9 Berger insists, T h i s (most emphatically) does not m e a n t h a t all societies are variations of t y r a n n y . I t does m e a n t h a t no h u m a n construction can be accurately called a social p h e n o m e n o n unless it has achieved t h a t m e a s u r e of objectivity t h a t compels the individual to recognise it as real. I n other words, the f u n d a m e n t a l coerciveness of society lies not in its

machineries of social control, b u t in its power to constitute a n d impose itself as reality. 1 0 Berger's metaphysical abstractions in these r e m a r k s obscure from us the realities of personal a n d social life. W e m a y w a n t to call some institutions coercive, b u t not others. I n calling t h e m all coercive, Berger robs this distinction of its point. Again, within certain institutions, we m a y be coerced to say or do w h a t we would prefer not to do. At other times, we m a y initiate policies we w a n t to p r o m o t e or be glad of policies others have initiated. All this is obscured if we say that, of necessity, every institution is coercive. If we tried to find a context which would give Berger's words some application, it would be t h a t of someone, born out of time, to w h o m all the institutions are coercive. But it is grotesque to offer an analysis which would fit an extreme case as the analysis of all cases of institutional life. T h e s a m e confusion arises w h e n Berger says that all institutions are limited. H e also says, ' I t is impossible to u n d e r s t a n d an institution a d e q u a t e l y without an u n d e r s t a n d i n g of the historical process in which it was p r o d u c e d . ' " Yet it is ahistorical to call an institution limited, in a pejorative sense, because it is limited to (in the sense of belonging to) a certain time a n d place. All institutions are subject to the limits of time a n d place, so t h a t is not w h a t we m e a n w h e n we distinguish between great institutions, a n d limited or n a r r o w institutions. O n c e again, a metaphysical abstraction obscures the o r d i n a r y distinctions we make. Yet Berger's story needs to e m p h a s i s e t h a t m a n the radical inventor h a s become the victim of coercion, for this enables its third stage to develop by asking w h y m a n has allowed this to h a p p e n . Berger replies, ' W h a t lies at the b o t t o m of this a p p a r e n t l y inevitable pressure t o w a r d s consensus is p r o b a b l y a p r o f o u n d h u m a n desire to be accepted, p r e s u m a b l y by w h a t e v e r g r o u p is a r o u n d to d o the accepting.' 1 2 O n c e again, this description would be familiar e n o u g h in a specific context. A n individual m a y w a n t to belong to some g r o u p or other a n d he does not care which. H e simply w a n t s to be accepted by ' w h a t e v e r g r o u p is a r o u n d to do the accepting'. W e recognise the p h e n o m e n o n . B u t it is a b s u r d to offer t h a t as a n analysis of all our e n g a g e m e n t s in social affairs. People do not have c o m m o n interests in o r d e r to have c o m m o n bonds. T h e i r interests are their bonds. Since he c a n n o t recognise this, Berger h a s to search for a motive for m a n ' s desire to belong. T h e fourth stage of the story provides this motive. M a n desires to belong because he is protected by an ordered a n d m e a n i n g f u l

life. Berger says, 'every nomos is a n area of m e a n i n g carved out of a vast mass of meaninglessness, a small clearing of lucidity in a formless, d a r k , always o m i n o u s jungle'. 1 3 Berger concludes, 'to live in the social world is to live an ordered a n d m e a n i n g f u l life'. 1 4 Again, the a b s t r a c t identification 'living in the social world' with 'living an ordered a n d m e a n i n g f u l life', obscures more t h a n it illuminates. T h e m e a n i n g f u l a n d the social c a n n o t be identified. Family relationships have their c h a r a c t e r within the social institution of the family, but those relationships m a y be destructive as well as constructive; they m a y tear a p a r t as well as bind together. Again, if the social entailed the ordered a n d the meaningful, one would have to say t h a t the b a n k r u p t b u s i n e s s m a n w h o c o m m i t s suicide, whose distress is unintelligible a p a r t f r o m social factors, has lived an ordered a n d m e a n i n g f u l life. Similar difficulties arise w h e n Berger tries to identify 'being social' with 'being sane' a n d to say t h a t to live a social life is to live a sane life. Sometimes, w h e n he speaks of the contrast between sanity a n d insanity, Berger m e a n s to contrast m a n as a languageuser a n d the state he might have been in h a d he h a d no l a n g u a g e at all. But this contrast does not have a bearing on the o t h e r contexts in which Berger w a n t s to talk a b o u t the threat of life a p p e a r i n g meaningless. Living a social life is no protection, as such, against these threats. O n the contrary, the threats only have their m e a n i n g in t h a t very context. M y disorders, troubles, e t c , are unintelligible a p a r t from the social activities a n d personal relationships I a m involved in. So it will not do to say, 'Seen in the perspective of the individual, every nomos represents the bright " d a y s i d e " of life, tenuously held onto against the sinister s h a d o w s of the " n i g h t " ,' 15 So far f r o m the social world of m e n having the function of staving off n i g h t m a r e s , it gives to such n i g h t m a r e s the only sense they could have. It will not d o to say t h a t ' t h e individual is provided by society with various m e t h o d s to stave off the n i g h t m a r e world of a n o m y a n d to stay within the safe b o u n d a r i e s of the established nomos', 1 6 since, b u t for society a n d the established nomos, there would not be a n y t h i n g to stave off. So far, we have encountered four metaphysical a b s t r a c t i o n s in Berger's sociological story: m a n the inventor of m e a n i n g s becomes coerced by his own meanings d u e to his desire to be accepted by a group, an acceptance which provides h i m with protection against anomy. As we have seen, it is possible, for the most p a r t , to find

situations w h e r e the abstractions can be g r o u n d e d a n d transformed into specific descriptions, descriptions which apply to these situations, but not to others. But, of course, t h a t is not w h a t Berger takes himself to be doing in telling us his story. H e is claiming, as we have seen, to be giving us a l a n g u a g e 'which reflects w h a t people " k n o w " as "reality" in their everyday nonor pre-theoretical lives'. 1 7 T h e story is supposed to be g r o u n d e d in the c o m m o n s e n s e which philosophy distorts. W h a t in fact is h a p p e n i n g is t h a t Berger's story itself obscures o u r o r d i n a r y world f r o m us a n d becomes an obstacle to any u n d e r s t a n d i n g of it. T h i s fact can be illustrated by asking w h a t place can be given to values in terms of the story we have heard so far. It is clear that, for Berger, values have become organisational concepts. W h e t h e r something is of value is discussed in terms of its leading to personal integration or social solidarity. U l t i m a t e l y , such discussion c a n n o t a c c o m m o d a t e the concept of value at all. W h e t h e r organisation at a n individual or social level is w o r t h while d e p e n d s on its character, not simply on its efficacy. T o say that something is moral simply because it belongs to some form of organisation can never be a m o d e of vindication, let alone a final vindication. In these m a t t e r s , the values are p r i m a r y , a p r i m a c y in terms of which any form of organisation would be subject to an additional moral, political or religious m o d e of discrimination. F r o m a certain psychological perspective, beliefs a n d values are seen as the m e a n s by which an individual achieves the integration of his personality. According to such a p o p u l a r psychological ethic, an ethic to be f o u n d in Berger's story, personal integration, feeling comfortable with oneself, is w h a t is of p r i m a r y i m p o r t a n c e . O f course, the r e q u i r e m e n t s of this ethic are satisfied by the well-integrated rogue a n d mediocrity of m a n y kinds. T h e r e is no room in such a n ethic for the notion of a goodness which is out of reach, or of a grace one might stand in need of. F l a n n e r y O ' C o n n o r reacted robustly to such an ethic: T h e r e is a question w h e t h e r faith can or is supposed to be emotionally satisfying. I m u s t say t h a t the t h o u g h t of everyone lolling a b o u t in an emotionally satisfying faith is r e p u g n a n t to me. I believe t h a t we a r e ultimately directed G o d w a r d b u t t h a t the j o u r n e y is often i m p e d e d by emotion. 1 8 Religion is not a function of integrated emotions. O n the contrary, emotions are subject to the d e m a n d s of faith.

Similar difficulties arise if, f r o m a sociological perspective, we say t h a t beliefs a n d values a r e the m e a n s by which social solidarity is achieved. N o concern with good a n d evil can give p r i m a c y to rules of association as such. T o allow such p r i m a c y is to stay at the level of m a n n e r s , where no space can be found for good or evil, grace or mystery. T h i s is a level at which we are content with relativistic j u d g e m e n t s a b o u t the customs, practices a n d values we see a r o u n d us. W e are content with saying t h a t according to one group, s u c h - a n d - s u c h is of value, b u t t h a t according to a n o t h e r group, s o m e t h i n g else is of value. W i t h i n such relativities there is little room for mystery. T h e r e is no r o o m for the question, ' W h a t is of value?' O n c e again, F l a n n e r y O ' C o n n o r will not allow such questions to be put aside. She says, in her typically forthright m a n n e r : ' M y s t a n d a r d is: w h e n in R o m e , do as you d o n e in Milledgeville.' 1 9 W r i t i n g to J o h n H a w k e s , she says, Y o u say one becomes 'evil' w h e n one leaves the herd. I say t h a t d e p e n d s on w h a t the herd is doing. T h e herd has been known to be right, in which case the one w h o leaves it is doing evil. W h e n the herd is wrong, the one w h o leaves it is not doing evil but the right thing. If I r e m e m b e r rightly, you p u t t h a t word, evil, in q u o t a t i o n m a r k s which m e a n s the s t a n d a r d s you j u d g e it by are relative: in fact you would be looking at it there with the eyes of the herd. 2 0 I t is interesting to note Berger's use of q u o t a t i o n m a r k s too. So far, in his story, a n d it is a m a t t e r I shall not p u r s u e f u r t h e r , he has spoken of 'real', 'know', 'reality', 'knowledge', 'ideas', 'dayside', 'night'. Are these words being used in a special sense? H a r d l y . T h e y are supposed to shed light on our o r d i n a r y senses of these terms. Yet Berger's use of q u o t a t i o n m a r k s indicates t h a t he is half-aware t h a t he is deviating f r o m our n o r m a l usage a n d meanings. U n f o r t u n a t e l y half-awareness proves to be insufficient to deter him f r o m continuing his story in such a way t h a t the difficulties we have already m e t are c o m p o u n d e d . W h e n I chose the title of this c h a p t e r I deliberately included a b a r b a r i s m in the word 'sociologising'. T h i s is because the fate of values in Berger's analysis is akin to the fate of conversation in R o r t y ' s hermeneutics: they are vulgarised. Berger's sociological story is one in which, as we have seen, m a n , after his invention of language, is quickly imprisoned by it

a n d its meanings. T h i s i m p r i s o n m e n t is not irksome to him because he has a d e e p desire to be accepted by some g r o u p or other. T h i s sense of belonging protects h i m f r o m a n o m y . W e have seen w h a t h a p p e n s to any concept of value on this analysis. Yet, surely, it m a y be said, Berger is a w a r e of the m y r i a d ways in which criticism goes on in a society. H o w does social c h a n g e occur if his all too static story is accepted? T h e a n s w e r is that Berger is indeed a w a r e of criticism a n d change, b u t he analyses t h e m in such a way that the m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s we have already encountered are c o m p o u n d e d . For Berger, as we have seen, giving oneself to certain m o v e m e n t s a n d institutions is analysed in terms of an expression of a desire for security a n d protection. It is not surprising, therefore, to find h i m characterising criticisms of m o v e m e n t s a n d institutions as threats to the status quo, a n d answers to such criticisms as legitimations of the status quo. W e a r e told t h a t legitimations a r e w h a t pass for knowledge in a social collectivity, a n d t h a t they have the function of defending a n d obscuring the i n h e r e n t fragility of the nomos being questioned. ' L e t the institutional o r d e r be so interpreted as to hide as m u c h as possible, its constructed c h a r a c t e r . Let t h a t which h a s been s t a m p e d out of the g r o u n d ex nihilo a p p e a r as the manifestation of something t h a t has been existent f r o m the beginning of time, or at least f r o m the beginning of this group.' 2 1 O n c e again, Berger's metaphysical abstraction leaves no r o o m for familiar distinctions which we d r a w . For example, we distinguish, in various ways, between reasons a n d rationalisations, b u t , on Berger's analysis, reasons are rationalisations. Again, we are a c q u a i n t e d with the specific circumstances which give Berger's analysis its surface plausibility. G e n u i n e criticisms of institutions m a y a n d have r u n into a blank wall of protectiveness. T h e p h e n o m e n o n is a well-known one, a n d K a f k a a n d Solzhenitsyn have shown us h o w sinister a n d soul-destroying t h a t lack of response can be. As usual, however, Berger robs this real p h e n o m e n o n of its force by t r a n s f o r m i n g it into a metaphysical theory a b o u t social m o v e m e n t s a n d institutions as such. W h a t does he m a k e of traditions which are themselves critical by n a t u r e — science or philosophy, for example? Q u e s t i o n s c a n n o t t h r e a t e n such traditions, since they are a condition of their c o n t i n u a n c e . Even where criticism is f o r b i d d e n , we c a n n o t leap to the conclusion t h a t this is a device to protect the fragility of w h a t c a n n o t be criticised. Criticism of a saga m a y be f o r b i d d e n because of the status of the saga. It m a y be t h o u g h t to express eternal t r u t h s .

O n e is asked either to come to terms with these truths, or to be estranged f r o m them. T h e y are not there to be b a r g a i n e d with, not because they are fragile a n d this needs to be covered u p s o m e h o w or other, but because b a r g a i n i n g is ruled out by their g r a m m a r as eternal truths. W h a t of the m a n w h o does not criticise his place in an institution, but finds himself in it? Berger does not allow this possibility. H e thinks that a m a n w h o identifies himself with such a role, is necessarily in bad faith: ' T h e professor p u t t i n g on an act that pretends to wisdom comes to feel wise. T h e p r e a c h e r finds himself believing w h a t he preaches. T h e soldier discovers m a r t i a l stirrings in his breast as he puts on his uniform.' 2 2 W e have no difficulty in recognising these examples, b u t we are able to recognise t h e m only because we are also a w a r e of w h a t they a r e trying to distort. T h e y c a n n o t be the whole story. T h i s is not to d e n y that some forms of b a d faith, such as the desire for social esteem or flattery, need not be distortions of anything. T h e desire for flattery m a y be a primitive one. Berger, however, is c o m m i t t e d to the view that to be a b s o r b e d in an activity is necessarily a form of b a d faith. Berger is not saying t h a t a b s o r p t i o n in a role is the result of deliberate play-acting: Deliberate deception requires a degree of psychological selfcontrol t h a t few people are c a p a b l e of. T h a t is w h y insincerity is r a t h e r a rare p h e n o m e n o n . M o s t people are sincere, because this is the easiest course to take psychologically ... Sincerity is the consciousness of the m a n w h o is taken in by his own act. O r as it has been p u t by David R i e s m a n , the sincere m a n is the one w h o believes in his own propaganda.23 T h e analogy t h r o u g h o u t Invitation to Sociology is with the theatre: a m a n is more t h a n his roles, j u s t as a n actor is m o r e t h a n his parts. T h e analogy does not hold. An actor has a life a p a r t f r o m all the p a r t s he plays. Even here, of course, an actor m a y say t h a t acting is his life, but, then, he is not acting w h e n he says that. Again, we c a n often distinguish between a m a n w h o conforms to, or plays at, being this or that, a n d a m a n w h o gives himself to it a n d in so doing becomes as m u c h p a r t of it as it is p a r t of him. Berger seems to think t h a t individuality is preserved w h e n all such activities a n d relations are stripped away, whereas, in fact,

this would destroy the conditions of its possibility. Similar conclusions are arrived at if we look at two f u r t h e r concepts which play an i m p o r t a n t role in Berger's sociological story: the concept of alienation a n d the the concept of h u m a n liberation. W h a t is Berger's definition of alienation? H e says, ' T h e essence of all alienation is the imposition of a fictitious inexorability u p o n the h u m a n l y constructed world' by which 'choices become destiny'. 2 4 I n criticism of my earlier r e m a r k s a b o u t the b a n k r u p t w h o c o m m i t s suicide, it might be said t h a t I a m insensitive to the fact t h a t the poor devil w h o goes out of the w i n d o w is coerced by the institutions within which he h a s his being, a n d which give to his life the only order he thinks is available to him. Is he not precisely Berger's alienated m a n w h o thinks, mistakenly, t h a t a social construct is a n inescapable fact? H e kills himself because within the p a r a m e t e r s of the institutions which define his reality, he h a s only one option open to him: total rejection a n d the loss of m e a n i n g a n d order. T h i s total rejection he sees as a necessary consequence of his social destruction — his b a n k r u p t c y . 2 5 But, of course, it is no p a r t of my case to d e n y that a m a n m a y be w r o n g in d e n y i n g t h a t he h a s no alternatives open to him. I n fact, it is the very generality of Berger's analysis which robs such specific instances of their point. For him, a m a n is always in b a d faith if he thinks t h a t no choices a r e o p e n to him. By e m b r a c i n g such a thesis, Berger divorces the concept of responsibility f r o m t h a t of necessity. O n his view, responsibilities m a y be p u t aside w h e n disaster threatens. Such a generalised policy would surely not be called responsible at all. Berger tells us t h a t the faithful h u s b a n d m a y tell himself t h a t he h a s 'no choice' b u t to ' p r o g r a m m e ' his sexual activity in accordance with his m a r i t a l role, suppressing any lustful alternatives as 'impossibilities' ... O r again, the faithful executioner m a y tell himself t h a t he h a s ' n o choice' b u t to follow the ' p r o g r a m m e ' of h e a d - c h o p p i n g , suppressing both the emotional a n d m o r a l inhibitions (compassion a n d scruples, say) to this course of action, which he posits as inexorable necessity for himself qua executioner. 2 6 T h e indiscriminate n a t u r e of Berger's analysis can be seen in the way he r u n s together the example of the executioner w h o w a n t s to evade his responsibility, a n d the h u s b a n d for w h o m infidelity

is not an option. O n Berger's analysis, both have to be seen as the p r o d u c t s of alienation. T h i s is deeply confused. T h e refusal to regard infidelity as an option is itself an expression of the m o r a l perspective the h u s b a n d embraces. H i s a d h e r e n c e need have nothing to do with the threat of a n o m y or with the fear of conscience which Berger often discusses as though it were no m o r e t h a n a fear of emotional d i s t u r b a n c e . It is Berger, not the h u s b a n d , w h o is blind to possibilities, namely, the possibility of a moral perspective having a n absolute claim on an individual. Berger thinks such absolute claims are confused because 'the plurality of social worlds in m o d e r n society' implies t h a t 'the structures of each p a r t i c u l a r world are experienced as relatively u n s t a b l e a n d unreliable'. 2 7 W e have already seen, in our discussions of epistemology, that the possibility, or even actuality, of different ways of doing things, different ways of thinking, need not lead us to d o u b t our ways of t h o u g h t a n d behaviour. W h a t is shown is that our ways of proceeding are not u n d e r p i n n e d by any kind of metaphysical necessity. N o d o u b t Berger would agree with this latter point but in his thinking it leads to the equally metaphysical view t h a t 'Sociology uncovers the infinite precariousness of all socially assigned identities.' 2 8 N o m o r e t h a n in the epistemological case m u s t it follow that, noting the mere existence of values other t h a n his own, a m a n m u s t experience his own as relatively u n s t a b l e or unreliable. O n the contrary, his allegiance to his own values m a y be strengthened, a n d he m a y c o m b a t the others in a fight which, for him, will be informed a n d instructed by the perspective he embraces. W e have already seen, in Berger's sociological story, t h a t the a b s o r p t i o n in pervasive social perspectives is explained in terms of the desire to be protected against a n o m y . Such protection is said to be the function of the perspective. A m o n g perspectives, religion is one of the p r i m e agents of alienation, since it makes a m a n think that the religious o r d e r is fixed a n d u n c h a n g i n g . Since that order is m e a n t to speak to the whole world, religion becomes for Berger, ' t h e a u d a c i o u s a t t e m p t to conceive of the entire universe as being h u m a n l y significant'. 2 9 H o w is this a u d a c i o u s a t t e m p t to succeed? Berger replies, ' T h e f u n d a m e n t a l " r e c i p e " of religious legitimation is the t r a n s f o r m a t i o n of h u m a n p r o d u c t s into s u p r a - or n o n - h u m a n facticities. T h e h u m a n l y m a d e world is explained in terms that deny its h u m a n p r o d u c t i o n . ' 3 0 O n c e again, as in the other examples we have considered, this analysis impoverishes a n d distorts the values which a r e present

in religious perspectives. For example, instead of asking w h a t might be m e a n t by saying t h a t G o d r e m e m b e r s w h e n m e n have forgotten, an e n q u i r y which would involve looking at the roles this r e m a r k plays in people's lives, Berger simply says t h a t the reference to G o d is a protective device against the precariousness of h u m a n memories. 3 ' In his analysis, the religious fear of sinning against G o d , becomes the extreme form of sanction against any form of enquiry, a n d the loss of the strongest f o r m of protection against a n o m y : ' T o go against the order of society is always to risk p l u n g i n g into a n o m y . T o go against the order of society as religiously legitimated, however, is to m a k e a c o m p a c t with the primeval forces of darkness.' 3 2 N o one would d e n y t h a t the examples Berger gives have application: they are deviations a n d distortions of religious ideas. B u t Berger does not offer t h e m as examples. O n the contrary, the l a n g u a g e of the deviant cases is offered as the analysis of s t a n d a r d religious concepts. T h i s becomes patently obvious once Berger begins to offer m o r e detailed instances of w h a t he takes religious belief to be. H e j o i n s t h a t chorus of voices w h o see in religious belief little m o r e t h a n a craving for comfort a n d shelter. Berger could m a k e n o t h i n g of the insistence of someone like Simone Weil w h o points out t h a t dying to the desire for c o m p e n s a t i o n is a necessary precondition of coming to see how events in one's life can be seen as the will of G o d w h o sends rain on the j u s t a n d the u n j u s t . It is not t h a t Berger is u n a c q u a i n t e d with such ideas, but, to m a k e t h e m fit his sociological story, he gives t h e m grotesque analyses. For example, the acceptance of suffering is seen as a masochistic s u r r e n d e r of the self in the other, d u e to fear of loneliness. J u s t imagine offering t h a t as the explanation of the life of someone like St J o h n of the Cross. In Berger's h a n d s it would become a life of s u b l i m a t e d self-interest. H e r e is w h a t he makes of s u r r e n d e r to G o d : T h e ' I a m n o t h i n g — H e is everything' now becomes e n h a n c e d by the empirical unavailability of the other to w h o m the masochistic s u r r e n d e r is m a d e . After all, one of the i n h e r e n t difficulties of m a s o c h i s m in h u m a n relations is t h a t the o t h e r m a y not play the sadistic role to satisfaction. — T h e sadistic fellowman m a y refuse or forget to be properly all-powerful, or m a y simply be i n c a p a b l e of pulling off the act. Even if he succeeds in being something of a credible master for a while, he r e m a i n s vulnerable, limited, m o r t a l — in fact r e m a i n s h u m a n . T h e sadistic god is not h a n d i -

c a p p e d by these empirical imperfections. H e r e m a i n s invulnerable, infinite, i m m o r t a l by definition. T h e s u r r e n d e r to h i m is ipso facto protected f r o m the contingencies a n d uncertainties of merely social masochism — for ever. 3 3 Yet, having concentrated on religion as the p r i m e agent of alienation, Berger also insists, in passing, t h a t religion can also legitimise de-alienation. I n the Biblical tradition the c o n f r o n t a t i o n of the social order with the majesty of the t r a n s c e n d e n t G o d m a y also relativize this o r d e r to such an extent t h a t one m a y validly speak of de-alienation — in the sense t h a t , before the face of G o d , the institutions are revealed as n o t h i n g but human works, devoid of inherent sanctity or immortality. 3 4 T r u e enough, b u t to see w h a t this comes to, religious l a n g u a g e m u s t be explored. T h e difficulty is t h a t the m a i n e m p h a s e s of that l a n g u a g e have been analysed by Berger in terms of the effects of an alienating agency. For this reason, Berger's disclaimer w h e n he says, ' W e would also e m p h a s i z e very strongly t h a t religion need not necessarily entail b a d faith', 3 5 does not carry a great deal of conviction. H a v i n g seen w h a t Berger m e a n s by alienation, w h a t account does he give of h u m a n liberation? H e gives at least two accounts. T h e first is psychological in c h a r a c t e r . W e simply find ourselves m a k i n g absolute j u d g e m e n t s in face of evil monstrosities. Berger finds this fact curious since, he claims, within a scientific f r a m e of reference, we have to say of these j u d g e m e n t s , 'Well, we m a y not like this at all, we m a y be o u t r a g e d or appalled, b u t t h a t is only because we come f r o m a certain b a c k g r o u n d a n d h a v e been socialized into certain values.' 3 6 But do we have to say this? Obviously we m u s t come into contact with values before we can come to have a regard for t h e m , b u t , as we have already seen, there is a n i m p o r t a n t difference between m a k i n g these values one's own a n d simply conforming to them; a difference which will show in the role the values play in a person's life. Because Berger does not see the i m p o r t a n c e of this distinction, he is s o m e w h a t puzzled as to why we do not w a n t to speak of our reactions to evil monstrosities in relativistic terms. All he can say is, ' T h e imperative to save a child f r o m m u r d e r , even at the cost of killing the p u t a t i v e m u r d e r e r , a p p e a r s to be curiously i m m u n e to

relativizing analysis.' 3 7 But there is n o t h i n g to be curious a b o u t if we reject Berger's analysis. Berger's second, a n d m a i n , account of the n a t u r e of h u m a n liberation is sociological in character, a n d far more in keeping with the general tenor of his analysis. M a n frees himself f r o m alienation by seeing t h a t there are no absolute claims on us; he breaks t h r o u g h to a Machiavellian u n d e r s t a n d i n g . ' I t is as relief from social d e t e r m i n i s m t h a t we would explain the s y m p a t h y t h a t we frequently feel for the swindler, the impostor or the c h a r l a t a n ... T h e s e figures symbolize a social Machiavellianism t h a t u n d e r s t a n d s society thoroughly a n d then, u n t r a m m e l l e d by illusions, finds a way of m a n i p u l a t i n g society for its own ends.' 3 8 But now t h e liberated m a n seems to be no more t h a n a n unprincipled opportunist: ' O n l y he w h o u n d e r s t a n d s the rules of the g a m e is in a position to cheat.' 3 9 Berger is a w a r e t h a t his analysis m i g h t be t h o u g h t to lead to cynicism, a n d he tries to d r a w back f r o m this consequence: 'Let no one quickly j u m p to the conclusion that such an a m b i t i o n is always ethically reprehensible. T h a t d e p e n d s , after all, on how one evaluates the ethical status of the system in question.' 4 0 T h i s escape route is not open to Berger, since he c a n n o t reintroduce morality into his analysis to get him out of his difficulties, having already said at an earlier stage of his analysis that ' A n o t h e r system of social control t h a t exerts its pressures t o w a r d s the solitary figure in the centre is that of morality, custom a n d m a n n e r s . ' 4 1 T h e figure at the centre is solitary indeed, a n d Berger has to a d m i t on his analysis that ' T h e concept of the naked self, beyond institutions a n d roles as the ens realissimum of h u m a n being, is at the very h e a r t of modernity.' 4 2 But is this 'self the liberated m a n or the alienated rootless m a n ? Berger w a n t s to claim that there is 'a h u m a n i t y behind or b e n e a t h the roles a n d n o r m s imposed by society, a n d t h a t this h u m a n i t y h a s p r o f o u n d dignity'. 4 3 But w h e r e is this to be found? Berger's a n s w e r is in terms of the individual's choice. 'For instance, it is possible to be fully a w a r e of the relativity a n d the precariousness of the ways by which m e n organize their sexuality, a n d yet c o m m i t oneself absolutely to one's own marriage. Such c o m m i t m e n t , however, does not require any ontological u n d e r pinnings. It d a r e s to choose a n d to act.' 4 4 Choice will not play the role Berger assigns to it. Choice m u s t be informed. T h e act of choice c a n n o t in itself create w h a t is w o r t h while, since unless one h a d some conception of w h a t is w o r t h while the occasion for

choice w o u l d n o t arise. By p l a c i n g t h e self b e y o n d e v e r y t h i n g w h i c h could i n f o r m its choices, B e r g e r c a n n o t r e i n t r o d u c e choice as t h e a c t w h i c h b e s t o w s h u m a n i t y a n d d i g n i t y on a p e r s o n ' s convictions. T h e r e a r e times w h e n B e r g e r s e e m s to realise this. I n fact, his sociological story t u r n s full circle a n d e n d s in c o n t r a d i c t i o n . A t t h e b e g i n n i n g of the story w e w e r e told t h a t to be a l i e n a t e d w a s to find o n e ' s i d e n t i t y w i t h i n i n s t i t u t i o n s a n d r e l a t i o n s h i p s a n d to see it as s o m e k i n d of necessity in o n e ' s life. T o be free f r o m s u c h a l i e n a t i o n is to see t h a t t h e r e a r e n o s u c h necessities. L i b e r a t i o n f r o m a l i e n a t i o n consists in sheer choice. C o n s e q u e n t l y , a t t h e e n d of the story, t h e self, w h i c h is n o w s u p p o s e d to be free, is p l a c e d b e y o n d all i n s t i t u t i o n s a n d r e l a t i o n s h i p s . B u t , B e r g e r says, w h e n this is d o n e , ' " a l i e n a t i o n " is t h e p r i c e of i n d i v i d u a t i o n ' . 4 5

Notes 1. Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann, The Social Construction of Reality (Penguin Books, Harmondsworth, Middx, 1966), p. 27. 2. I b i d , p. 14. 3. I b i d , pp. 210-11. 4. Peter Berger, The Social Reality of Religion (Penguin Books, Harmondsworth, Middx, 1973), p. 19. 5. Ibid. 6. Peter Berger, Invitation to Sociology (Penguin Books, Harmondsworth, Middx, 1975), p. 53. 7. Berger, The Social Reality of Religion, p. 21. 8. Ibid. 9. Berger, The Social Construction of Reality, p. 72. 10. Berger, The Social Reality of Religion, p. 21. 11. Berger, The Social Construction of Reality, p. 72. 12. Berger, Invitation to Sociology, p. 87. 13. Berger, The Social Reality of Religion, p. 33. 14. I b i d , p. 30. 15. I b i d , p. 33. 16. Ibid. 17. Berger, The Social Construction of Reality, p. 27. 18. Flannery O'Connor, Letters of Flannery O'Connor: The Habit of Being, sel. and ed. Sally Fitzgerald (Vintage Books, Random House, New York, 1980), p. 100. 19. I b i d , p. 220. 20. I b i d , p. 456. 21. Berger, The Social Reality of Religion, p. 42. 22. Berger, Invitation to Sociology, p. 113. 23. I b i d , p. 127. 24. Berger, The Social Reality of Religion, pp. 101-2.

25. These criticisms were expressed by C.G. Prado, who commented on an earlier unpublished paper which concentrated entirely on Berger's The Social Reality of Religion, when it was read to the philosophical section of the annual meeting of the Canadian Learned Societies at the University of Laval in 1976. 26. Berger, The Social Reality of Religion, p. 99. 27. Peter Berger, Brigitte Berger and Hansfried Kellner, The Homeless Mind (Pelican Books, Harmondsworth, Middx, 1974), pp. 73-4. 28. Berger, Invitation to Sociology, p. 178. 29. Berger, The Social Reality of Religion, p. 37. 30. Ibid., p. 96. 31. Ibid., p. 49. 32. Ibid., p. 48. 33. Ibid., p. 65. 34. Ibid., p. 105. 35. Ibid., p. 101. 36. Peter Berger, A Rumour of Angels (Doubleday, New York, 1970), p. 66. 37. Ibid. 38. Berger, Invitation to Sociology, p. 155. 39. Ibid., p. 173. 40. Ibid. 41. Ibid., p. 90. 42. Berger et al., The Homeless Mind, p. 190. 43. Ibid., p. 83. 44. Berger, Invitation to Sociology, p. 180. 45. Berger et al., The Homeless Mind, p. 175.

14 Religion in the Marketplace

T h e sociological story Berger has told determines the account he gives of the problems facing religion in an increasingly secular culture. H e says that as a result of secularisation the m a n in the street, confronted by a r a n g e of options, does not know w h a t to believe. But, as we have seen, the individual w h o is the p r o d u c t of Berger's story cannot know w h a t to believe, since he has been reduced to sheer u n i n f o r m e d choice. As for the various movements, including religion, which c o m p e t e for the allegiance of individuals, the situation facing t h e m is said to be obvious: ' T h e pluralistic situation is, above all, a market situation.'' ' I n such a situation, all social m o v e m e n t s m a y be faced with the p r o b l e m of how to keep going in a milieu t h a t no longer takes for g r a n t e d their definitions of reality.' 2 I n so far as Berger is simply describing w h a t in fact m a y h a p p e n , a n d , indeed, w h a t has h a p p e n e d , no one could object to his analysis. But, then, from religious perspectives, criticisms will be m a d e of a t t e m p t s to a c c o m m o d a t e secularisation in various ways. Berger does not offer any language within which such criticism could be m a d e . O n the contrary, the l a n g u a g e of strategic a c c o m m o d a t i o n is offered as t h o u g h it were the only l a n g u a g e available to religion. His claim therefore is an a m b i t i o u s one: ' t h e crucial sociological a n d social-psychological characteristic of the pluralistic situation is t h a t religion can no longer be imposed but must be m a r k e t e d ' . 3 T w o confusions m u s t be noted in these a r g u m e n t s . First, a m o v e m e n t is not sustained by m a k i n g 'how to keep going' its aim. T h e r e is only talk of how to keep going w h e n things have already begun to fall a p a r t . A m o v e m e n t is strong w h e n its a d h e r e n t s are a b s o r b e d in its characteristic concerns. Believers say t h a t they a r e sustained by their faith. T h e sociological story gives the

believers the task of sustaining their faith. It is a kind of joke, after all, w h e n priests a n d ministers t h a n k people for a t t e n d i n g church! Second, if a m o v e m e n t tries to meet pressures f r o m other m o v e m e n t s in terms of p r a g m a t i c a c c o m m o d a t i o n , w h a t is distinctively its own will be destroyed. A pervasive consumerorientated mentality will be p r e p a r e d to sacrifice w h a t is distinctive in a n y m o v e m e n t . Yet Berger advocates policies which reflect precisely this mentality: T h e practical difficulties m u s t be met by m e a n s of 'social engineering' — in the a c c o m m o d a t i n g posture, reorganising the institution in o r d e r to m a k e it ' m o r e relevant' to the m o d e r n world; in the resisting posture, m a i n t a i n i n g or r e v a m p i n g the institution so as to serve as a viable plausibility s t r u c t u r e for reality-definitions that are not confirmed by the larger society. 4 O f course, there are real problems which face religion w h e n , of necessity, it comes into contact with other social m o v e m e n t s . But everything d e p e n d s on the religious significance of such contact. Berger reviews the various pacts he takes religion to have m a d e with secular t h o u g h t , but, once again, the trouble is that the l a n g u a g e at his disposal only allows h i m to give an external, p r a g m a t i c account of them. Berger sees the pacts as having been m a d e by the liberal theology which c a m e in Schleiermacher's wake a n d which Barth r e p u d i a t e d in his reassertion of G o d ' s objectivity. H e says, ' P u t a little crudely, the objectivity of the tradition having being defined as i n d e p e n d e n t of all these contingencies, " n o t h i n g can really h a p p e n " to the theologian.' 5 T h i s is more t h a n a little crude, since no effort is m a d e to see w h a t is at stake religiously. T h e r e is a d a n g e r , no d o u b t , in early B a r t h i a n i s m , of cutting religion off, too severely, f r o m all t h a t s u r r o u n d s it. But this is not a d a n g e r of failure to a c c o m m o d a t e secular rival m o v e m e n t s . R a t h e r , it is the d a n g e r of religion becoming a private, esoteric g a m e , the concepts of which are u n m e d i a t e d in the world a r o u n d it. T h e mediation of religious concepts is not an optional strategy, b u t the context in which religion informs the daily lives of believers. O n the other h a n d , B a r t h ' s r e p u d i a t i o n of liberalism h a d to do with his conviction that religion h a d been far too a c c o m m o d a t i n g to secular features of the s u r r o u n d i n g culture. I n s t e a d of j u d g i n g religion by its secular success, B a r t h insisted on the secular being b r o u g h t u n d e r

the j u d g e m e n t of the sacred. If B a r t h says that, by the grace of G o d , all will be well, he does not m e a n t h a t wordly misfortunes could not befall believers. H e knew, all too well, t h a t they could. W h a t he m e a n t was that, by the grace of G o d , such misfortunes would be met in terms of the F a i t h . Berger thinks t h a t the absolutism of neo-orthodoxy is very h a r d to m a i n t a i n , b u t his reason for thinking so is extremely o d d . H e says, ' t h e " o u t s i d e " world is attractive'. 6 Berger might have been m a k i n g the unobjectionable point t h a t religion c a n n o t exist by cutting itself off f r o m the world a n d p r e t e n d i n g t h a t its a t t r a c t i o n s do not exist. U n f o r t u n a t e l y , this is not w h a t he means. H e is saying t h a t worldliness is attractive. T h a t would h a r d l y be news to believers. W h a t would be news to t h e m is the suggestion t h a t the attractiveness of worldliness should be the very reason for a c c o m m o d a t i n g it! T h e impoverished language of his analysis does not allow h i m either to take account of the serious d o u b t s which m a y exist a b o u t co-operative developments within religion, such as the ecumenical m o v e m e n t . Berger's account is purely p r a g m a t i c . For h i m , the ecumenical m o v e m e n t is simply t h e 'increasingly friendly collaboration between the different g r o u p s engaged in the religious m a r k e t ' as ' d e m a n d e d by the pluralistic situation'. 7 B u t does the ecumenical m o v e m e n t flow f r o m religious convictions or p r a g m a t i c convenience? W i t h o u t a discussion of such issues, no p r o p e r account can be taken of the religious s u p p o r t or opposition to such a development. I n terms of his own analysis religious beliefs can be n o more t h a n Berger, himself, calls t h e m , namely, 'subjects of " f a s h i o n " ' . 8 As to co-operation between religion a n d o t h e r disciplines, for example, psychiatry or psychoanalysis, this, again, for Berger, seems to be a purely p r a g m a t i c m a t t e r . W h e n he gives an a c c o u n t of w h a t he takes to be the p u r p o s e a n d result of such a c c o m m o d a t i n g co-operation, the e x a m p l e is not encouraging: Psychologism, be it of a F r e u d i a n , n e o - F r e u d i a n , or J u n g i a n variety, allows the i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of religion as a 'symbol system' t h a t 'really' refers to psychological p h e n o m e n a . T h i s p a r t i c u l a r lesson has the great a d v a n t a g e , realized particularly in America, of legitimating religious activities as some sort of psychotherapy. 9 T h i s is a n excellent e x a m p l e of w h a t I m e a n by a n external

account which pays little critical attention to the concepts involved in religion, psychoanalysis or psychiatry, a n d to w h a t it is t h a t h a p p e n s if one tries to r u n t h e m into each other. C o n t r a s t with Berger's wildly general r e m a r k s the critical discussions of F r e u d by Wittgenstein, 1 0 or the discussions by M . O ' C . D r u r y in which psychiatry a n d religion bear on each other . " i n these discussions attention is paid to the g r a m m a r of the different concepts involved; something which Berger does not even e m b a r k on. It is not surprising to find such external accounts of concepts in Berger, since there are times w h e n he seems to take the passing a w a y of s t a n d a r d s a n d concepts as itself an indication of their lack of value: 'At best, h o n o u r a n d chastity are seen as ideological leftovers in the consciousness of obsolete classes, such as military officers or ethnic g r a n d m o t h e r s . ' 1 2 J . L . Austin once claimed that 'our c o m m o n stock of words embodies all the distinctions m e n have f o u n d w o r t h d r a w i n g a n d the connections they have found worth making, in the lifetime of m a n y generations'. 1 3 But it has been rightly pointed out that 'Austin gives no reason for ignoring the possibility t h a t some distinctions a n d connections which m i g h t be worth preserving have d i s a p p e a r e d . H o w does their d i s a p p e a r a n c e show they were not " w o r t h preserving"?' 1 4 Berger's analysis of value in terms of w h a t survives is close in spirit to the idea of value being e q u a t e d with whoever h a p p e n s to win the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation. Berger says, bluntly, ' H e w h o h a s the bigger stick h a s the better chance of imposing his definitions of reality.' 1 5 At other times, Berger himself recognises that 'A lot will d e p e n d , naturally, on one's basic a s s u m p t i o n s a b o u t m a n w h e t h e r one will b e m o a n or welcome these t r a n s f o r m a t i o n s . W h a t to one will a p p e a r as a p r o f o u n d loss will be seen by a n o t h e r as the prelude to liberation.' 1 6 Q u i t e so. Yet, such j u d g e m e n t s of gain a n d loss c a n n o t be appreciated in terms of the externalities of Berger's sociological story. T h e point is not to d e t e r m i n e w h a t is to constitute gain or loss, philosophy c a n n o t d e t e r m i n e t h a t any more t h a n sociology, b u t to see to it t h a t the philosophical or sociological analysis does not result in a l a n g u a g e which makes it h a r d to see w h a t discussions of gain or loss could a m o u n t to. I n Berger's story, for the most p a r t , s t a n d a r d s become strategies. T o see the kind of sense talk of gain a n d loss h a v e in these contexts, philosophy a n d sociology must wait on the m o r a l a n d religious perspectives in which such j u d g e m e n t s are m a d e , without imposing an alien analysis on them. T h u s w h e n Berger says, ' T h e a r g u m e n t in this book has moved strictly within the f r a m e of

reference of sociological theory. N o theological, or for t h a t m a t t e r , anti-theological implications are to be sought a n y w h e r e in the a r g u m e n t — if a n y o n e should believe such implications to be present, I can only assure h i m t h a t he is mistaken,' 1 7 the a s s u r a n c e is not enough. H e m a y have stayed within the confines of sociological theory, but it is the very l a n g u a g e of that theory which needs to be examined. I t is the l a n g u a g e of his sociological theory which leads Berger into f u r t h e r trouble when, h a v i n g surveyed all his options, he suddenly asks w h a t might be m e a n t by asking which of t h e m is true. Theorising as he is, after foundationalism, a n d having failed to do justice to the g r a m m a r s of m o r a l a n d religious discourse, Berger c a n n o t find ' t r u t h ' or 'absolute j u d g e m e n t s ' either in any c o m m o n rational basis underlying the practices he has spoken of, or in a n y specific concepts of t r u t h or absolute j u d g e m e n t within a n y of the practices themselves. As a result, we find him thinking t h a t some form of absolute t r u t h m u s t d e p e n d on finding some u n c h a n g i n g states of affairs a m o n g all the relativities. T h u s we find him w o n d e r i n g w h e t h e r these are 'prototypical h u m a n gestures t h a t a p p e a r timeless a n d t h a t m a y be considered as constants in history', 1 8 or w h e t h e r there is an 'intrinsic linkage between certain institutional processes a n d certain structures of consciousness'. 1 9 H a d Berger waited on the g r a m m a r of m o r a l a n d religious beliefs a n d explored w h a t talk of absolute c o m m i t m e n t s m e a n in those contexts, he would have seen t h e needlessness of asking these questions. H e would have seen, as F l a n n e r y O ' C o n n o r has said, t h a t w h e n we are invited to represent the c o u n t r y according to survey, w h a t we are asked to do is to separate mystery f r o m m a n n e r s a n d j u d g e m e n t s f r o m vision, in order to p r o d u c e something a little more p a l a t a b l e to the m o d e r n t e m p e r . W e are asked to form our consciences in the light of statistics, which is to establish the relative as absolute. 2 0 In the same way, he would not have to go searching for hints of religious realities. H e says, O n l y after the theologian h a s confronted the historical relativity of religion can he genuinely ask where in this history, it may, p e r h a p s , be possible to speak of discoveries — discoveries, that is, t h a t transcend the relative c h a r a c t e r

of their infrastructures. A n d only after he has really grasped w h a t it m e a n s to say t h a t religion is a h u m a n p r o d u c t or projection can he begin to search, within this a r r a y of projections, for w h a t m a y t u r n out to be signals of transcendence. 2 1 Given the analysis of ' t r a n s c e n d e n c e ' in the sociological story, it is difficult to see how a religious notion of it can be reintroduced in this way, at the end of the day. T h a t criticism a p a r t , the notion reintroduced is not in fact a religious one. Berger searches for hints w h e n all he needs is already provided in the concepts of a t r a n s c e n d e n t G o d in religious discourse. T h e s e concepts a r e not hints of transcendence, but expressions of the g r a m m a r of talk of transcendence, w h e r e G o d is concerned. N o d o u b t some m a y be torn between w h a t different traditions within a religion, or different religions, say a b o u t G o d . Even so, t h a t is to be torn a b o u t w h a t is said, a n d the p r o b l e m will be resolved or not resolved in terms of w h a t a person comes to think of the relations between traditions or religions. It is in that context t h a t an answer will or will not be found. If we say each context hints at a reality it does not exhaust, t h a t is itself a religious reaction to these contexts. A person m a y say t h a t they all have something to teach each other. If the different religious contexts, on the other h a n d , are r e g a r d e d as hints of a reality which none of t h e m possess, the notion of this reality becomes an idle one, having no application or g r a m m a r which can be explored or discussed. For Berger, the different practices have no discernible f o u n d a t i o n s which g u a r a n t e e their t r u t h . Neither does he wait on t h e m to explore w h a t they m e a n by a t r a n s c e n d e n t God. H e m u s t therefore rely on w h a t he calls 'hints of t r a n s c e n d e n c e ' to give application to concepts which, if he but realised it, are already given to him. T h e trouble is t h a t he does not wait on the concepts in m o r a l a n d religious practices. Berger himself provides the reason why: ' T h e sociologist will be driven time a n d again, by the very logic of his discipline, to d e b u n k the social systems he is studying.' 2 2 I n s t e a d of d e b u n k i n g t h e m , he should have waited on them. W e can recall that at the beginning of Berger's sociological story, he asserted t h a t the sociologist, s o m e w h a t surprisingly, inherited from the philosopher the question of the n a t u r e of reality. After foundationalism, the sociologist sees that the intelligibility of social practices c a n n o t be shown to d e p e n d on rational f o u n d a t i o n s or a logic which are supposed to be given, in some

sense or other, prior to the practices themselves. Reacting to foundationalism, Berger promised t h a t the sociologist of knowledge would concern himself 'with w h a t people " k n o w " as "reality" in their everyday, non-or pre-theoretical lives. I n other words, c o m m o n - s e n s e "knowledge" r a t h e r t h a n " i d e a s " m u s t be the central focus for the sociology of knowledge.' 2 3 Berger assures us, ' T h e sociologist tries to see w h a t is there. H e m a y have hopes or fears concerning w h a t he m a y find. But he will try to see regardless of his hopes or fears.' 2 4 But is this w h a t has h a p p e n e d ? W e have seen t h a t this is the last thing Berger has achieved. H i s analyses have a surface plausibility because they refer to situations in which m o r a l concepts, religious concepts, or a b s o r p t i o n in the values of certain movements, are distorted or deviated from. In Berger's analysis, the l a n g u a g e of deviation a n d distortion becomes the only language available to give a n account of the original concepts which are distorted or deviated from. Berger gives the following descriptions of his sociologist at work: the sociologist, b u t for the grace of his a c a d e m i c title, is the m a n w h o m u s t listen to gossip despite himself, w h o is t e m p t e d to look t h r o u g h keyholes, to read other people's mail, to open closed cabinets... W h a t interests us is the curiosity t h a t grips any sociologist in front of a closed door b e h i n d which there are h u m a n voices. If he is a good sociologist, he will w a n t to open t h a t door, to u n d e r s t a n d these voices. 2 3 A n d again: Sociological perspective can then be understood in terms of such phrases as 'seeing t h r o u g h ' , 'looking b e h i n d ' , very m u c h as such phrases would be employed in c o m m o n speech — 'seeing t h r o u g h his g a m e ' , 'looking b e h i n d the scenes' — in other words, 'being up on all the tricks'. 2 6 T h e difficulty with Berger's sociological story can be expressed as follows: it is indeed true t h a t we have the expressions, to which Berger refers, in c o m m o n speech. T h e i r use there, however, d e p e n d s on well-known contrasts. W h e n I look behind the scene, I find w h a t is the case, as distinct f r o m w h a t a p p e a r e d to be the case. W h e n I see through someone's g a m e or a m u p to all his

tricks, I see w h a t he is doing as distinct f r o m w h a t he w a n t e d m e to think he was doing. In short, these deceptions are logically parasitic on t r u t h . Berger's sociological story, however, c a n n o t a c c o m m o d a t e t r u t h or w h a t is the case, for it is precisely these concepts which are analysed in terms of deception. Berger c a n n o t tell us w h a t is behind the scene or w h a t trick is to be seen t h r o u g h , since the only language his story offers us is a l a n g u a g e of scenes a n d tricks. His story is necessarily incomplete, being logically parasitic on those very conceptions of values a n d t r u t h s which he c a n n o t give an account of. W h a t would Berger m a k e of these conceptual objections? I t is h a r d to say, since, for one so given to a c c o m m o d a t i o n s between different m o v e m e n t s in the culture, he is strangely reluctant to enter into a n y kind of dialogue with other disciplines. H e says that if a theologian were to find his r e m a r k s relevant, they would be relevant in his universe of discourse. O n the other h a n d , he says t h a t this does not m e a n that theology is i m m u n e f r o m observations in other disciplines, since, 'if the theologian asserts something t h a t can be shown to have never taken place historically or to have taken place in quite a different way f r o m w h a t he asserts, a n d if this assertion is essential to his position, then he can no longer be reassured t h a t he h a s n o t h i n g to fear f r o m the historian's work.' 2 7 But this cuts both ways. If having, by his own admission, taken over traditional philosophical questions, a sociologist's analysis is full of conceptual confusions, the sociologist can no longer reassure himself t h a t he has n o t h i n g to fear from a philosopher's work. Finally, it m a y be asked how a story which is conceptually confused can, nevertheless, be a d a n g e r o u s story, having a d a m a g i n g effect on the way we think philosophically a n d practically a b o u t the m a t t e r s it concerns itself with. In answering, I a d a p t w o r d s used by H a n n a Pitkin in replying to the s a m e question asked of Rationalism in politics: [ T h e sociological story] as an interpretation of w h a t we do is always wrong, because it is logically impossible to do w h a t [the sociological story] says we do. Yet people m a y — a n d m a n y do — believe in the t r u t h of this false, impossible doctrine a n d act on it. T h e result is not t h a t they act [out the story] for that is impossible, b u t that they act differently from people w h o believe otherwise... T h e r e is thus an identifiable a n d pernicious style... t h a t results f r o m

believing in the false d o c t r i n e of [the sociological s t o r y ] . T h a t is w h y [the believer in the story] m i s u n d e r s t a n d s w h a t h e is d o i n g , 'fails to recognise' t h e ' t r u e s p r i n g ' o f h i s activity. A c t i n g in accord with [ t h e sociological story] is i m p o s s i b l e , a c t i n g on it, u n f o r t u n a t e l y is not. 2 8 As B e r g e r says, ' n o n - e x i s t e n t sticks c a n d r a w real b l o o d . ' 2 9

Notes 1. Berger, The Social Reality of Religion, p. 142. 2. I b i d , p. 158. 3. I b i d , p. 148. 4. I b i d , p. 158. 5. I b i d , p. 162. 6. I b i d , p. 163. 7. I b i d , p. 140. 8. I b i d , p. 145. 9. I b i d , p. 167. 10. Wittgenstein, Lectures and Conversations. 11. M. O'C. Drury, The Danger of Words (Routledge and Kegan Paul, London, 1973). 12. Berger et al., The Homeless Mind, p. 78. 13. J . L . Austin, 'A Plea for Excuses' in J . O . Urmson and G.J. Warnock (eds) Philosophical Papers (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1961), p. 130. 14. Henry Le Roy Finch, Wittgenstein — the Later Philosophy (Humanities Press, Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey, 1977), p. 22 fn. 15. Berger, The Social Construction of Reality, p. 127. 16. Berger et al., The Homeless Mind, p. 87. 17. Berger, The Social Reality of Religion, p. 181. 18. Berger, A Rumour of Angels, p. 73. 19. Berger et al., The Homeless Mind, p. 159. 20. O'Connor, The Habit of Being, p. 100. 21. Berger, The Social Reality of Religion, p. 189. 22. Berger, Invitation to Sociology, p. 51. 23. Berger, The Social Construction of Reality, p. 27. 24. Berger, Invitation to Sociology, p. 16. 25. I b i d , p. 30. 26. I b i d , p. 42. 27. Berger, The Social Reality of Religion, p. 184. 28. H a n n a Fenichel Pitkin, 'The Roots of Conservatism', Dissent, Fall 1973, p. 503. 29. Berger, Invitation to Sociology, p. 185.

Part Three G r a m m a r and Theology H o w do I know t h a t two people m e a n the s a m e w h e n each says he believes in God? A n d j u s t the same goes for belief in the Trinity. A theology which insists on the use of certain particular words a n d phrases, a n d outlaws others, does not m a k e a n y t h i n g clearer ( K a r l B a r t h ) . It gesticulates with words, as one might say, because it w a n t s to say s o m e t h i n g a n d does not know how to express it. Practice gives the w o r d s their sense. Wittgenstein, Culture and Value

G r a m m a r and the Nature of Doctrine

So far, we have discussed three c l a i m a n t s to the succession to epistemological foundationalism: Reformed epistemology, philosophical hermeneutics, a n d Berger's conception of a sociology of knowledge. R u n n i n g t h r o u g h all our discussions has been the t r e a t m e n t of a recurring m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g : the a s s u m p t i o n t h a t the language in which we m a k e j u d g e m e n t s regarding w h a t is true or false, is itself a description of the n a t u r e of reality. T h e persistence of this m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g d e t e r m i n e s the form which reactions to foundationalism have taken. In the absence of an a d e q u a t e criterion of basicality by m e a n s of which it can be shown that our practices a n d beliefs are well f o u n d e d , it has been said, either that we simply rely on faith that they are well f o u n d e d , or t h a t the beliefs a n d practices are reduced to the level of relativities where the status of notions such as 'knowledge' a n d ' t r u t h ' b e c o m e problematic. In these reactions, one philosophical theory is succeeded by another. W h a t is not realised is that w h a t we need is not a n o t h e r , better, theory to succeed foundationalism, b u t no theory at all. Instead of calling my r e m a r k s Faith After Foundationalism, they could equally well have been called Against Theory. Yet, it m u s t not be t h o u g h t t h a t w h e n such theories are put aside our difficulties are over. It m a y be the case t h a t theologians a n d philosophers m a y use the very notion of g r a m m a r which has featured large in our criticisms of theories, a n d construct a n o t h e r kind of theory a r o u n d it. T h e y m a y think that the notion of g r a m m a r in Wittgenstein can itself be used to d e t e r m i n e the direction in which theological doctrines should develop. I n this way, Wittgenstein's observation r e g a r d i n g theology as g r a m m a r , can itself become the h a n d m a i d of a particular theological

development. T o see how this has come a b o u t in one influential theologian, it is necessary, first of all, to see how the notion of g r a m m a r does throw light on the n a t u r e of theological doctrine. In his book The Nature of Doctrine,1 we learn t h a t George Lindbeck has been engaged in ecumenical discussions for 25 years. Like others, he is disappointed, even a s h a m e d , of the slow progress which has been m a d e . W h e n we think of the complex relations between theological speculation a n d the wider c h u r c h c o m m u n i ties, such slow progress m a y not surprise us, depressing t h o u g h it m a y be for ecumenical enthusiasts. Peter W i n c h has emphasised t h a t the traffic between theology a n d these wider constituents is by no means one way: Theological doctrines are not developed i n d e p e n d e n t l y of their possibilities of application in the worship a n d religious lives of believers; a n d these latter have a certain, t h o u g h not complete, a u t o n o m y . I m e a n t h a t if a doctrine were felt by believers to be hostile to their practices of p r a y e r a n d worship, t h a t would create a difficulty for the theological doctrine itself. I emphasise t h a t the traffic goes in both directions a n d there is give a n d take. Believers' attitudes t o w a r d s worship m a y be modified u n d e r the pressure of priests, for example, w h o in their t u r n a r e influenced by the theological doctrines in which they a r e trained in their c h u r c h . B u t the a t t i t u d e of priests t o w a r d s theological doctrines m a y also be affected by the resistances they e n c o u n t e r in the attitudes t o w a r d w o r s h i p a m o n g their flocks. O f course, not all believers (or priests) will react in the s a m e way, a n d thus arise possibilities of schism a n d heresy. 2 W i n c h ' s p u r p o s e in e m p h a s i s i n g these complexities is to disabuse us of a simplistic picture in which religious practices a r e f o u n d e d on the t r u t h of theological doctrines, the latter being given in isolation, u n m e d i a t e d in the life of worship. W h e n we think of these complexities, we m u s t also r e m e m b e r t h a t they are repeated in different religious traditions a n d d e n o m i n a t i o n s . W e have to r e m e m b e r too, that, for m a n y , the tradition in which they find themselves is, to a large extent, an accident, their sense of the original religious reasons for separation having eroded long ago or never h a v i n g been a reality for them. T h i s has serious implications, obviously, for the possibility of informed discussion. Progress m a y be dictated m o r e by convenience t h a n conviction.

A d m i n i s t r a t i v e a n d economic pressures m a y weigh more t h a n religious a n d theological considerations. O t h e r intrusions m a y also complicate matters. Philosophical a n d other theories m a y influence ecumenical discussion. T h e s e theories m a y have a m b i t i o n s to refine, revise, or even replace the p r i m a r y languages of faith. As if all this were not enough, it c a n n o t be forgotten t h a t these factors occur in a pervasively secular culture. I n w h a t I have said so far, I h a v e described an audience which is familiar. Someone with sufficient skill could give a fascinating account of a t t e m p t s to conduct an ecumenical discussion in such a context. H e would need to be the William J a m e s of the varieties of ecumenical discussion. His would be no static s u m m a r y of the different traditions or endless p a r a d e of c o m m i t t e e resolutions. R a t h e r , he would present us with an a r r a y of promising a n d u n p r o m i s i n g conversations. Some would go far, others would barely begin. Some would have m u c h to say to each other, while others would hardly be on speaking terms. T h e presenter of such a s p e c t r u m would not be looking for one big explanation of these differences, the kind so m u c h in vogue at the m o m e n t , b u t we might learn f r o m the very variety he displays. H e might teach us differences. Should such a writer emerge, then, once again, I ' d recognise the audience he is talking a b o u t a n d addressing. M y difficulty with L i n d b e c k ' s book can be p u t by saying t h a t I c a n n o t locate his audience. W h e n I now go on to discuss possible audiences he m a y be addressing, I do not say they are his audience. I m e a n w h a t I say: I c a n ' t find his audience. N o sooner do I think I have, t h a n some feature or o t h e r of his analysis forces m e to the conclusion that this is not the case. So I keep looking without finding. Is there an audience there to find? Lindbeck says t h a t the ecumenical audience is a confused audience. H e says t h a t they lack the concepts which are central to their situation. C e n t r a l in ecumenical discussion is talk of faithfulness or unfaithfulness to doctrine. But according to Lindbeck, the audience does not know w h a t it m e a n s to be faithful or u n f a i t h f u l to a doctrine. At times, he goes as far as to say t h a t they do not know w h a t it m e a n s to speak of a doctrine. T h e y lack the concepts which would enable t h e m to do so. But this talk of 'lacking concepts' needs to be e x a m i n e d . Lacking concepts is not like lacking resources. W i t h o u t resources, you do the best you can. W i t h o u t concepts, you d o not cope as best you can with a situation, because concepts are constitutive of the situation. W i t h o u t the concepts, the situation

does not even exist for you. But, now, think of the complex relations between theology a n d religious practices W i n c h r e m i n d e d us of. W i t h i n t h e m , all sorts of j u d g e m e n t s a r e m a d e a b o u t faithfulness a n d unfaithfulness to doctrines. Doctrines will be referred to in m a n y different ways. How, then can it be said that these people lack the concepts of faithfulness or unfaithfulness to doctrine, or the concept of doctrine itself? T h e i r g r a s p of these concepts shows itself in the j u d g e m e n t s a n d references they make. If L i n d b e c k ' s audience is this audience, a n d he w a n t s to say t h a t they lack the concepts referred to, then I can m a k e little sense of w h a t is being said. I c a n n o t give this notion of a confused audience a n y substance. But p e r h a p s Lindbeck's audience is a different audience. T h i s is not an a u d i e n c e which is confused in the j u d g e m e n t s it makes, but an audience which gives confused answers w h e n asked w h a t it means to m a k e these j u d g e m e n t s . W h i l e actually employing doctrines a n d making j u d g e m e n t s concerning faithfulness or unfaithfulness to them, they know w h a t they are doing. But w h e n asked to give an a c c o u n t of their e m p l o y m e n t a n d j u d g e m e n t s they get conceptually confused. Lindbeck t e m p t s us to think t h a t this is the kind of audience he has in m i n d w h e n he says, 'Doctrines... do not b e h a v e in the way they should given our c u s t o m a r y suppositions a b o u t the kinds of things they are.' 3 So, on the one h a n d , we have the life of the doctrines, a n d , on the other h a n d , our confused suppositions a b o u t them. T h e religious-theological audience seems to be in the condition A u g u s t i n e was in w h e n h e said t h a t he knew w h a t time was if no one asked him, but t h a t if someone asked him he did not know. If this were Lindbeck's audience, it would be the familiar a u d i e n c e of the philosophically confused. A t t e m p t s m i g h t be m a d e to rescue t h e m f r o m their confusion by getting t h e m to see w h e r e they were led astray in reflecting on the life of the doctrines. But this audience does not seem to be L i n d b e c k ' s audience either. If it were, its ecumenical discussions would proceed u n h a m p e r e d by the philosophical confusions. B u t the ecumenical discussions d o not proceed u n h a m p e r e d . O n the contrary, the p a r t i c i p a n t s are said to be m u d d l e d in their discussions. After 25 years, the a u t h o r ' s experience seems to be t h a t ecumenical discussion is m u d d l i n g along. But w h a t sort of m u d d l e is this? Is it a religious m u d d l e ? A theological m u d d l e ? A philosophical m u d d l e ? N o d o u b t s h a r p b o u n d a r i e s c a n n o t be d r a w n in all cases, b u t we do not seem even to m a k e a beginning. But, it m a y be

said, this is to ignore the most obvious a n s w e r Lindbeck provides, an a n s w e r which identifies his a u d i e n c e immediately. After all, Lindbeck states clearly t h a t his a u d i e n c e is confused because it is in the grip of i n a d e q u a t e theories. W h a t they stand in need of is a correct theory. T h a t theory, according to Lindbeck, is provided by the social sciences a n d philosophy. T h e difficulty, however, is this: all this assumes the intelligibility of the way in which Lindbeck speaks of theories. If his notion of a theory is confused, w h e t h e r he is referring to a d e q u a t e or i n a d e q u a t e theories, then the audience characterised in terms of his conception of theory will not be a real audience. T h e situation will be one in which Lindbeck is confronted by an a u d i e n c e which is m u d d l i n g along, but which he himself gives a confused account of. If L i n d b e c k ' s talk of theories is an instance of l a n g u a g e idling, then an a u d i e n c e t h o u g h t of in terms of such theories will itself be a conceptual fantasy. T h a t is going to be my contention. Before looking at his actual concept of a theory, let us look first at the expectations he h a s of theories, expectations which no theory f r o m the social studies or philosophy could satisfy. First, Lindbeck w a n t s to avoid any suggestion that the theory is simply the best which can be devised to meet the interests of the ecumenical m o v e m e n t . H e says, 'A theory of religion a n d doctrine c a n n o t be ecumenically useful unless it is nonecumenically plausible.' 4 O n the other h a n d , in seeking a theory, Lindbeck says he is 'seeking concepts which will r e m o v e anomalies'. 5 T h e r e are times w h e n Lindbeck seems to e q u a t e 'anomalies' with religious differences. W h y should the differences be so regarded? O f course, they m a y be so regarded f r o m an ecumenical perspective, b u t , then, this is a religious or theological view of the difficulties. B u t Lindbeck says t h a t the theories he is looking for are ' m e a n t to be ecumenically a n d religiously neutral. T h e y d o not in themselves imply decisions either for or against the c o m m u n a l l y a u t h o r i t a t i v e teachings of p a r t i c u l a r religious bodies'. 6 I n fact, the theory sought for is m e a n t to be n e u t r a l with respect to the claims of Christianity on the one h a n d , a n d J u d a i s m a n d Islam on the other. T h e neutrality does not extend as far as H i n d u i s m or B u d d h i s m . Does not this give the g a m e away? Surely, for better or for worse, all we have here is a search for religious reconciliation within a religion, or between religions, where there is e n o u g h in c o m m o n doctrinally to m a k e the search realistic. 7 But if t h a t is the case, we have a religious a n d theological enterprise already firmly rooted in an ecumenical tradition. T a k e t h a t tradition a w a y a n d

deep-going differences will re-emerge, m a k i n g the quest for a unifying n e u t r a l theory seem bizarre. For example, let us say an ecumenical service of worship is a r r a n g e d . As we all know, responses will vary. T h e service is held. D o w n the road, in a n o t h e r service, people are p r a y i n g for the people in the ecumenical service. At the ecumenical service, they are p r a y i n g for the estranged fellow-Christians. No d o u b t some h e a d w a y can be m a d e with anomalies which are d u e to inconsistencies a n d factual errors, b u t they do not take us far. W h e r e the m a j o r differences are concerned, to talk of these as anomalies is already to invoke a religious a n d theological perspective. Anti-ecumenicals m a y agree t h a t all should be one in Christ, but t h a t unity is taken to be defined by the doctrinal unity of their perspective. T h e y will invite the ecumenical enthusiasts to become one in Christ too. I t is difficult to see, therefore, how L i n d b e c k ' s expectations of theories are real expectations. Are they not an instance o f l a n g u a g e idling? But w h a t of the theories of which Lindbeck speaks? H e speaks of theories of the n a t u r a l sciences, the social sciences a n d philosophy all in the s a m e b r e a t h . T h e r e are i m p o r t a n t differences, however, which need to be noted, differences which have farreaching consequences for Lindbeck's whole enterprise. T h e first thing to note is t h a t in examining the b e h a v i o u r of h u m a n beings, we are examining behaviour in which concepts are already at work. T h i s is not true of the n a t u r a l sciences. ' G r a v i t y ' is a concept which belongs to the modes of representation in physics, not to the existence of, let us say, the apple. But w h e n we speak of concepts such as ' w a r ' , 'discussion', 'family', etc., etc., we a r e not talking of concepts we employ to explain people's behaviour. O n the contrary, these concepts are constitutive of the a p p r o p r i a t e forms of h u m a n behaviour. 8 O f course, social scientists m a y be interested in explanations a n d correlations which do not interest the p a r t i c i p a n t s they are investigating. But if they w a n t to u n d e r s t a n d the behaviour of h u m a n beings, they cannot ignore the concepts which a r e constitutive of that behaviour. T h i s is as true of religious concepts as of any other. T h e social sciences m a y help ecumenical investigations in all sorts of ways, but, unless the religious a n d theological c h a r a c t e r of these investigations are a b a n d o n e d , attention m u s t be paid to the m e a n i n g of the religious concepts involved. This is not a m a t t e r of testing a theory, as Lindbeck seems to think, but a m a t t e r of e n d e a v o u r i n g to g r a s p the role of the religious a n d theological concepts in ecumenical thought. O f course, the creative theologian goes further. H e is

able to discuss these concepts in such a way t h a t they inform the wider religious communities, in the complex ways W i n c h outlined, of a vision of w h a t it is to seek unity in Christ. T h a t no such creative theologian seems to be f o r t h c o m i n g does not affect the conceptual points at issue. But Lindbeck also speaks of philosophical theories. T h e r e is one difficulty with doing so: there are no theories in philosophy a n d , hence, n o t h i n g to be tested. O f course, theories are devised, b u t they t u r n out, on examination, to be generalisations f r o m limited cases, or p r o d u c t s of conceptual confusion. W h a t we do with such 'theories' in philosophy is not to confirm or disconfirm t h e m , b u t to show the knots in the u n d e r s t a n d i n g which led to their formulation. W h e n these theories a r e given up, they are not replaced by better theories. R a t h e r , the e n q u i r e r is free of the confusion which led him to devise the theories in the first place. T h e unravelling of the route to the confused theory m a y be a long a n d complex business. E a c h person m u s t come to clarity for himself. So in philosophy, we are not testing theories, b u t struggling with confusions to which we a r e all prone. Despite w h a t he says a b o u t theories, w h e n we t u r n to look at w h a t Lindbeck m e a n s by i n a d e q u a t e theories, we find t h a t they, too, a r e examples of conceptual confusion. I n his discussions of this confusion, however, we can see how d e e p its hold can be on us. Despite some i m p o r t a n t insights, Lindbeck does not always free himself f r o m the very conceptual confusion he thinks he h a s identified. I n so far as t h a t is true, the audience he thinks he is talking f r o m a n d to will r e m a i n a n elusive one to identify. Lindbeck's ecumenical audience is said to be confused in a way which obscures f r o m it the reconciliation it is seeking. T h e a u d i e n c e thinks t h a t it is self-contradictory to speak of doctrinal reconciliation w i t h o u t this entailing doctrinal capitulation. Lindbeck w a n t s to show t h a t this is not so. I n a d e q u a t e theories s t a n d in the audience's way in a p p r e c i a t i n g this fact. T w o rival theories have d o m i n a t e d the discussion a n d it is on these, following Lindbeck, t h a t we shall concentrate. Is Lindbeck in t h e a u d i e n c e which is free f r o m the confusion of these theories, or is he one of the confused audience, the very a u d i e n c e he claims to be identifying? As we shall see, there is no unequivocal a n s w e r to this question. T h e first theory of religion a n d doctrine Lindbeck considers is w h a t m i g h t be called the cognitivist theory. H e says t h a t this theory 'emphasizes the cognitive aspects of religion a n d stresses

the ways in which c h u r c h doctrines function as informative propositions or t r u t h claims a b o u t objective realities'. 9 As we shall see, there a r e problems a b o u t the generality of t h a t description, b u t w h a t Lindbeck w a n t s to oppose is fairly clear. H e rightly wants to oppose t h a t strong tradition in which propositions a b o u t the existence of G o d are treated as the presuppositions of religion. O n this view, those propositions s t a n d in isolation, their sense being entirely u n m e d i a t e d . Given such a view, the n a t u r e of doctrinal disagreements is u n d e r s t o o d accordingly. Two theologians a d v a n c i n g conflicting doctrines are understood to be like two m e n trying to describe an object in less t h a n ideal circumstances. If the two theological descriptions conflict, then, given one is correct, the other c a n n o t be reconciled to it without capitulation. As Lindbeck says, 'on this view, doctrinal reconciliation without capitulation is impossible because there is no significant sense in which the m e a n i n g of a doctrine can c h a n g e while r e m a i n i n g the same'. 1 0 H e r e , Lindbeck is accusing the cognitivist theory of conceptual confusion. H e is saying that we m i s u n d e r s t a n d the logic of theological doctrines if we think of t h e m as descriptions of an object, a p h e n o m e n o n , given i n d e p e n d e n t l y of them. I think he is absolutely right. W h a t we do not find in Lindbeck, however, is a n y actual philosophical elucidation of the ways in which we are t e m p t e d by these confused views of theology. Some of these ways have been illuminatingly explored by R u s h Rhees. H e says, If one lays e m p h a s i s ... on the fact that ' G o d ' is a substantive, a n d especially if one goes on, ... to say that it is a p r o p e r n a m e , then the n a t u r a l thing will be to a s s u m e that m e a n i n g the s a m e by ' G o d ' is something like m e a n i n g the s a m e by ' t h e s u n ' or m e a n i n g the same by ' C h u r c h i l l ' . You m i g h t even w a n t to use some such p h r a s e as ' s t a n d s for' the same. But n o t h i n g of t h a t sort will do here. Q u e s t i o n s a b o u t ' m e a n i n g the s a m e ' in connection with the n a m e s of physical objects a r e connected with the kind of criteria to which we m a y a p p e a l in saying that this is the s a m e object — ' t h a t is the s a m e planet as I saw in the south west last night', ' t h a t is the s a m e car that was s t a n d i n g here this m o r n i n g ' . S u p p o s i n g someone said ' T h e word " G o d " s t a n d s for a different object now.' W h a t could t h a t m e a n ? I know w h a t it m e a n s to say t h a t 'the Q u e e n ' s t a n d s for a different person now, a n d I know w h a t it m e a n s to say t h a t St. M a r y ' s

C h u r c h now is not the St. M a r y ' s C h u r c h t h a t was here in So-and-So's day. I know the sort of thing t h a t might be said if I were to question either of these statements. But nothing of t h a t sort could be said in connection with any question a b o u t the m e a n i n g o f ' G o d ' . C o n s i d e r the way in which we learn the m e a n i n g o f ' G o d ' . I t is not having someone point a n d say 'That's G o d ' . N o w this is not a trivial or inessential m a t t e r . It hangs together in very i m p o r t a n t ways with w h a t I call the g r a m m a r of the word ' G o d ' . A n d it is one reason why I d o not think it is helpful j u s t to say that the word is a substantive." I have q u o t e d Rhees at length, a n d shall do so again, because his discussion is an example of philosophy at work, a revealing of the ways in which we m a y be misled w h e n we say we a r e talking about G o d . Now, at times, Lindbeck seems to be endorsing the kind of analysis Rhees has provided. At other times, he seems to be still in the grip of the very confusion he is hoping to eradicate. T h i s shows in the very generality by which he expresses the theory he thinks is confused. H e w a n t s to avoid the confusion Rhees shows we can fall into, b u t does so by attacking the notion t h a t theological statements h a v e to d o with an objective reality or with t r u t h claims. But, of course, all Rhees shows is the confusion of construing talk of 'objective reality' a n d ' t r u t h ' in religion in a certain way, namely, in the w a y we construe t h e m w h e r e talk of physical objects is concerned. T o be p r e p a r e d to jettison talk of an i n d e p e n d e n t reality, as Lindbeck seems to be, is to fall back into the g r a m m a t i c a l t r a p which led one astray in the first place. It is to a s s u m e t h a t the notion of an i n d e p e n d e n t reality only has application where talk of physical objects is concerned. Yet, w h e n a believer strays f r o m the ways of G o d , he clearly thinks of himself as d e p a r t i n g f r o m a reality which is i n d e p e n d e n t of himself. G o d ' s independence, however, is not like the i n d e p e n d e n c e of a physical object. Philosophy of religion is faced with the task of bringing out the g r a m m a t i c a l differences between t h e m should they b e c o m e confused in someone's m i n d . T h i s can be b r o u g h t out by showing t h a t in the case of G o d , there is n o question of a n y t h i n g like a m a t e r i a l investigation to find out whether there is a G o d . T h a t would be complete nonsense. Again, Rhees brings out why: W e use 'it exists' chiefly in connection with physical objects, a n d a n y w a y we use it where we can ask w h e t h e r it exists

or not. T h i s goes with the sense of finding out w h e t h e r it exists. N o w the 'it', whatever it is, is something we could identify in such an investigation — by, for example, the m e t h o d s by which we c o m m o n l y identify a p a r t i c u l a r physical object. W e might also confuse it with something else, or mistake something else for it. But in any case, the question whether it was the s a m e object would involve those sorts of criteria. But the question w h e t h e r we m e a n the s a m e by ' G o d ' , I have said, is not a question w h e t h e r we a r e referring to the s a m e object. T h e question w h e t h e r we a r e still talking a b o u t G o d now, or w h e t h e r we are really w o r s h i p p i n g G o d now, c a n n o t be settled by referring to any object. A n d I do not think it would m e a n a n y t h i n g to ask ' w h e t h e r any such object exists'. N o r does it c h a n g e a n y t h i n g if you say 'being' instead o f ' o b j e c t ' . 1 2 If this analysis has revealed a confusion, then the so-called cognitivist theory, which d e p e n d s on such confusion, m u s t be seen as itself the p r o d u c t of confusion. T h e p u r p o s e of Rhees's analysis is not to prohibit talk of the existence of G o d or of t r u t h in religion, b u t to become clear a b o u t w h a t such talk a m o u n t s to. T h e cognitivist theory is a confused account of such talk. Such talk misrepresented religious realities. T h e r e a r e times, however, w h e n Lindbeck speaks as if the cognitivist theory is a n optional way of talking a b o u t religion which one might choose to a d o p t . For example, he says: Fewer a n d fewer c o n t e m p o r a r y people a r e deeply e m b e d d e d in p a r t i c u l a r religious traditions or thoroughly involved in p a r t i c u l a r religious communities. T h i s makes it h a r d for t h e m to perceive or experience religion in cognitivist fashion as the acceptance of sets of objectively a n d i m m u t a b l y true propositions. P e r h a p s only those a m o n g w h o m the sects chiefly recruit w h o combine u n u s u a l insecurity with naivete can easily m a n a g e to do this. 1 3 T h i s seems to miss entirely the role which conceptual clarity plays in Rhees's analysis. Even if people were deeply e m b e d d e d in religious practices, the cognitivist theory, if it has the implications Rhees makes explicit, would still be the result of a confused u n d e r s t a n d i n g of their religious practices. Lindbeck seems almost to be saying t h a t this u n d e r s t a n d i n g would be a viable one if the

people were deeply e m b e d d e d in religious practices. Again, we can see t h a t Lindbeck is not entirely free from the g r a m m a t i c a l confusions of the cognitivist theory w h e n he says: 'Christians ... go on a n d assert t h a t it is propositionally true t h a t Christ is L o r d : i.e. the p a r t i c u l a r individual of which the stories are told is, was, a n d will be definitively a n d u n s u r p a s s a b l y the Lord. T h e great strength of a cognitivist-propositional theory of religion is that, it a d m i t s the possibility of such t r u t h claims.' 1 4 H e r e is an excellent e x a m p l e of Lindbeck relying on u n m e d i a t e d religious concepts. If the cognitivist theory were applicable to these religious claims, in the ways Rhees outlined, then it would m a k e sense to speak of c o n d u c t i n g an investigation to find out w h e t h e r Christ is L o r d , m u c h in the same way as one m i g h t conduct an investigation to find out w h e t h e r a title to the L o r d s h i p of a m a n o r is a valid title or not. H e r e , one has a conception of w h a t a valid title is, the criterion to be satisfied, before the investigation starts. But n o t h i n g like this applies in acknowledging C h r i s t as Lord. Notoriously, the concepts involved in Messianic expectations prior to C h r i s t ' s coming c a n n o t be regarded as having the logical status of tests of entitlement which could be applied impersonally to whichever p r e t e n d e r to the title c a m e along. T h e discussion over w h e t h e r Christ is Lord is itself a theological a n d religious discussion. Lindbeck's use of language betrays the fact w h e n he speaks of Christ as 'definitively a n d u n s u r p a s s a b l y L o r d ' . H e offers this as evidence of the strength of the a p p r o p r i a t e n e s s of the cognitivist theory in this context, whereas his use of this very l a n g u a g e should have shown him the confusion of g r a m m a r involved in thinking so. W h a t we have seen is t h a t Lindbeck, while half-realising t h a t theological doctrines are not descriptions of an object given i n d e p e n d e n t l y of them, c a n n o t free himself from the t e m p t i n g a n d prestigious g r a m m a r of that relation, a g r a m m a r d r a w n , in the m a i n , from our talk of physical objects. H e r e is a good example of Lindbeck oscillating between clarity a n d confusion. H e says: T h e ontological t r u t h of religious utterances, like their intrasystematic t r u t h , is different as well as similar to w h a t holds in other realms of discourse. T h e i r correspondence to reality in the view we a r e e x p o u n d i n g is not an a t t r i b u t e that they have w h e n considered in a n d for themselves, b u t is only a f u n c t i o n of their role in constituting a form of life, a way of being in the world, which itself corresponds to the M o s t I m p o r t a n t , the U l t i m a t e l y Real. 1 5

Put in a more recognisable c o n t e m p o r a r y philosophical idiom, the tensions a n d contradictions in L i n d b e c k ' s r e m a r k s can be expressed as follows: if we w a n t to u n d e r s t a n d the force of the ' i n d e p e n d e n t l y real' in religion, w h a t t h a t comes to, we must not consider t h a t notion in isolation, since it h a s no sense there. F u r t h e r , in the a t t e m p t to so consider it, w h a t we a r e likely to do is to give it a sense from a restricted area of discourse, a n d confusedly m a k e that sense p a r a d i g m a t i c for religion. T o avoid this confusion, we m u s t look to the forms of life in which talk of G o d has a role to see w h a t application the notion of the i n d e p e n d e n t l y real has there. So far, so good. But, of course, Lindbeck h a d coined the term ' i n t r a s y s t e m a t i c t r u t h ' only because, impressed by the way in which we talk of t r u t h s w h e r e physical objects are concerned, he h a d jettisoned talk of 'ontological t r u t h ' where religion is concerned. I n s t e a d of doing so, he should have explored the g r a m m a r of ' t h e i n d e p e n d e n t l y real' in a religious context. Finally, h a v i n g said t h a t it is essential to look at the use of concepts in their n a t u r a l homes, in this case, in their religious contexts, we find Lindbeck speaking of these n a t u r a l homes, these g r a m m a t i c a l p a r a m e t e r s , as themselves corresponding to something he calls t h e ' M o s t I m p o r t a n t ' a n d the ' U l t i m a t e l y Real'. H e r e this notion of ' c o r r e s p o n d e n c e ' is entirely u n m e d i a t e d . N o context has been given for it. It is a n o t h e r instance of l a n g u a g e idling. N o analysis is being referred to since the talk is itself a p r o d u c t of conceptual confusion. N o use of capitals in talking of the ' M o s t I m p o r t a n t ' a n d the ' U l t i m a t e l y Real' can hide the fact t h a t he is trying to place these concepts, w h a t e v e r they are, in a logical space which transcends the l a n g u a g e - g a m e s a n d forms of life in which concepts have their life. T h e notion of such a logical space is an illusion. So m u c h for L i n d b e c k ' s t r e a t m e n t of the first i n a d e q u a t e theory by which he thinks his ecumenical audience is confused. As we can see f r o m it, L i n d b e c k ' s own position is an equivocal one. A t times, he seems to identify g r a m m a t i c a l confusions. At other times, he seems to be still in the grip of the very confusions he identifies. Lindbeck has a m u c h surer g r a s p of his criticism of the second i n a d e q u a t e theory which, according to him, confuses the ecumenical audience. T h i s theory is called the ' e x p e r i e n t i a l expressive a p p r o a c h ' , by which doctrines are interpreted as ' n o n i n f o r m a t i v e a n d nondiscursive symbols of inner feelings, attitudes, or existential orientations'. 1 6 O n this view, doctrines, in the end, can be dispensed with, since religious a g r e e m e n t or

d i s a g r e e m e n t 'are constituted by h a r m o n y or conflict in u n d e r lying feelings, attitudes, existential orientations, or practices, r a t h e r t h a n by w h a t h a p p e n s on the level of symbolic (including doctrinal) objectifications. T h e r e is thus at least the logical possibility t h a t a Buddhist a n d a C h r i s t i a n might have basically the s a m e faith, although expressed very differently.' 1 7 As Lindbeck says, ' T h e rationale suggested, t h o u g h not necessitated, by an experiential-expressive a p p r o a c h is t h a t the various religions are diverse symbolizations of one a n d the same core experience of the U l t i m a t e , a n d t h a t therefore they m u s t respect each other, learn f r o m each other, a n d reciprocally enrich each other.' 1 8 T h e r e are times w h e n L i n d b e c k ' s objections to the so-called 'experiential-expressive' a p p r o a c h a m o u n t to saying t h a t o t h e r theories are to be preferred because of their greater economy, or because they correspond m o r e closely to the facts. O n these views, there is n o t h i n g conceptually confused a b o u t the theory as such. W h e n Lindbeck is at his best, however, he recognises t h a t the m a i n difficulty with the theory is t h a t it is incoherent. N o intelligible account can be given of the notion of an experience which is not only supposed to be contingently related to the l a n g u a g e in which it is expressed, b u t which is supposed to r e m a i n c o n s t a n t in c h a r a c t e r while the linguistic expressions of it v a r y enormously. N o content can be given to this notion of experience because it is confused in its conception. As Lindbeck says, 'it is difficult or impossible to specify its distinctive features, a n d yet unless this is done, the assertion of c o m m o n a l i t y becomes logically a n d empirically vacuous'. 1 9 Lindbeck sees t h a t the possibility of religious experience is logically parasitic on a language a n d b e h a v i o u r which is already religious. Religious experience does not s t a n d to language as a melody s t a n d s to a song. W e can take a w a y the words of the song, a n d we are still left with the melody. But we c a n n o t s u b t r a c t the l a n g u a g e a n d behaviour, in the case of religion, a n d say t h a t we are left with the experience. What experience? T h e notion is entirely vacuous. 2 0 It m a y well seem t h a t these philosophical observations a r e b o r n e out by the t e m p o r a l sequence in which people's religious experiences are formed. After all, it m i g h t be said, w h e n a child is first taken to c h u r c h he has no religious experiences. T h e y c o m e later. W h a t h a p p e n s is t h a t he is introduced to a context of ritual a n d worship in which the possibility of religious experience h a s its sense. In criticism of those theories of religion which explain ritual as e m a n a t i n g f r o m experience, it m i g h t be said t h a t so far

f r o m experience creating rites a n d rituals, the rites a n d rituals create the possibility of religious experience. Lindbeck m a y be taken to be saying something similar w h e n he says, j u s t as a l a n g u a g e (or 'language g a m e ' , to use Wittgenstein's p h r a s e ) is correlated with a form of life, a n d j u s t as a culture h a s both cognitive a n d behavioral dimensions, so it is also in the case of religious tradition. Its doctrines, cosmic stories or myths, a n d ethical directives a r e integrally related to the rituals it practices, the sentiments or experiences it evokes, the actions it r e c o m m e n d s , a n d the institutional forms it develops. 2 1 Yet, as Lindbeck recognises, r e m a r k s such as these can easily be m i s u n d e r s t o o d . If the t e m p o r a l sequence is emphasised in such a way t h a t the religious experience is t h o u g h t of as a s u b s e q u e n t d e v e l o p m e n t f r o m the practices, the existence of the practices becomes utterly mysterious. Practices divorced f r o m religious experience a r e j u s t as unintelligible as religious experiences divorced f r o m religious practices. W e need to get away f r o m this whole 'chicken-or-the-egg' way of thinking a b o u t the relation of experience to practice. 2 2 I n s t e a d , w h a t is needed is to emphasise, f r o m the outset, the character of religious practices where, as Lindbeck says ' T h e p r i m a r y knowledge is not about the religion, nor that the religion teaches such a n d such, b u t r a t h e r how to be religious in such a n d such ways.' 2 3 H a v i n g voiced his objections to the two theories he regards as confused, Lindbeck moves on to a consideration of the theory he favours, namely, one in which he a d o p t s w h a t he calls a ' c u l t u r a l linguistic' a p p r o a c h to religion in which religions are said to resemble languages. Before going on to consider this third alternative, a brief word is necessary a b o u t a tension which r u n s t h r o u g h Lindbeck's t r e a t m e n t of the two theories he rejects. I have already argued t h a t w h a t he rejects are not theories, b u t well-known a n d deep-rooted confusions we can fall into w h e n we reflect on the c h a r a c t e r of religious belief. T h e r e are times w h e n Lindbeck seems to recognise the confusion involved in these ways of thinking. At other times, however, he speaks as t h o u g h these ways of thinking, t h a t is, thinking of doctrinal s t a t e m e n t s as descriptively related to a p h e n o m e n o n which is given i n d e p e n d e n t l y of these doctrines, or thinking t h a t radically different religious ways of talking could all be expressions of the s a m e underlying experience, could be

options which we can take u p for certain purposes. T h e r e are two f u n d a m e n t a l objections to this suggestion. First, those in the grip of these ways of thinking d o not regard t h e m as options. O n the contrary, a l t h o u g h they are confused, they, not seeing this, think they are giving a faithful conceptual account of the religious practices they are talking a b o u t . Second, those no longer in the grip of these ways of talking, w h o have seen the confusion involved in t h e m , certainly c a n n o t view t h e m as options which they can take u p again. T h e difFiculty I have with L i n d b e c k ' s strategies is t h a t he claims to see the confusions a n d yet continues to talk of these ways of talking as options. Lindbeck's own suggestion is t h a t theological doctrines should be c o m p a r e d to g r a m m a t i c a l rules. H e echoes W i t t g e n s t e i n ' s r e m a r k t h a t theology is a kind of g r a m m a r . Theological doctrines become regulative rules for the use of the word ' G o d ' , not descriptions of a n object given i n d e p e n d e n t l y of themselves. O n c e again, Rhees's analysis in this connection is extremely illuminating. W e have already seen t h a t in asking w h e t h e r we m e a n the same by G o d , we can get confused if we think that this h a s a n y t h i n g in c o m m o n with referring to the s a m e object. Theological speculation is at the centre of any discussion a b o u t G o d ' s identity. I w a n t to quote Rhees at some length to show j u s t how central it is. 24 First, Rhees points out how children acquire a primitive theology in the stories they are t a u g h t a n d how their ideas m a y c h a n g e as they grow older: W e m a y say t h a t children acquire a sort of primitive theology in the stories of the Creation a n d the G a r d e n of E d e n a n d other stories a b o u t G o d in the book of Genesis, for example. T h e y learn to think a b o u t G o d in these terms a n d in this way. T h e y generally learn this in connection with elementary notions of worship a n d p r a y e r too; a n d it is i m p o r t a n t to r e m e m b e r that. T h e stories of G o d walking in the g a r d e n are not t a u g h t t h e m in the s a m e w a y t h a t stories of K i n g A r t h u r or the battle of H a s t i n g s are. I know you m a y say t h a t children d o not d r a w m u c h distinction; b u t there is one all the same, a n d this is i m p o r t a n t for the role which these stories come to play in later developments or for the w a y in which they are connected with later developments. T h e children are not being given primitive ideas of history. T h r o u g h these stories ideas a r e being formed, b u t they a r e

the ideas t h a t enter into worship. T h i s theology m a y be altered as the children grow older. It m a y take on a new form w h e n they become familiar with the H e b r e w prophets, for instance. I n all this — f r o m the beginning a n d on t h r o u g h the later changes — they have learned a certain way of using the expression ' G o d ' , a way of using the expression ' C r e a t o r ' , a way of using the expressions ' G o d ' s will', 'sin against G o d ' , 'serving G o d ' , 'love of G o d ' a n d others. 2 5 Rhees emphasises, however, t h a t theology m u s t not be t h o u g h t of as a set of propositions which a r e given, in some sense, prior to religious practices, a n d f r o m which the religious practices could be derived: I say t h a t without this theology religious devotion, reverence a n d religious exaltation would have no sense at all. A n d yet — once m o r e — I do not m e a n t h a t this theology, t h e learning of these ways of speaking, is w h a t h a s p r o d u c e d religion. If children learn to speak of G o d t h r o u g h having the Bible read to them, the Bible itself was the o u t c o m e of religion before it was the source of it. I n general, one m i g h t say t h a t theology grows out of religious devotion j u s t as m u c h as the o t h e r way a b o u t . A n d no theology is conceivable except in connection with a religious tradition. 2 6 S o m e o n e m a y still think t h a t all this makes theology u n i m p o r t a n t . But, on the contrary, it is concerned with the most i m p o r t a n t question for a believer: W h a t is w o r s h i p p i n g God? Rhees says: Someone m i g h t ask 'Well why have all this theology at all, then? Is it not j u s t so m u c h trellis-work or o r n a m e n t a t i o n t h a t could as well be left out?' Well, consider ' T o know G o d is to w o r s h i p him'. W h a t is w o r s h i p p i n g God, precisely? C o u l d you speak of w o r s h i p p i n g G o d — would t h a t m e a n a n y t h i n g — w i t h o u t some sort of theology? 2 7 So Rhees is bringing out i m p o r t a n t is speculation Doctrinal d i s a g r e e m e n t is a d i s a g r e e m e n t which has

t h a t theological speculation at its most a b o u t w h a t it is to w o r s h i p G o d . disagreement, in the end, a b o u t that, implications for the role of w o r s h i p in

a m a n ' s life. Doctrines are seen as laying d o w n the g r a m m a t i c a l p a r a m e t e r s of the faith: they are concerned with w h a t should a n d should not be said a b o u t G o d . But such considerations are i m p o r t a n t only in so far as they are related to the realities of the spiritual life. Here, we are far a w a y f r o m the misleading picture of doctrinal d i s a g r e e m e n t as c o m p e t i n g descriptions of an object seen in less t h a n ideal circumstances, or as divergent expressions of an underlying experience which never changes. W e see t h a t theology is far more serious t h a n that. T h e r e is reason to believe t h a t Lindbeck would agree with a great deal of Rhees's discussion concerning the c h a r a c t e r of theology. As we have already seen, he wrongly concludes t h a t seeing theology as a kind of g r a m m a r entails not talking of G o d as an i n d e p e n d e n t reality a n d ceasing to m a k e t r u t h claims concerning him. All that follows f r o m the analysis, in fact, is t h a t such talk should be understood within the g r a m m a r of the religious discourse in which it is m a d e . All we are rescued f r o m is the confusion of thinking t h a t the notions o f ' i n d e p e n d e n t reality' a n d ' t r u t h ' in this context have the s a m e g r a m m a r as they do in others.

Notes 1. The Westminster Press, Philadelphia, 1984. 2. Peter Winch, 'Meaning and Religious Language' in Brown (ed.), Reason and religion, p. 202. 3. Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine, p. 7. 4. I b i d , p. 8. 5. Ibid. 6. I b i d , p. 9. 7. In a discussion with Lindbeck at Yale Divinity School, he gave an illuminating example of a reconciling theological discussion. Before Vatican II, there was an impasse in discussion between Catholics and Protestants over the status of the Mass. The Protestants insisted that, on Calvary, Christ's sacrifice was sufficient once and for all. They took the Catholic view of the Mass as implying that Christ is sacrificed anew in each celebration. This was denied by the Catholics, but without any effect. After Vatican II the deadlock was broken by the Catholic declaration that two masses are no better than one. Here, reconciliation comes about through the further elucidation of a doctrine. At his best, Lindbeck settles for a straightforward account of what happened. At other times, he is tempted to resort to 'theory', suggesting that what happened entails a principle of sacramental realism. Of course, there are still deep differences between the above cases and those who would deny that the mass is a sacrifice, insisting that it does no more than remember a sacrifice. 8. See Peter Winch, The Idea of a Social Science (Routledge and Kegan Paul, London, 1958), pp. 127-8. 9. Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine, p. 16. 10. I b i d , p. 17. 11. Rush Rhees, 'Religion and Language' in Without Answers (Routledge and Kegan Paul, London, 1969), pp. 127-8. 12. I b i d , p. 131. 13. Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine, p. 21. 14. I b i d , pp. 63-4. 15. I b i d , p. 65. 16. I b i d , p. 16. 17. I b i d , p. 17. 18. I b i d , p. 23. 19. I b i d , p. 32. 20. T h e question of whether there could be a religion without a religious language is a separate issue. 21. Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine, p. 33. 22. See Part Four. 23. Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine, p. 35. 24. See too D.Z. Phillips, 'Philosophy, Theology and the Reality of God', Philosophical Quarterly, Oct. 1963, reprinted in D.Z. Phillips, Faith and Philosophical Enquiry (Routledge and Kegan Paul, London, 1970). 25. Rhees, 'Religion and Language', pp. 125-6. 26. I b i d , p. 126. 27. I b i d , p. 127.

G r a m m a r and Doctrinal Disagreement

A t the outset of the last c h a p t e r , I said t h a t it is t e m p t i n g to think t h a t Wittgenstein's notion of g r a m m a r can in itself d e t e r m i n e the direction which theological d e v e l o p m e n t shall take. I t is now time to see how one can s u c c u m b to this t e m p t a t i o n . L i n d b e c k does so in thinking that, once one recognises t h a t doctrinal s t a t e m e n t s a r e g r a m m a t i c a l statements, it is easier to see, of necessity, in ecumenical discussion, how there can be doctrinal reconciliation w i t h o u t capitulation. It is difficult to see h o w he is able to come to a n y such conclusion. If doctrinal s t a t e m e n t s are seen as g r a m m a t i c a l remarks, it is extremely i m p o r t a n t to note t h a t , within doctrinal contexts, there m a y still be d e e p doctrinal differences. I n other words, there will be g r a m m a t i c a l tensions as well as g r a m m a t i c a l a g r e e m e n t s . I n m a n y cases, if the tensions a r e to be resolved, there will have to be doctrinal capitulation. O f course, the logic of this capitulation is n o longer the logic of capitulation where one m a n sees t h a t a description of a n object he h a s provided is incorrect. B u t j u s t because the g r a m m a r of capitulation is different, it is no less capitulation. C a p i t u l a t i o n now would take the form of the admission that one h a d not been speaking properly a b o u t G o d . Given the essential relations we have noted between theology a n d t h e life of worship, it would be a n admission m a d e in the light of a new awareness of spiritual t r u t h s . T h e r e are times w h e n L i n d b e c k seems to a p p r e c i a t e this m o m e n t o u s fact. It is m o m e n t o u s because in saying ' G o d is ' one is providing a rule for the use of the word ' G o d ' ; a provision which should be m a d e in fear a n d trembling. A t o t h e r times, however, Lindbeck reverts to the t e m p t i n g c h a r m of the cognitivist theory a n d speaks as t h o u g h a t r u t h concerning G o d h a s to do with the relation between the g r a m m a t i c a l rule a n d a reality

i n d e p e n d e n t of itself. But this is to m i s u n d e r s t a n d the sense of the very notion of g r a m m a r Lindbeck w a n t s to employ in referring to doctrines. H e r e is a good e x a m p l e of Lindbeck oscillating between, a n d thereby confusing, the two different g r a m m a r s : if the form of life a n d u n d e r s t a n d i n g of the world s h a p e d by an a u t h e n t i c use of the C h r i s t i a n stories does in fact correspond to G o d ' s being a n d will, then the p r o p e r use of Christus est Dominus is not only intrasystematically b u t ontologically true. U t t e r a n c e s within any not totally incoherent religion can on this a c c o u n t be intrasystematically true, b u t this in no sense assures their ontological t r u t h or meaningfulness. 1

If Lindbeck h a d properly understood the notion of a form of life, he would have seen that it is only within such contexts t h a t the question of w h a t it m e a n s to ask w h e t h e r a s t a t e m e n t is true or false can arise. So if we w a n t to ask w h e t h e r a doctrine is true or false, we h a v e first to ask w h a t it m e a n s to speak of t r u t h or falsity in this religious context. As we have seen, to speak of t r u t h here is already to m a k e a religious j u d g e m e n t . T o ask w h e t h e r the way you m a k e religious j u d g e m e n t s is true is to c o n t e m p l a t e a religious c h a n g e or to c o n t e m p l a t e giving u p one's religious allegiances. But in the above q u o t a t i o n , Lindbeck is speaking as t h o u g h he h a d i n t r o d u c e d us to a conception of t r u t h (what he calls ontological truth) which has a n application i n d e p e n d e n t l y of religion a n d i n d e p e n d e n t of any form of life we could specify. O f course, it is no accident t h a t he can give no s u b s t a n c e to this conception. Lindbeck says ' T h i s is not the place to p u r s u e in detail the logical issues raised by t r u t h claims in religion.' 2 P e r h a p s it is because he does not do so, or has not d o n e so, that Lindbeck is still in the grip of the very g r a m m a t i c a l confusion f r o m which he thinks he has freed himself. H a v i n g a p p a r e n t l y seen t h r o u g h the g r a m m a t i c a l confusions of the cognitivist theory, he nevertheless thinks that these g r a m m a t i c a l confusions can be incorporated in his new g r a m m a t i c a l insights: ' T h e r e is n o t h i n g in the cultural-linguistic a p p r o a c h t h a t requires the rejection (or the acceptance) of the epistemological realism a n d correspondence theory of t r u t h , which, according to most of the theological tradition, is implicit in the conviction of believers t h a t w h e n they rightly use a sentence such as 'Christ is L o r d ' they are uttering a true first-order proposition.' 3 N o t h i n g t h a t requires the rejection?

Surely, a g r a m m a t i c a l gain logically entails a b a n d o n i n g one's g r a m m a t i c a l confusion. If Lindbeck is claiming to offer a n y gains in g r a m m a t i c a l insight in his discussion of the status of doctrines, he c a n n o t c o m b i n e this with an a c c o m m o d a t i o n of the confusions such a gain logically requires us to p u t aside. I t is because Lindbeck a t t e m p t s to do so t h a t his own location, the a u d i e n c e from which he speaks, is so difficult to d e t e r m i n e . W e shall find the s a m e difficulty in t u r n i n g to o u r final topic, namely, the n a t u r e of doctrinal disagreement. T h e r e a r e times w h e n Lindbeck states, quite clearly, the g r a m m a t i c a l s t a t u s of religious doctrines, a n d how those doctrines set the p a r a m e t e r s for the discourse a n d identity of a religious c o m m u n i t y : ' C h u r c h doctrines are c o m m u n a l l y authoritative teachings r e g a r d i n g beliefs a n d practices t h a t are considered essential to the identity or welfare of the g r o u p in question. T h e y m a y be formally stated or informally operative, but in a n y case they indicate w h a t constitutes faithful a d h e r e n c e to a c o m m u n i t y . ' 4 Lindbeck points out that this view of doctrines itself contains complexities which need not be a p p a r e n t at first. For example, the reality of doctrine need not correspond always to w h a t is explicitly stated in f o r m a l terms in the religious c o m m u n i t y . T h i s is because in t e r m s of its actual use, its actual i n t e r p e n e t r a t i o n within the life of worship, a n explicitly stated doctrine m a y have little more t h a n a n o m i n a l reality, while one not stated formally m a y be at work in the life of worship. F u r t h e r , formal a g r e e m e n t on the doctrine m a y hide the extent of theological d i s a g r e e m e n t , for how t h a t doctrine is explained a n d m e d i a t e d in the life of the religious c o m m u n i t y m a y reveal theological differences. W h e n these differences b e c o m e acute some people react, as m a n y did in the 1960s, by saying t h a t the differences do not m a t t e r , a n d t h a t underlying religious experiences survive them. As we have seen, however, no serious religion is possible without some kind of theology, w i t h o u t some concern being expressed a b o u t w h a t o u g h t a n d o u g h t not to be said a b o u t G o d . I n this context, there are two extremes which Lindbeck, rightly, w a n t s to avoid. O n the one h a n d , he w a n t s to avoid the radical relativism of those w h o say t h a t C h r i s t i a n i t y has no central core. Everything is in flux a n d w h a t is called Christianity today is no m o r e t h a n the traditions which h a v e evolved to meet our present historical situation. O n the o t h e r h a n d , he w a n t s to oppose C a t h o l i c a n d P r o t e s t a n t a t t e m p t s to hold onto old forms which, once historically valid, c a n n o t speak to the present situation.

H o w , then, is doctrinal faithfulness to be combined with the need for relevant proclamation? T h i s is a question which theology c a n n o t ignore. T h e philosophical issue I a m exploring, however, is w h e t h e r a certain philosophical clarity concerning doctrine a n d doctrinal d i s a g r e e m e n t of itself gives one kind of theological answer to this question. T h i s seems to be L i n d b e c k ' s hope, b u t it is a hope which c a n n o t be realised. It is h a r d to follow Lindbeck's analysis because he claims t h a t doctrines a r e not first-order propositions. H e says this because, for him, first-order propositions m a k e claims a b o u t extra-linguistic realities. O n c e again this involves the confusion of g r a m m a r s which we h a v e already h a d occasion to note. It is necessary at this stage to m a k e some f u r t h e r c o m p a r i s o n s to re-emphasise these. C o n s i d e r two uses of ' T h i s is r e d ' . I n the first, we are offering a description of a p a r t i c u l a r object. S o m e o n e has asked us w h a t colour it is a n d we reply ' T h i s is r e d ' . B u t in the second use of ' T h i s is red', n o t h i n g is being described. R a t h e r , we are being given the rule for the use of the word ' r e d ' . W e are being t a u g h t the m e a n i n g of the word ' r e d ' . I t seems to m e t h a t theological or doctrinal statements are often of the second form. T h e y are giving us rules for the use of the word ' G o d ' . W i t h i n this use we m a y disagree a b o u t a p a r t i c u l a r application of the concept. W e m a y a r g u e over w h e t h e r it is p r o p e r to speak of a n incident as a n expression of G o d ' s love. But in saying ' G o d is love' we are being t a u g h t one of the m e a n i n g s of the word ' G o d ' . T h e description of a p a r t i c u l a r object is not given in the s a m p l e ' T h i s is r e d ' . T o find out w h e t h e r the p a r t i c u l a r object is red you have to look. But in the doctrinal s t a t e m e n t s we are given the p a r a m e t e r s of w h a t can be said of G o d . I f , then, the doctrine is opposed and another proposed, the conflict in question is itself a grammatical conflict, not a factual conflict within an already agreed grammar. Rhees d r a w s the contrast as follows: W i n s t o n Churchill m a y be a P r i m e M i n i s t e r a n d also a c o m p a n y director, but I might come to know h i m without knowing this. But I could not know G o d without knowing t h a t he was the C r e a t o r a n d F a t h e r of all things. T h a t would be like saying t h a t I might come to know Churchill w i t h o u t knowing t h a t he h a d face, h a n d s , body, voice or any of the attributes of a h u m a n being. 5 N o w this has an i m p o r t a n t b e a r i n g on the issue of doctrinal

a n d religious disagreement. W e see that the differences show in the different roles which religious ideas play in people's lives. Rhees asks, ' H o w would the peoples of different races know w h e t h e r they m e a n t the same or w h e t h e r they m e a n t s o m e t h i n g different in speaking of God? O r t h e m e m b e r s of different sects?' 6 H e replies, I suppose it would be the role which the word played in connexion with the different manifestations of religion a n d religious belief — in the one race a n d in the other say. W i t h i n a single tradition, like t h a t of the H e b r e w religion, it can be said that the a u t h o r of the second half of I s a i a h m e a n t the same by ' G o d ' as the a u t h o r (or authors) of Genesis did, a n d that St. P a u l m e a n t t h e same by ' G o d ' as both of t h e m because of the continuity of H e b r e w w o r s h i p a n d of the kind of worship that was, the i m p o r t a n c e of such conceptions as ' t h e G o d of o u r f a t h e r s ' , ' t h e G o d of A b r a h a m a n d the G o d of J a c o b ' , a n d so on. B u t for P a u l the s a m e G o d could be worshipped by gentiles w h o were not the seed of A b r a h a m a n d J a c o b . A n d if the gentiles w o r s h i p the s a m e G o d , then this m u s t a p p e a r in w h a t they say a b o u t G o d , in the way they w o r s h i p a n d in w h a t it m e a n s , to t h e m to be creatures a n d children of G o d . T o ask 'Do they w o r s h i p the s a m e G o d or not?' is to ask a b o u t that. 7 A n d w h e n we examine the role these ideas play we'll discover differences. Again, as Rhees says, Obviously there is no clear line which divides those w h o w o r s h i p the same G o d f r o m those w h o d o not (or even those w h o w o r s h i p G o d at all f r o m those w h o d o not), a n d we find that some sects are tolerant of one a n o t h e r a n d some are not. (I think there a r e still Scottish Presbyterians w h o refer to the R o m a n Catholic c h u r c h as 'the W h o r e of Babylon'.) But the fact t h a t there is no s h a r p line does not m e a n t h a t there is no distinction. A n d the question w h e t h e r we m e a n the s a m e by ' G o d ' m a y be an i m p o r t a n t one. It is a question of the role which o u r statements a b o u t G o d play in o u r worship a n d in our lives. O r , if we are outside religion a n d discussing it, the reference is still to the use the language has a m o n g those w h o practise it. 8

As far as the philosopher is concerned, his work is over w h e n he notes this situation, ragged as it is, with as m u c h clarity as he can achieve. An ecumenically m i n d e d theologian, on the o t h e r h a n d , is working within the situation, hoping to c h a n g e it in certain respects. T h e difficulty in locating the audience to which Lindbeck belongs is d u e to the fact t h a t while, on the one h a n d , he is u n d o u b t e d l y an ecumenically m i n d e d theologian, he seems to think, on the other h a n d , t h a t the theological enterprise can be f u r t h e r e d by philosophical means. But he is not consistent in these m a t t e r s , hence the difficulty of locating his audience. H a v i n g noted t h a t doctrinal s t a t e m e n t s are g r a m m a t i c a l statements, Lindbeck says t h a t the g r a m m a r is 'inevitably imperfect' because it has exceptions, a n d m a y only express surface g r a m m a r a n d miss the d e p t h g r a m m a r . T h e s e remarks, borrowed it seems f r o m Wittgenstein's use of ' g r a m m a r ' , are confused. If a doctrinal s t a t e m e n t is understood to be a g r a m m a t i c a l s t a t e m e n t , it c a n n o t have exceptions, since it is in terms of the g r a m m a r t h a t we d e t e r m i n e w h a t is to count as the rule a n d w h a t is to count as an exception to it. I n Wittgenstein, t h e contrast between surface g r a m m a r a n d d e p t h g r a m m a r refers to one source of philosophical confusion. W e m a y be confused by t h e surface g r a m m a r of a proposition into thinking its logic is quite different f r o m w h a t would be revealed if we examined the actual contexts of its application (its d e p t h g r a m m a r ) . T h u s ' G o d is love' m a y mislead us into thinking t h a t it is a descriptive s t a t e m e n t r a t h e r t h a n a rule for the use of the word ' G o d ' . O n c e we g r a s p Wittgenstein's use of the distinction between surface a n d d e p t h g r a m m a r , we can see t h a t we c a n n o t speak of the real g r a m m a r of a doctrine as confused, or as only expressing surface g r a m m a r . T h a t w a y of speaking is unintelligible if ' g r a m m a r ' is being used in a n y t h i n g like the way in which Wittgenstein used the term. As we h a v e seen, the mediation of a doctrinal s t a t e m e n t m a y vary enormously, as widely, Lindbeck tells us, as the difference between a medieval scholastic a n d a c o n t e m p o r a r y liberationist. H e thinks, however, t h a t despite the different mediations they are still mediations of the s a m e doctrine. I think this m a y be contested. W e have to r e m e m b e r that g r a m m a r is explicated, not in the formal identification of a form of words, b u t in the way it shows itself in the roles religious ideas have in the lives of the believers. T h a t being so, w h e n some of these roles are spelled out, others m a y react to t h e m by saying t h a t they are not instances of faithfulness to t h a t doctrine at all. T h e only identity the ' u n f a i t h f u l '

mediation has with the 'faithful' doctrine is t h a t in j u d g i n g it, it is an additional sin on its p a r t to have desecrated so hallowed a form of words. So there are no g r o u n d s for L i n d b e c k ' s optimistic assertion, ' T o the degree that religions are like languages they can obviously r e m a i n the s a m e a m i d vast t r a n s f o r m a t i o n s of affirmation a n d experience.' 9 T o so a r g u e would be like saying t h a t w h e n someone c o m m e n t s on a c o n t e m p o r a r y b a r b a r i s m by saying 'Look w h a t the English l a n g u a g e has become', the identity of the English language r e m a i n s the s a m e despite the b a r b a r i c transformation! Lindbeck's distinction between conditional a n d unconditional rules does not circumvent this difficulty. T o love G o d a n d to love one's n e i g h b o u r m a y be said to be unconditional rules, but, given certain mediations of t h e m , there is still an issue w h e t h e r we can be said to be talking of the same c o m m a n d m e n t in all cases. T h i s is not to deny L i n d b e c k ' s point t h a t some doctrines a n d theological formulations are more central t h a n others. T h e point is t h a t even in the central cases, not to m e n t i o n the others, no j u d g e m e n t of sameness a n d continuity can be g u a r a n t e e d in the way Lindbeck thinks it can. All he says a b o u t the flexibility a n d sensitivity which is necessary in c h a n g i n g circumstances can be accepted. It still r e m a i n s the case t h a t theological j u d g e m e n t s a b o u t the c h a r a c t e r of w h a t is h a p p e n i n g m a y vary. Looked at externally, this situation is unlikely to change. T h a t being so, the philosopher looking at it, leaves ragged w h a t is ragged. Lindbeck, as a theologian, works for different ends. W h a t we have seen is t h a t the appreciation of theology as a form of g r a m m a r is not, in itself, a servant o f h i s theological perspective. Lindbeck does not deny the vast variety of perspectives both within the m a i n s t r e a m C h r i s t i a n traditions a n d within the sects. O f course, to speak of m a i n s t r e a m traditions a n d of sects is already to invoke a theological distinction. I n the midst of this variety he asks ' W h o are the c o m p e t e n t practitioners? W h o have the pious ears?' 1 0 But whose question is this? F r o m w h a t a u d i e n c e does it come? A non-theological investigator simply takes the question as one referring to a s a m p l e of w h a t most people believe. All t h a t answers, however, is the question of w h a t most people believe at a certain time. I t does not tell one w h e t h e r those people are pious or not. L i n d b e c k ' s own a t t e m p t s at locating this pious a u d i e n c e are extremely puzzling. O n the s a m e page we find him saying first this: Membership

in

a

mainstream

community

does

not

g u a r a n t e e c o m p e t e n c e ... most C h r i s t i a n s t h r o u g h most of C h r i s t i a n history have spoken their own official tongue very poorly. I t h a s not become a native language, the p r i m a r y m e d i u m in which they can think, feel, act, d r e a m . T h u s lacking competence, they cannot, f r o m the cultural-linguistic perspective, be p a r t of that consensus fidelium against which doctrinal proposals are t e s t e d . " A n d , then, this: T h e linguistically competent, to recapitulate, are to be sought in the m a i n s t r e a m , r a t h e r t h a n in isolated backwaters or ingrown sects uninterested in c o m m u n i c a t i n g widely. T h e y must, in other words, be w h a t in the past centuries was m e a n t by 'catholic' or ' o r t h o d o x ' a n d w h a t we now generally call 'ecumenical'. F u r t h e r , the c o m p e t e n c e t h a t they have m u s t to some extent be empirically recognizable. As in the case of native speakers of n a t u r a l languages, they are not tied to fixed formulas, b u t r a t h e r can u n d e r s t a n d , speak a n d discriminate between the endless varieties of necessarily innovative ways of using both old a n d new vocabularies to address u n p r e c e d e n t e d situations. While they have no formal theological training they are likely to be s a t u r a t e d with the l a n g u a g e of Scripture a n d / o r liturgy. O n e might, p e r h a p s , call t h e m flexibly devout: they have so interiorized the g r a m m a r of their religion t h a t they a r e reliable j u d g e s , not directly of doctrinal formulations (for these m a y be too technical for t h e m to u n d e r s t a n d ) , but of the acceptability or unacceptability of the consequences of these formulations in o r d i n a r y religious life a n d language. 1 2 T h e two q u o t a t i o n s contradict each other in their non-reliance a n d reliance on m a i n s t r e a m traditions. W h a t e v e r of that, the analogy between religion a n d l a n g u a g e will not do. W e can have regrets a b o u t w h a t is h a p p e n i n g in the language; regrets a b o u t ways of talking a n d thinking t h a t come to d o m i n a t e people's minds. T h e r e is no logical contradiction, therefore, in calling the state of religion, at a n y time, m a i n s t r e a m a n d d e c a d e n t . As we saw earlier, the survival of a set of f o r m u l a e does not in itself constitute the continuity of the one Faith, if the m e d i a t i o n of the formulae varies enormously from w h a t one takes the F a i t h to be. I t is staggering, therefore, to h e a r Lindbeck conclude: ' T h e

reliability of their a g r e e m e n t in doctrinal m a t t e r s m a y not be improperly called infallible.' 1 3 B u t before we proceed with the obvious criticism t h a t a g r e e m e n t in procedures c a n n o t be identified with religious truth, we find Lindbeck c h a n g i n g his g r o u n d . Recall t h a t his original question was ' W h o have the pious ears?' Suddenly, we find t h a t the only question he can a n s w e r is the question of w h a t is to count as d o m i n a n t C h r i s t i a n practice at a n y given time, where this is to be understood in a purely formal sense. T h e r e , of course, the m a j o r i t y have it. But questions of religious t r u t h a n d piety c a n n o t be settled in this way. T h i n k of a p p l y i n g this m e t h o d to the beginnings of Christianity. O n these criteria, the Christians could only be called a sect. Lindbeck has to a d m i t that questions of religious t r u t h are themselves m a t t e r s of religious j u d g e m e n t . M o r e should be h e a r d on this issue, for there are times w h e n Lindbeck seems dangerously close to conflating the t r u t h with w h a t in fact proves acceptable. I n so far as he does so, his conception of religious t r u t h comes dangerously close to Rorty's conception of the d o m i n a n t voice in the h e r m e n e u t i c conversation, or to Berger's claim t h a t w h a t we m e a n by reality is determined by w h o wields the bigger stick. In fact he is influenced by the vulgarisation of social m o v e m e n t s in the analysis of t h e m provided by Berger. W h e n m o v e m e n t s find themselves in a competitive m a r k e t p l a c e Berger says, as we saw, t h a t their policies should be d e t e r m i n e d by the d y n a m i c s of c o n s u m e r preference. I n this way, the genuine interests of the m o v e m e n t s themselves are treated with a complete lack of seriousness. Despite the twists a n d t u r n s of his a r g u m e n t , the a u d i e n c e Lindbeck h a s to face is the familiar ragged one of different religious traditions a n d e m p h a s e s present to us within Christianity, not to m e n t i o n different religions. Lindbeck is quite right w h e n he says that within this variety the d i s a g r e e m e n t s are often d i s a g r e e m e n t s over an a p p r o p r i a t e g r a m m a r for the word ' G o d ' : 'they would involve disagreements on where p r o p e r g r a m m a r is to be f o u n d , on w h o are the c o m p e t e n t speakers of a religious language. T h e progressives would a p p e a l to rebels, the conservatives to establishments, a n d Catholics a n d Protestants would continue to differ in their u n d e r s t a n d i n g s of the relation of Scripture a n d tradition.' 1 4 Despite this variety, Lindbeck w a n t s to conclude, 'Nevertheless, the c o m m o n f r a m e w o r k would m a k e possible, though not g u a r a n t e e , genuine a r g u m e n t s over the relative a d e q u a c y of specifically different positions.' 1 5 O f course,

discussion m a y occur, b u t my a r g u m e n t has been t h a t there is nothing in L i n d b e c k ' s g r a m m a t i c a l insights, at their best, which prescribes t h a t this should be so. T h e variety to which he should direct his attention shows as m a n y g r a m m a t i c a l contrasts as g r a m m a t i c a l similarities in theology. H e h a s to a d m i t 'such a r g u m e n t s are difficult, however, w h e n theologies have formally different views of religion. T h e p r o b l e m ... is t h a t each theology is e m b e d d e d in a conceptual f r a m e w o r k so comprehensive t h a t it shapes its own criteria of a d e q u a c y . ' 1 6 Lindbeck hopes to get over this difficulty by his distinction between revisible a n d irrevisible theological explications of doctrine. As we have already seen, however, this distinction does not remove such difficulties. L i n d b e c k ' s chief concern, at the end of the book, m u s t be a concern for any serious theologian: the question of how religion is to be proclaimed in the world in which we find ourselves. H e says rightly, ' T h e g r a m m a r of religion, like t h a t of language, c a n n o t be explicated or learned by analysis of experience, but only by practice.' 1 ' But w h a t h a s t h a t practice become? For m a n y , religion has lost its distinctiveness by b e c o m i n g s u b s u m e d in some wider non-religious enterprise. As Lindbeck p u t s it, it h a s been transposed into alien speech. M o d e r n p r o b l e m s have to be identified, but a distinctively C h r i s t i a n perspective m u s t be b r o u g h t to bear on them. T h e theologian m u s t renew 'the ancient practice of a b s o r b i n g the universe into the biblical world. M a y their tribe increase.' 1 8 T h i s is a p r a y e r most theologians will echo, but finding an answer to the p r a y e r c a n n o t be m a d e a m a t t e r of policy. Lindbeck says that Reinhold N i e b u h r was the last theologian w h o m a d e great efforts in this direction. But, then, he was able to do so, not because he m a d e doing so a policy. T h e question of why he was able to do so can usually only be answered, with any profit, retrospectively. O n e can point to m a n y factors in the situation in which he wrote a n d so on. But, at the end of the day, we are faced with the b r u t e fact t h a t this m a n was able to write in the way he did. W h a t we have to u n d e r s t a n d is not a general theory, b u t him a n d w h a t he h a d to say. Put religiously, we would say t h a t the Holy Spirit used these people in a distinctive way (or deny that they were so used). B u t these are retrospective j u d g e m e n t s . Lindbeck indulges in predictive j u d g e m e n t s : ' G o d will not withold his g u i d a n c e f r o m theologians w h o p r a y for it, a n d p e r h a p s not even f r o m some w h o d o not pray.' 1 9 O n both scores, I d o not think we can indulge in a priori pessimism or optimism.

I have h a d difficulty in locating the audience Lindbeck is addressing or speaking from. N o w a n d again I seem to have identified it only for its character to elude me. I do not think Lindbeck himself could identify it for me, since I think he is the victim of more t h a n one audience a n d their voices have become confused in his. T h e r e are times w h e n the voice with which he speaks is clear a n d i m p o r t a n t . T h e r e are other times w h e n the voice is m u d d l e d a n d confused. I think he h a s inflated hopes of the help philosophy can give to theologians faced with the p h e n o m e n o n of doctrinal disagreement. H e says that he has been influenced by Wittgenstein but that Wittgenstein's influence in general 'does not a p p e a r to have yet inspired consideration of problems of doctrinal constancy a n d c h a n g e a n d of a g r e e m e n t a n d disagreement with which this book is concerned.' 2 0 P e r h a p s not, but I hope my c o m m e n t s have indicated the limits of w h a t one's expectations should be. Someone learned in doctrine a n d its disputes, in a way I a m not, could give illuminating examples to illustrate w h a t a g r e e m e n t a n d d i s a g r e e m e n t come to in this area. T h e philosopher could bring out, as I hope to have d o n e to some extent, the kind of dispute a theological dispute is; how it is often a m a t t e r of a conflict of g r a m m a r . As far as philosophy is concerned, t h a t ragged scene must be left ragged. O f course, the scene m a y change. A theologian m a y arise with such a vision that long-standing differences dissolve in some wider alle m b r a c i n g perspective. Some m a y think the coming of such a vision likely, others m a y think it unlikely. If it came, m a n y would greet it as the work of the Holy Spirit. I should be surprised if there were not others w h o would see it as the work of the Devil. T h a t these d i s a g r e e m e n t s are likely is no trivial m a t t e r . It shows t h a t religious a n d theological questions are m a t t e r s over which people do disagree in this way. It is p a r t of their g r a m m a r , one might say.

Notes 1. Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine, p. 65. 2. Ibid., p. 66. 3. Ibid., p. 69. 4. Ibid., p. 74. 5. Rhees, 'Religion and Language', p. 131. 6. Ibid., p. 129. 7. Ibid. 8. Ibid., pp. 129-30. 9. Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine, p. 84. 10. Ibid., p. 99. 11. Ibid., p. 100. 12. Ibid. 13. Ibid. 14. Ibid., p. 113. 15. Ibid. 16. Ibid. 17. Ibid., p. 129. 18. Ibid., p. 135. 19. Ibid., p. 102. 20. Ibid., p. 24.

G r a m m a r Without Foundations

Epistemological f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m claimed to have the m e a n s to assess epistemic practices, showing which were rational a n d which were irrational. Theologians often accept, uncritically, t h a t philosophers will tell t h e m w h a t it is for statements to be meaningful. A r m e d with the answer, the theologians claim to establish the meaningfulness of religious statements. O r so the story goes. W h a t usually h a p p e n s is t h a t the theologian is already convinced t h a t religion has m e a n i n g a n d then searches a r o u n d , in a s o m e w h a t unedifying fashion, for the philosophical theory best suited to w h a t he w a n t s to say a b o u t religion. M a n y philosophers are all too ready to assess religion by arriving at some generic concept of m e a n i n g by which to j u d g e it. As a result, 'it has been solemnly declared t h a t there a r e kinds of m e a n i n g a n d t h a t some l a n g u a g e is cognitively meaningful, some is emotively m e a n i n g f u l , a n d some is altogether meaningless.' 1 W e saw such distinctions at work in George L i n d b e c k ' s discussion of the logical status of doctrinal statements. I n s t e a d of discussing the actual m e a n i n g s they are puzzled or confused by, philosophers proceed to discuss the kinds of m e a n i n g they believe these meanings are. T h e philosophical terms take on a life of their own, their characters being t h o u g h t of as c o m m e n d a t o r y or pejorative. T h u s , it is sufficient to say, in certain philosophical circles, t h a t an analysis is non-cognitive a n d emotive, to c o n d e m n it. W h e n discussion is carried on at this level, the p r i m a r y l a n g u a g e which occasioned the original puzzlement is soon forgotten. In opposing these tendencies, Paul H o l m e r has learned from Wittgenstein in coming to see for himself that there can be no generic theory of m e a n i n g by which

we can say t h a t scientific language is more m e a n i n g f u l t h a n religious l a n g u a g e ... I n fact, the whole notion of m e a n i n g is itself confused a n d it m i g h t be better simply to say t h a t we can learn the differences between ways of speaking a n d ways of u n d e r s t a n d i n g ... O n e w a y to express this fully is to declare t h a t the logic of the discourse of science is not the s a m e as the logic of religion. A n o t h e r way is to note all the different ways t h a t we explain things to ourselves. For again there are m a n y kinds of explanation. E a c h kind h a s its context, its occasion, its own province, a n d its own function, relative to a specific need. W e are gradually learning t h a t kinds of explanations are not necessarily incompatible. T h e y are in fact i n c o m m e n s u r a b l e with one a n o t h e r , a n d hence there is no logical incompatibility of the radical sort. 2 If this i n c o m m e n s u r a b i l i t y is ignored, then, as we have seen, one kind of explanation can easily be taken as a p a r a d i g m for all others. Religious uses of l a n g u a g e a r e not logically odd, as I a n R a m s e y used to claim. If o r d i n a r y uses are p r i m a r y uses, then, in the a p p r o p r i a t e context, religious uses are p r i m a r y uses, o r d i n a r y uses. W e can never u n d e r s t a n d these uses if we ignore their n a t u r a l contexts. It was this conviction, H o l m e r argues, which was at the h e a r t of K i e r k e g a a r d ' s a n d B a r t h ' s protests against the alien p a r a d i g m s of rationality to which religious belief was subjected or which it was all too ready to a p p r o p r i a t e . Both thinkers expressed themselves over-lavishly at times, but, even so, there is little excuse for calling t h e m irrationalists a n d subjectivists. T h e s a m e fate has befallen Wittgenstein a n d those influenced by him in the philosophy of religion. H o l m e r brings out why: T h e fact t h a t Wittgenstein a n d other analytic logicians have m a d e strong r e m a r k s a b o u t forms of life having an ultimacy has also created the notion t h a t theology is like metaphysics in not being any longer the final court of justification. If forms of life are foundational, then it looks as though fideism is more crucial t h a n theology. 3 So it is t h a t followers of Wittgenstein a n d Wittgenstein himself are a s s u m e d to be of the m i n d t h a t denies t h a t there is a recognizable kind of knowledge of G o d a n d that therefore theology is not truly cognitive, objective a n d rational. O d d l y enough, B a r t h i a n s ,

K i e r k e g a a r d i a n s , a n d Wittgensteinians together look like the o p p o n e n t s of cognitivity a n d rationality in religion, but only if a certain p a t t e r n of rationality is taken to be normative. 4 H o l m e r ' s m a i n point here is that, once again, the categorising of the philosophers he mentions is characterised by a woefully impoverished a n d one-sided conception of rationality. I a m j u s t a little concerned, however, at the extent to which H o l m e r is anxious to have a philosophical term like 'cognitive' applied to religion, almost as if it were the very kind of s t a m p of a p p r o v a l he criticises so well. H o l m e r says it is an a c a d e m i c a n d hence a confoundedly difficult prejudice to eradicate, namely, t h a t objective, real, true, logical, rational, a n d other words of this extensive criteriological sort are manifest in meaning, u n v a r i e g a t e d in use, simple to u n d e r s t a n d , a n d plainly r u d i m e n t a r y a n d underived in i m p o r t . T h o u g h we use t h e m in every context, a n d t h o u g h we a r e all endowed with sufficient capacity to use some of t h e m in telling ways, they are still not transcendentals a n d context-free. T h e fact is t h a t they are used in several contexts, a n d they become context-dependent. So we have to be clear a b o u t the specifics in each case. Rational, objective, true, real, e t c , are always 'in respect to so a n d so'; a n d then the expressions m a k e sense a n d engage a subject m a t t e r a n d a thinker. 5 W h a t H o l m e r does not consider, however, is the possibility that the status of some of these criteriological words is b o u n d u p with their confused philosophical use. I n t h a t case, insisting that they be applied to religion a n d other forms of discourse m a y do m o r e h a r m t h a n good. It m a y p e r p e t u a t e the very philosophical malaise H o l m e r says is so difficult to eradicate. After all, does a term like 'cognitive' belong to the p r i m a r y language of either religion or theology? W o u l d using it help us to u n d e r s t a n d something we would not arrive at by considering o r d i n a r y l a n g u a g e in this context? T o repeat H o l m e r ' s own earlier suggestion, 'it might be better simply to say t h a t we can learn the differences between ways of speaking a n d ways of u n d e r s t a n d i n g ' . 6 O n c e these g r a m m a t i c a l differences are appreciated, we see that the respective g r a m m a r s do not s t a n d in need of justifications

or foundations. Yet m a n y theologians insist on providing such f o u n d a t i o n s in one form or a n o t h e r , a n d m u c h of H o l m e r ' s work is concerned with exposing their confusions. T h e r e are four categories of theologians w h o m he sees as would-be providers of f o u n d a t i o n s for religious belief. First, H o l m e r mentions those w h o think that implicit in the living Faith is the philosophical f o u n d a t i o n of it. T h e y call it theism. I n d e e d , there are those for w h o m a rejection of philosophical theism is t a n t a m o u n t to a rejection of religion. 7 As H o l m e r says, ' T h e r e is something a b s u r d a b o u t this. Crucifying J e s u s , living faithlessly, a n d loving the world with all one's heart, soul, mind a n d strength tend then to become trivialities c o m p a r e d with denying theism. It is almost as if the academics have m a d e crucial w h a t was not so initially.' 8 F u r t h e r , theism is t h o u g h t to be a conceptual scheme c o m m o n to Christianity, J u d a i s m a n d Islam, on which their rationality depends. But, in countless philosophy classes, the traditional a r g u m e n t s associated with theism are subjected to d e v a s t a t i n g criticisms. T h e traditional proofs for the existence of G o d which, arguably, began as a t t e m p t s to u n d e r s t a n d the Faith f r o m within it, are now m a d e to s t a n d alone as external a t t e m p t s at proof which, of course, invariably fail. B u t if a severe d i s p l a c e m e n t of the so-called proofs h a s occurred, we can see t h a t concepts at work in a living Faith do not derive their m e a n i n g a n d vitality from the a b s t r a c t concepts of theism. O n the contrary, w h a t e v e r life theism ever h a d in it was derived from the special, b u t o r d i n a r y concepts of a working Faith. I a m not overlooking the fact t h a t a b s t r a c t concepts have found their way, by various routes, into creeds a n d declarations of Faith. Even so, to the extent t h a t they have any life there, it will not be by forming the a b s t r a c t f o u n d a t i o n s of Faith, b u t by having a lively application within it. Second, H o l m e r mentions those theologians w h o think t h a t Faith needs to be m a d e secure t h r o u g h historical investigation. H e r e , the notion of a p a r a d i g m of w h a t it is to be real plays a p r o m i n e n t part. History offers a seductive p a r a d i g m : to be real is to a n s w e r to the facts. It is no p a r t of H o l m e r ' s intention to denigrate historical scholarship. O n the contrary, he praises its achievements in relation to the history of religions as m u c h as he does elsewhere. His concern is different. I t is a concern with someone w h o comes to e q u a t e knowledge of religions with religious knowledge. T h e fact t h a t the latter p h r a s e is often used in schools to refer to the f o r m e r does not help. T h e t e r m 'religious instruction'

fares no better. H o l m e r is worried at signs of m a n y settling for historical knowledge as if it were a n a d e q u a t e substitute for theology. T h e r e is a desperate confusion in the a s s u m p t i o n t h a t such a substitution makes sense. H o l m e r says: Theology does not at every j u n c t u r e d e m a n d a n historical u n d e r s t a n d i n g before it can be reasserted in our day. T o m a k e t h a t case supposes far too s t a n d a r d i z e d a view ... there m a y be instances of literature, New T e s t a m e n t a n d O l d , Shakespeare, Moliere, or Plato, where one needs to know the time a n d occasion before one gets the drift of w h a t was said. But these are p a r t i c u l a r instances where historical u n d e r s t a n d i n g is a necessary priority. M o s t instances of the New T e s t a m e n t , for example, are not like that. O n e suspects t h a t it is far more i m p o r t a n t t h a n most historical material to learn to h u n g e r a n d thirst for righteousness, to learn to love a neighbour, a n d to achieve a high degree of selfconcern, in order to u n d e r s t a n d the religious themes of the N e w T e s t a m e n t . T h e r e are, in short, personality qualifications t h a t a r e also required. P e r h a p s it is even essential to have learned guilt because one h a s not d o n e as he ought to have done. I n a n y case, these forms of h u m a n consciousness are closer to the prerequisites for a C h r i s t i a n ' s u n d e r s t a n d i n g t h a n is most knowledge supplied by other scholars. 9 But the metaphysical notion of 'factuality' dies h a r d . W h e n someone becomes convinced t h a t the t r u t h s of religion c a n n o t be ascertained by historical investigation, he m a y be t e m p t e d to create a conception of a different kind of history, religious history, which h a s to do with special facts — religious facts. Alternatively, he will stick to the notion of historical factuality a n d simply claim the a u t h o r i t y of the Bible for saying t h a t the facts are s u c h - a n d such. I n this way, historical fruits can be enjoyed without historical labours. T h e Bible, in its t u r n , is said to be based on the facts, facts to do with G o d himself. So the elevation of actuality in the third g r o u p of theologians in H o l m e r ' s audience, characterises a whole theological s p e c t r u m , f r o m liberalism to conservatism. I do not w a n t to enter into a discussion over w h e t h e r there is m o r e loss t h a n profit involved in talking of factuality where the existence of G o d is concerned. I suppose t h a t w h e n K i e r k e g a a r d said, ' G o d does not exist, he is eternal' 1 0 he was noting the limits of usefulness in talking of facts a n d of finding out the facts. Still, t h e

i m p o r t a n t point, a n d one with which H o l m e r concurs, is t h a t if we are going to speak of religious facts, all the g r a m m a t i c a l work has still to be done. W e have to show how talk of facts in this context differs f r o m talk of facts in o t h e r contexts. W e would need to be clear a b o u t w h a t finding out the facts, discovering the facts, or being mistaken a b o u t the facts, would a m o u n t to where religious m a t t e r s a r e concerned. T h e r e would be similarities enough with other contexts, b u t there would be huge differences. I suspect w h a t is i m p o r t a n t would lie in these differences. H o l m e r ' s c o m p l a i n t against the liberal is t h a t he either thinks that w h a t is f u n d a m e n t a l can be discovered by historical investigation or else extends the notions of history a n d factuality in a technical usage of his own devising. If historical investigation is p u t aside as a m e a n s of arriving at the f u n d a m e n t a l facts, their discovery is said to be d e p e n d e n t on these new conceptual categories of the theologian's making. Neither alternative yields w h a t is f u n d a m e n t a l . W h a t is needed is an u n d e r s t a n d i n g of the fact that G o d has reconciled the world to himself in C h r i s t a n d other f u n d a m e n t a l facts of the Gospel. Of course, to reach this u n d e r s t a n d i n g we m u s t come to terms with the Gospel. But this Gospel, H o l m e r insists, is waiting for us to come to terms with it. I t is not itself waiting on the latest theories of theologians. H o l m e r ' s c o m p l a i n t against the conservative is t h a t in his eagerness to be faithful to w h a t he thinks are the plain facts of the Gospel, he in fact displaces t h e m f r o m their n a t u r a l context. T h e conservative wishes to say t h a t the whole of the revelation he e m b r a c e s is based on something called 'the facts'. H e w a n t s to begin with the facts a n d found his religion on them. But, H o l m e r insists, it is only in the context of revelation t h a t we can come to see w h a t talk of facts a m o u n t s to here. T h e conservative, in invoking a conception of factuality outside this context, is himself in the grip of the very metaphysical conceptions he claims to have no room for. M o r e i m p o r t a n t l y , for H o l m e r , the conservative's desire to be given the facts before he begins, as it were, is a n instance of w h a t K i e r k e g a a r d called 'foreshortening eternity' or 'taking eternity by storm'. 1 1 T h e a p p r o p r i a t i o n of religious facts c a n n o t be achieved all at once in the way the conservative seems to think. W h a t does it m e a n to a p p r o p r i a t e the fact t h a t G o d has reconciled the world to himself in Christ? T h a t a p p r o p r i a t i o n , H o l m e r would say, is a personal m a t t e r . It c a n n o t be done on behalf of a n y o n e by another. T o take t h a t t r u t h into one's life is w h a t accepting it, a p p r o p r i a t i n g it, a m o u n t s

to. It is an a p p r o p r i a t i o n which is never over a n d done with in this life. It involves C h r i s t i a n patience to the end. W h e n we r e m e m b e r contexts such as these, we see how misplaced it is to speak of a n a p p r o p r i a t i o n of facts effected, somehow, before one even begins to consider m a t t e r s of religious i m p o r t . O . K . B o u w s m a spoke h u m o r o u s l y of the lost first book of the Bible, 'Pre-Genesis', in which all the facts were given on which the rest of the Bible depends. M a n y theologians of different schools a r e engaged on enterprises which a s s u m e that, although we m a y never find it, 'Pre-Genesis' exists or existed. 1 2 T h e fourth g r o u p of theologians which m a k e u p H o l m e r ' s audience react against the e n d e a v o u r s of those theologians we have already m e n t i o n e d . D e s p a i r i n g at those a t t e m p t s to m a k e religious assent intellectual assent, a n d d i s m a y e d at the a r r a y of theologies f r o m which they a r e asked to choose, these theologians e m p h a s i s e the i m p o r t a n c e of religious experience, a religious experience free f r o m theology. H o l m e r sympathises with the initial reactions of these theologians, b u t not with the implications they d r a w f r o m them. Despair at confused theologies should not lead one to jettison theology altogether. Experience w i t h o u t the g o v e r n a n c e of theology is wild a n d undisciplined. F u r t h e r m o r e , t u r n i n g a w a y f r o m the concepts of the C h r i s t i a n Faith t o w a r d s experience is to m i s u n d e r s t a n d the role of these concepts. W h e n they are not intellectualised b e y o n d all recognition by theologians, we can see t h a t to g r a s p a concept is to develop a capacity. T h e C h r i s t i a n concept of agape, or love, is a typically familiar one. But there are m o r e — G o d , hope, grace, r e p e n t a n c e , sin, guilt, sanctification, holiness, faith, creation, Saviour, L o r d , crucifixion, gospel, forgiveness, a n d m a n y others. M a n y of these words are otherwise familiar; b u t it does seem t h a t in specifically J e w i s h a n d C h r i s t i a n contexts, one does something distinctive with t h e m . T h i s distinctive power is tied u p very concretely with the expectations a n d qualities of being a J e w a n d / o r a C h r i s t i a n with a t t e n d a n t forms of life, of concern, a n d of emotion. 1 3 So to a p p r o p r i a t e theological concepts is to learn the a u t h o r i s a t i o n for all kinds of dispositions, feelings, passions, virtues, a n d deeds that m a k e one's daily living something distinctive. T h e y

even p r o d u c e a n o t h e r view of the world a n d h u m a n life ... So we have to r e m e m b e r t h a t theological teachings have also the power to commission their hearers. T o be commissioned is to be given something to do. Religious teaching challenges people out of their complacency into a radical kind of behaviour. It makes disciples of the hearers. Therefore, to u n d e r s t a n d theology a n d to evince a c o m m a n d of its concepts is to be s p u r n e d , to be humiliated, to be stirred to contrition, to be p r e p a r e d for joy. T h e r e is even a way to u n d e r s t a n d all h u m a n beings as if they were profoundly sick. T h i s is also a C h r i s t i a n way. T h e C h r i s t i a n m o d e of talking is supposed to completely alter the way of sick lives, a n d the task is to cure one person at a time. 1 4 W h e n theology is a p p r e c i a t e d in the light of these remarks, we see t h a t the desire to have religious experience free f r o m theology is a deeply confused one. It is often characteristic of religious forms of r o m a n t i c i s m . W e have now noted four kinds of theologians w h o feature large in the confused audience H o l m e r takes himself to be addressing. I have simply c o m m e n t e d on a n d illustrated the ideas H o l m e r attacks without mentioning any theologians by n a m e . Suffice it to say t h a t in the course of his criticisms H o l m e r provides plenty of examples of theologians from all periods of theology, including our own, w h o have been guilty of the confusions to which he addresses himself. O n e feature d o m i n a t e s these confused theologies: instead of being of the Faith, they are about the Faith. T h e y s t a n d in external relations to a living faith. As a result, is it any w o n d e r to see the discredit in which theology s t a n d s today? F r o m the point of view of the religious laity 'theology is painfully a b s t r a c t ... a specialist's d o m a i n ... i m p r a c t i c a l . . . of no use to the laity ... a b o u t m a t t e r s that do not a n d c a n n o t concern those w h o are n o n a c a d e m i c ' . 1 5 W i t h i n theological circles the study of theology tends to become an end in itself. So within universities a n d centres for the study of religion theology can itself become an a c a d e m i c g a m e . I n this context, H o l m e r ' s words are likely to cut deep. In such places, the sheer opulence of points of view a n d the thick harvest of historical antecedents give a revivification by scholarship a n d cause d i m overviews to develop a b o u t the d e v e l o p m e n t of doctrine a n d the necessity t h a t one

succeed a n o t h e r . After a while, it becomes a lot easier to believe this vague metaview t h a t makes one sceptical a b o u t any p a r t i c u l a r theology of an individual or of a c h u r c h t h a n it is to be a lively believer a n d hearty p a r t i c i p a n t in a n y one theology a n d its related practices. T h e point t h a t seems so d i s t u r b i n g here is t h a t these chaotic developmental views are so easy to teach a n d that they are no longer linked to a n y t h i n g save the most obvious a c c o m m o d a t i o n to the 'Zeitgeist'. T h e y serve also to divorce most people f r o m the practice of religion itself, a n d instead create a sophisticated clientele t h a t is interested in theology as one more artifact cast u p in the course of time. 1 6 B u t this so-called sophisticated clientele is d o o m e d within t h e circles it desperately w a n t s to belong to, the cherished circle of a c a d e m i a . Since theology has been u p r o o t e d f r o m its p r o p e r role a n d t u r n e d into an intellectual system it c a n n o t be, the fate of such systems in the light of any worthwhile intellectual j u d g e m e n t is inevitable: 'And then theology is (just as u n f o r t u n a t e l y ) l u m p e d with speculative concerns, with metaphysics, with subjectivity a n d special interests, a n d , by its detractors, finally, with astrology, prescientific t h o u g h t , mythology, a n d make-believe.' 1 7 W h e n we t u r n aside f r o m these confusions to theology's p r o p e r task we find it is the g r a m m a r of the Faith. It teaches us the p a r a m e t e r s within which, as believers, we can come to know G o d . I t m a y a p p e a r in a codified form, b u t it c a n n o t be learned by rote. A p p r o p r i a t i o n in this context, as we have seen, is always personal a p p r o p r i a t i o n . Theology answers the question — w h a t is Christianity? B u t it tells us the answer by giving us the order a n d priorities, the s t r u c t u r e a n d morphology of t h e C h r i s t i a n faith. I t does this by placing the big words, like man, God, Jesus, world, in such a sequence a n d context t h a t their use becomes ruled for us. A n d if we begin to use words like that, with the a p p r o p r i a t e zest a n d p a t h o s , then we, too, become Godly as those earlier believers were. 1 8 A p p r e c i a t i n g the g r a m m a t i c a l role of theology h a s two i m p o r t a n t consequences. First we see t h a t 'the theologian gets no new revelation a n d has no special o r g a n for knowledge. H e is d e b t o r to w h a t we, in one sense, have already — the Scriptures a n d t h e

lives a n d the t h o u g h t s of the faithful.' 1 9 Second, 'this puts theology within the g r a s p of conscientious t e n t m a k e r s , tinkers like B u n y a n , lay people like B r o t h e r Lawrence, a n d m a y b e someone you know d o w n the street w h o s h a m e s you with his or her grasp'. 2 0 It m a y seem that c o m p a r e d with everything t h a t h a s been rejected, the task t h a t r e m a i n s for theology is a relatively modest one. N o t h i n g could be f u r t h e r f r o m the t r u t h . M a n y theologies think that to be comprehensive they have to be systematic. Starting f r o m the true a p p r e h e n s i o n that religious faith informs the whole of life, they conclude, wrongly, that one thing can b e a r on a n o t h e r only as parts of a system b e a r on one a n o t h e r . Conversations b e a r on one a n o t h e r too, but not in a systematic way. T h e l a n g u a g e of s e r m o n s a n d w o r s h i p bears on the l a n g u a g e of everyday speech a n d its m u l t i t u d e of concerns. As H o l m e r says, T h e point is t h a t the language of faith is not an artificial or contrived tongue. People speak in this way a n d in conjunction with Apostles, saints a n d the proposers of law a n d gospel. Faith, hope, grace, a n d other words become internal to one's life a n d its vicissitudes. Fairly soon, that language of faith is extended to all of one's planning, j u d g i n g , wishing, a n d even r e m e m b r a n c e of things past. J u d g e m e n t s are formed a n d ideas are f o r m u l a t e d as to w h a t life is all about. 2 1 All this could never take the form of a system. H o l m e r says that ' O r t h o d o x y in theology is never c a p a b l e of m u c h more refined definition t h a n t h a t supposed by the s o m e w h a t loose consensus of the faithful.' 2 2 But, in the m i d d l e of this richly variegated context, the theologian dares to b e c o m e t h e g u a r d i a n of the central r e m a r k s of the Faith. 2 3 W e have seen t h a t t h r o u g h o u t all he has said, H o l m e r has w a n t e d to e m p h a s i s e over a n d over again that religious belief is a m a t t e r of striving to be n e a r to G o d ; the practice of the presence of G o d , to use Brother L a w r e n c e ' s apt phrase. T h e practice of G o d ' s presence involves h u m b l i n g ourselves. W e become a w a r e of our pride, weakness a n d sin. H o l m e r concludes: 'Surely the one w h o is then h u m b l e d is also the one to w h o m the Lord G o d gives his grace a n d his spirit (1 Peter 5:5). But this is also how one becomes a true theologian, one w h o actually knows God.' 2 4 I n e x p o u n d i n g the four categories of foundationalist theologians, H o l m e r , p r e s u m a b l y , has two aims in m i n d . First, he w a n t s t h e m to stop doing w h a t they a r e doing, since it is

confused a n d confusing. T h i s is why w h a t H o l m e r has to say a p p e a r s so negative to his critics. But this is to miss the fact t h a t he w a n t s to recall theologians to a m o m e n t o u s task: t h a t of being g u a r d i a n s of the Faith. Second, he w a n t s to protect the laity against these theological trends; to impress on o r d i n a r y believers t h a t everything needful already s u r r o u n d s them, a n d t h a t they a r e not d e p e n d e n t on w h a t e v e r intellectual systems theologians are able to devise. H o w is H o l m e r ' s theological audience likely to react to his criticisms? T h e r e is, of course, the well-known a c a d e m i c strategy of ignoring a n y t h i n g that will upset the g a m e being played. T h a t a p a r t , w h a t is their reaction likely to be? If theologians are confronted by wholesale attacks on the metaphysical views on which they think religious belief d e p e n d s , they will search desperately for alternative metaphysical views. As we have already suggested, there is something comic in the way theologians h a v e h o p p e d f r o m one metaphysical view to another. W h a t they will not a d m i t , any m o r e than their philosophical c o u n t e r p a r t s , is t h a t w h e n a metaphysical view falls, it need not be replaced by a n o t h e r one. W e can settle for the gain in clarity achieved by seeing the confusions which led us to devise the theory in the first place. So w h a t is to be done a b o u t H o l m e r ' s book? After all, almost the whole of The Grammar of Faith is an a t t e m p t to rescue theology f r o m its metaphysical view of itself, to bring the practice of theology back f r o m its metaphysical to its o r d i n a r y use. H o w can that attack be b l u n t e d , if not ignored? H o l m e r predicted the m e t h o d to be employed: b l u n t the attack by treating it as if it were an additional metaphysical perspective. An excellent example of this is found in Cornel W e s t ' s review of The Grammar of Faith. W e s t outlines four m a j o r p a r a d i g m s in N o r t h A m e r i c a n theology today. T h e first, which he calls the historicized Kantian paradigm, derives f r o m the influence of H . R i c h a r d N i e b u h r . T h e second, the process paradigm, stems f r o m the work of Alfred N o r t h W h i t e h e a d a n d C h a r l e s H a r t s h o r n e . T h e writings of Husserl a n d Heidegger inform the third p a r a d i g m , the hermeneutical paradigm, while J a m e s C o n e initiated the fourth p a r a d i g m , the liberation paradigm. In each case, West notes not only the inspirers of the p a r a d i g m s , but also the promising theologians working today u n d e r the influence of each. H e also notes d r a w b a c k s he sees in each. Against such a b a c k g r o u n d he h a s H o l m e r m a k e an entry as someone who is offering us a fifth p a r a d i g m , a WittgensteinianKierkegaardian paradigm. Despite the fact t h a t West shows w h a t

H o l m e r is opposed to, nevertheless, characterising h i m as offering a p a r a d i g m , a fifth to better the four which have proved unsatisfactory, suggests a continuity of enterprise where none exists, a n y more t h a n there is a continuity between the desire to devise metaphysical systems and Kierkegaard's and Wittgenstein's attacks on them. H o l m e r would not say he h a d b r o u g h t a new viewpoint to bear on theology, but tried to recall it to w h a t , in one sense, it already is. But, for W e s t , ' H o l m e r h a s performed a n invaluable service by presenting a n d p r o m o t i n g a new a n d exciting v i e w p o i n t — t h e W i t t g e n s t e i n i a n - K i e r k e g a a r d i a n p a r a d i g m — on the N o r t h A m e r i c a n theological scene.' 2 5 T h e a c a d e m i c practitioners can b r e a t h e a sigh of relief: a label has been provided a n d now it can be discussed. I a m r e m i n d e d of K i e r k e g a a r d ' s satirical story in this connection. O n e day a m a n went to get his suit pressed. H e saw a shop with a sign in the window, 'Suits Pressed H e r e ' . H e went inside, b u t found t h a t only the sign was for sale. So H o l m e r ' s p a r a d i g m will become the topic of discussion instead of the p r i m a r y l a n g u a g e of religion a n d theology. I write this with some s y m p a t h y having suffered a similar fate. H a v i n g tried, in ways not dissimilar to H o l m e r ' s , to criticise perceived relations between philosophy a n d religious belief, my a t t e m p t s were met, at first, with some p u z z l e m e n t . Before m a n y of Wittgenstein's r e m a r k s relating to religion were available, my views were accounted for as a philosophical expression of W e l s h evangelical theology — a view which a m u s e d some a n d o u t r a g e d others a m o n g my Welsh evangelical a c q u a i n t a n c e s . T h e n , briefly, the analyses were said to be B a r t h i a n . Finally, the very thing: K a i Nielsen's ingenious label, Wittgensteinian fideism.2B I a m not in the original list of so-called fideists. T h o s e n a m e d m a k e a very odd collection, since they differ widely in their views. 2 7 Still, it worked, a n d instead ofdiscussing the p r i m a r y language of religion, discussions of Wittgensteinian fideism flourished. W h e n e v e r I read papers, someone was sure to ask a b o u t fideism. At one A m e r i c a n university, having been asked for the h u n d r e d t h time, ' W h e n did you decide to become a W i t t g e n s t e i n i a n fideist?' I gave my best reply, 'Shortly after the operation, as a m a t t e r of fact'. 2 8 H o l m e r was spared discussions of the WittgensteinianKierkegaardian paradigm because, fortunately for him, it lacks the c o n s u m e r a p p e a l of Wittgensteinian fideism. Nevertheless, in other respects, his fate is similar. W e have seen that H o l m e r e n d e a v o u r s to get theology back f r o m its metaphysical to its proper, o r d i n a r y use. But in W e s t ' s exposition, this very a t t e m p t

b e c o m e s a m e t a - p h y s i c a l thesis: ' H o l m e r ' s m e t a p h y s i c a l thesis is t h a t theology o u g h t to be a part of the l a n g u a g e of the f a i t h f u l , not about this l a n g u a g e . ' 2 9 T h u s t h e m e t a p h y s i c a l g a m e p e r p e t u a t e s itself.

Notes 1. Paul Holmer, The Grammar of Faith (Harper and Row, New York, 1978), p. 56. 2. I b i d , pp. 68-9. 3. I do not think it ought to be said that forms of life are foundational, since, as we have seen, the notion of a form of life is used, in part, precisely to combat philosophical foundationalism. 'To imagine a language is to imagine it in a form of life', but a form of life is not the foundation of the language. As well as the previous discussion in this book see D.Z. Phillips, Belief, Change and Forms of Life (Macmillan, London and Humanities Press, Atlantic Heights, New Jersey, 1986). 4. Holmer, The Grammar of Faith, p. 184. 5. I b i d , pp. 189-90. 6. I b i d , p. 68. 7. See Part Four, ch. 19. 8. Holmer, The Grammar of Faith, p. 162. 9. I b i d , p. 9. 10. Seren Kierkegaard, Concluding Unscientific Postscript, trans. David Swenson (Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey, 1944), p. 296. 11. Kierkegaard, Purity of Heart. 12. See O . K . Bouwsma, Without Proof or Evidence, ed. J . L. Craft and R. E. Hustwit (University of Nebraska Press, Lincoln, 1984). 13. Holmer, The Grammar of Faith, p. 142. 14. I b i d , pp. 145-6. 15. I b i d , p. 1. 20. Ibid. 16. I b i d , p. 3. 21. I b i d , pp. 198-9. 17. I b i d , p. 1. 22. I b i d , p. 198. 18. I b i d , p. 20. 23. I b i d , p. 192. 19. I b i d , p. 21. 24. I b i d , p. 212. 25. Cornel West, review of Paul Holmer, The Grammar of Faith, Union Seminary Quarterly Review, vol. 35, Nos 3 and 4 (Spring/Summer 1980), p. 284. 26. Kai Nielsen, 'Wittgensteinian Fideism', Philosophy vol. 42, 1967. 27. T h e original names of the so-called fideists are: Peter Winch, G.E. Hughes, Norman Malcolm, Peter Geach, Stanley Cavell, J . M . Cameron, Robert Coburn. 28. For a more philosophical response see Phillips, Belief, Change and Forms of Life. 29. West, review of Holmer's The Grammar of Faith, p. 281.

18 Grammarians and Guardians

T h e philosopher, it might be said, is the g u a r d i a n of g r a m m a r . T h e theologian is the g u a r d i a n of the Faith. Yet, as we have seen, Paul H o l m e r in his book The Grammar of Faith spends most of his time discussing the sense in which a theologian is the g u a r d i a n of the g r a m m a r of the Faith. N a t u r a l l y , therefore, there will be considerable overlaps between philosophical a n d theological concerns. Nevertheless, the two concerns are different a n d they occasion some questions a b o u t H o l m e r ' s analysis. T h e tensions to which I refer a p p e a r on the book's jacket. First, reference is m a d e to the m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s of theology's tasks which, as we saw in the last c h a p t e r , H o l m e r wants to rectify: O n e of the steady voices in today's c a c o p h o n o u s theological world here proposes that there is a logic a n d a g r a m m a r of faith, the rules of which theologians must a d h e r e to or risk being u n w o r t h y of the n a m e . The Grammar of Faith discloses that theology is not a succession of rival intellectual positions or new knowledge unavailable to the o r d i n a r y believer, but a way to organize a n d u n d e r s t a n d faith itself... W h a t then is theology's central task? According to Dr. H o l m e r , theology must stand in vigilance against f a d d i s m . It m u s t never allow the needs of the d a y to take p r i m a c y over the needs of the eternal ... in the N e w T e s t a m e n t , C h r i s t i a n liturgy, a n d the ways of obeying G o d a n d being faithful to him are the very m e a n s by which the language of faith regains its essence a n d vitality. T h i s is — or should be — theology's n a t u r a l h o m e . F a r f r o m dubiously e x a m i n i n g the central tenets which Christians through the centuries have held dear, theologians m u s t give dignity to the o r d i n a r y believer's

d o u b t s a n d beliefs. Theology has no privileged access to either d o u b t or faith.' Here, it is clear that H o l m e r is setting himself against, a n d g r a p p l i n g with, conceptual m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s of the n a t u r e of theology. Second, we are told, ' T o speculate on the " m e a n i n g " of faith is to vitiate its language.' H o l m e r is referring here to those w h o see it as their function to provide more refined ' m e a n i n g s ' to replace the p r i m a r y language of faith. H o l m e r is insisting that w h a t has to be understood is the ragged p r i m a r y l a n g u a g e o f f a i t h . But, third, we are told t h a t this p r i m a r y m e a n i n g 'has to be e a r n e d a n d achieved in its original forms'. W h o is being addressed in these words? W h a t kind of u n d e r s t a n d i n g is being referred to? T o earn the u n d e r s t a n d i n g he seeks, the philosopher m u s t p a y attention to the role of religious concepts in their n a t u r a l contexts. But if the philosopher earned a n d achieved these m e a n i n g s in their original form, the philosopher would be a hearer of the word in its primitive form too, namely, a believer. Is to u n d e r s t a n d the W o r d to hear the W o r d ? W e seem to be close to saying so in the following: ' T h e state of us all is to wrestle with the s a m e mighty matters; a n d the g r a m m a r that is theology is the g r a m m a r of our lives.' T h e r e is an oscillation in H o l m e r ' s work between theological a n d philosophical concerns. T h e r e is n o t h i n g amiss with this oscillation, if one is a w a r e of it, b u t it is not clear t h a t this is always the case. For example, we are told, 'The Grammar of Faith calls for a g r a s p that does not substitute for piety or belief, does not foreshorten u n d e r s t a n d i n g or grace, but gives one access to t h e m . ' But w h a t sort of access is being referred to here? Is it access to the n a t u r a l contexts of concepts which m a y prevent conceptual m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s , or access to a living faith w i t h o u t foreshortening the p a t h to it? Is it an access which leads to conceptual clarity or one which leads to spiritual growth? Is clarity enough for H o l m e r , or is he h o p i n g for something more? W h a t this something m o r e m i g h t be can be b r o u g h t out by considering two questions which arise f r o m the analysis we e x p o u n d e d in the last c h a p t e r . T h e first arises f r o m aspects of religion which get little attention in H o l m e r ' s essays, namely, the heterogeneity within Christianity itself a n d its relations to the other religious a n d secular m o v e m e n t s which s u r r o u n d it. As we have seen, H o l m e r takes as his m a i n task a constant recalling of w h a t he takes to be the p r i m a r y language of faith.

But is that language as h o m o g e n e o u s as he thinks? Does not H o l m e r ' s p h r a s e 'the s o m e w h a t loose consensus of the faithful' 2 cover a m u l t i t u d e of differences? In this respect, Cornel W e s t has a point w h e n he says t h a t H o l m e r ' s analysis reflects 'those situations in which there has been close personal contact, or w h e n a g r o u p is culturally h o m o g e n e o u s or held together by b o n d s of trust — in short ... those situations in which an organic, cohesive tradition exists'. 3 Even, then, in such contexts there are a variety of religious traditions a n d deep-going theological disputes: predestination, d o u b l e predestination, grace a n d works, the place of the s a c r a m e n t s , mediated or i m m e d i a t e authority, limited or universal salvation, etc., etc. T h e s e theological differences c a n n o t be treated as t h o u g h they were m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s of the one p r i m a r y l a n g u a g e of faith, m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s which would d i s a p p e a r if only theology could be recalled to its p r o p e r task. No, these theological differences reflect d e e p religious differences. W h a t is more, at the p r i m a r y language of faith, we have a l a n g u a g e in which these differences address one a n o t h e r . It is a l a n g u a g e in which there is talk of t r u t h a n d falsity, of d e p a r t i n g f r o m the t r u t h a n d e m b r a c i n g falsehood. T h e s e ways of speaking enter into accusation a n d counter-accusation. If H o l m e r w a n t s to give a faithful presentation of the p r i m a r y l a n g u a g e of faith, surely this is one p r o m i n e n t feature of it which should be taken into account. W e need to b e c o m e clear a b o u t w h a t using conceptions of t r u t h a n d falsehood come to in this context. For example, it is h a r d to see how these w a r r i n g conceptions can be j u d g e d by some c o m m o n m e a s u r e to d e t e r m i n e their rationality or their value. H e r e , as Wittgenstein says, w h e n people disagree, they a r e a p t to call each other fools a n d heretics. N o d o u b t confusions a n d superstitions will come to light, b u t there is no reason to think t h a t after such revelations a n d exposures we shall be left with c o m m o n a g r e e m e n t in religion a n d theology. All we can say in this realm is t h a t one conception is d e e p a n d a n o t h e r s h a b b y . But, of course, there is no g u a r a n t e e of a g r e e m e n t in such j u d g e m e n t s . 4 If there were such a g r e e m e n t within religion there would not be any need to m a k e them. H o l m e r is so interested in r e m i n d i n g theologians of w h a t they are t e m p t e d to forget t h a t he makes the ragged c h a r a c t e r of the p r i m a r y language of faith a secondary consideration. Yet, is not r e m e m b e r i n g this raggedness an essential part of the task he says he has set himself, namely, not to settle all theological issues or internecine controversies, b u t 'to give t h e m a better setting'. 5

W h e n we turn to consider the relation of religious faith to secular m o v e m e n t s in the s u r r o u n d i n g culture, the difficulties deepen. H e r e , too, there is talk of t r u t h a n d falsity, of the true way a n d of false ways. T h e ways which m a y be called false f r o m within the perspective of the faith c a n n o t be shown to be m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s . M i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s of the Faith? N o t even t h a t m u c h can always be said. For e x a m p l e H o l m e r a d m i t s , Nietzsche's aversion to Christianity was so p r o f o u n d a n d so detailed t h a t his pages outline a faith in J e s u s t h a t is w o r t h y of offence. For this reason, his work helps us to see how blessed someone is who is not offended by J e s u s . Nietzsche u n d e r s t o o d b u t was a n t i p a t h e t i c . Voltaire's conception that Pascal's account of Christianity is m i s a n t h r o p i c suggests t h a t both Voltaire a n d Pascal h a d seen the logic of faith correctly. In one sense, both h a d the g r a m m a r straight — one so that he could accept it, the other so t h a t he could at least reject the right thing. 6 H e r e is a genuine clash. E a c h side m a y call w h a t the other has to say false a n d w h a t he proclaims the t r u t h . W h a t is the logic of these u n d o u b t e d uses of t r u t h a n d falsity? I n an age in which theology c a n n o t take its a u d i e n c e for g r a n t e d , surely this is something to which we o u g h t to p a y more attention t h a n H o l m e r does. T h e r e are times, however, w h e n H o l m e r speaks as t h o u g h , underlying the different perspectives, there is a m e a s u r e in terms of which the perspectives t u r n out to be c o m m e n s u r a b l e after all. H o l m e r suggests that the way one's life develops as a believer will be different from the way it will develop if one is not a believer, a n d t h a t this difference in d e v e l o p m e n t can serve as an external check on the faithfulness of F a i t h ' s promises a n d their superiority over the alternatives. H o l m e r says t h a t theology 'is more like the teaching t h a t leads to a truly successful, deeply satisfactory, even blessed a n d h a p p y life ... W e get a notion of w h a t the world is, of w h a t we are, a n d w h o G o d is.' 7 Is this a case of ' T a s t e a n d see t h a t the Lord is good' b e c o m i n g 'Test a n d see t h a t the Lord is good'? A r e the notions of success, satisfaction, blessedness, happiness, the world, identity, which H o l m e r invokes, given independently of religious belief, in such a way t h a t the belief can be shown to be superior to the alternatives according to a common measure? A n y such suggestion would lead to difficulties c o m p a r a b l e

to those which have a c c o m p a n i e d a t t e m p t s to revive ethical n a t u r a l i s m . N o one h a s succeeded in showing t h a t it is in a rogue's interests to be moral, where those interests have to be understood in the rogue's terms. I n the question, ' W h a t profiteth it a m a n if he gain the whole world a n d lose his own soul?', the 'gain' a n d 'loss' c a n n o t be understood as referring to a c o m m o n coinage. 8 Similarly, where different moral viewpoints are concerned, one c a n n o t point to a conception of h u m a n flourishing to act as a j u d g e between t h e m . N o d o u b t there are overlaps between such viewpoints, b u t they will also differ in w h a t they take h u m a n flourishing to be. T h e s e differences are not different hypotheses a b o u t an agreed something or other, called h u m a n flourishing, b u t different conceptions of flourishing. Yet, in so far as H o l m e r is t e m p t e d , sometimes, to speak as if experience confirms the C h r i s t i a n w a y to be the right way, this way of talking conflicts with his m o r e general emphasis on the incommensurability of religious perspectives a n d other perspectives with which it can so easily be confused. H e insists on the d a n g e r s of thinking t h a t religious concepts can always be cashed, without loss, into w h a t e v e r h a p p e n s to be the conceptual coin of the realm. I t seems, t h e n , t h a t we have a tension between conceptual analysis in H o m e r ' s work a n d the theological desire to g u a r d a gospel; a desire which leads h i m sometimes to use l a n g u a g e which is at h o m e within the Faith as if it were a n external experiential confirmation of t h a t F a i t h . W h a t is at issue can be b r o u g h t out in the following comparison. W h e n Socrates says t h a t the j u s t m a n is h a p p i e r t h a n the u n j u s t m a n , it m a y seem that he is a d v o c a t i n g a n a t u r a l i s m by m e a n s of which the superiority of justice over injustice can be d e m o n s t r a t e d . T h e use of the c o m p a r a t i v e ' h a p p i e r ' m a y mislead us. Similarly, if Socrates says that the j u s t m a n is more h a p p y t h a n the u n j u s t m a n , we m a y be misled in the s a m e way. But Socrates is to be read as saying, 'Let justice be your conception of h a p p i n e s s ' , or ' H a p p y is the m a n w h o is j u s t . ' A n e u t r a l conception of h a p p i n e s s is not being used to j u d g e between justice a n d injustice. R a t h e r , m o r a l conceptions d e t e r m i n e w h a t is m e a n t by happiness. W h e n the F a i t h promises to the believer a satisfactory, blessed a n d h a p p y life, is it not the case that, despite overlaps, here, too, it is the Faith which d e t e r m i n e s w h a t these conceptions of satisfaction, blessedness a n d h a p p i n e s s a m o u n t to. H o l m e r the philosopher never forgets this, b u t H o l m e r the theologian is t e m p t e d to. Theological t e m p t a t i o n s to deviate f r o m conceptual analysis

are more in evidence in the second question which needs to be asked of the analysis e x p o u n d e d in the last chapter. T h i s has to do with w h a t I take to be an over-confidence in H o l m e r in the way he appeals to the abiding c h a r a c t e r of the p r i m a r y l a n g u a g e of faith. H o l m e r speaks of this l a n g u a g e as a n abiding t r u t h : T h e r e is a d e e p a n d a b i d i n g t r u t h t h a t theology proposes, which, like a 'de p r o f u n d i s ' is a criterion a n d s t a n d a r d for all h u m a n life. Amid the m a d whirl of our c o m m o n life, this theological stuff, this news a b o u t G o d a n d m a n , helps to redefine the h u m a n b o u n d a r i e s , to t a m e its v a g r a n t s , stimulate the indifferent, energize the slothful, a n d give scope a n d promise to all those w h o feel hedged in a n d even utterly defeated. Amid the highs a n d lows, where ethico-political aims engulf us, where empires organize a n d disorganize h u m a n passions so t h a t we s t u m b l e to confusion, there is still a great a n d level via, a n a r r o w way, across these frightening chasms. 9 In a n y given situation, it is the task of theology to express this t r u t h in the v e r n a c u l a r , b u t not by a p p r o p r i a t i n g the intellectual or political language of the day. It is mediated, r a t h e r , in ' t h a t residual language, t h a t c o m m o n diction, within which we all u n d e r s t a n d a n d describe the bitterness of grief, the anguish of hopelessness, the fate of the defeated, the cries of the weary, the h u r t feelings of the neglected, a n d the elation of the victor'. 1 0 Here, H o l m e r is describing the o r d i n a r y but i m p o r t a n t contexts in which he firmly believes that theology must do its work. Given this conviction, he is deeply a l a r m e d at those theologians a n d other thinkers w h o say that this traditional task c a n n o t be continued because it is o u t m o d e d . T h e diagnoses are r a t h e r v a g u e a n d several; a n d the prognoses are equally disquieting. T h e themes t h a t a r e struck are r a t h e r familiar in the long historical scene. P o p u l a r religion is vague, more chauvinistic t h a n C h r i s t i a n , not well-conceived, a n d not quite responsible socially a n d intellectually. T h e churches with their avid m e m b e r s are pictured as g r a n d but ill-founded. I n fact, there are cracks everywhere ... W h o are the specialists for G o d ' s creaking house? Are there any at all? Q u i t e a few h a n d s are u p . "

W e have already noted the various theological enterprises he goes on to criticise. T h e s e enterprises distort a n d thereby seek to displace the p r i m a r y language of faith. T h i s being so 'it only sustains a confusion to ask for a revision of language, as if this were the seat of the difficulties'. 1 2 I n resisting such revisions, West thinks t h a t H o l m e r is not being W i t t g e n s t e i n i a n enough. H e accuses him of m a k i n g religious concepts non-historical a n d , to t h a t extent, context-free. H o l m e r , as we have seen, is not denying t h a t theology h a s to be mediated in a concrete historical situation, but its ethico-religious values are b r o u g h t to b e a r on t h a t situation a n d c a n n o t be understood simply as a p r o d u c t of it. W e s t is right in suggesting that H o l m e r has not given the notion of religious d i s a g r e e m e n t as m u c h attention as he m i g h t have done, but w r o n g to d e n y that there are cores to the religious traditions which m a y disagree with each other in u n i m p o r t a n t respects. O n c e these core concepts are denied, it seems as if everything becomes a m a t t e r of interpretation, a n d t h a t Wittgenstein's insights allow us to say no more t h a n t h a t w h a t e v e r is called religion, at any time, is religion. West says t h a t it is precisely the ideal situations H o l m e r has in m i n d 'which are being called into question by the realities facing our churches, our seminaries, our communities, our society, our world'. 1 3 West does not say w h a t he takes these challenging realities to be, or how they are to be r e s p o n d e d to. B u t since he is questioning H o l m e r ' s notion of an a d e q u a t e response, let us a s s u m e t h a t his suggested responses would be ones which, for H o l m e r , distort the p r i m a r y language of the faith. W h a t b e a r i n g has Wittgenstein's e m p h a s i s on the n a t u r a l context of concepts on this disagreement? O n the one h a n d , it is true that if the responses to challenges West speaks of become pervasive, then, this is now w h a t religion has become. It does not follow at all, of course, t h a t H o l m e r has to accept this conception of religion. West has forgotten that Wittgenstein said that l a n g u a g e - g a m e s can pass a w a y a n d be forgotten. If the changes West envisages come to pass, H o l m e r , r e m e m b e r i n g how it used to be, could say that in so f a r as these new practices seek to travel in the n a m e of the old, they a r e confused, for they have eroded a n d distorted the old language-games. Yet, a l t h o u g h H o l m e r should h a v e no difficulty in answering W e s t ' s misplaced criticism, he m a y seem to have a difficulty in answering it, because there are times w h e n he seems to suggest t h a t the p r i m a r y language of faith c a n n o t be in j e o p a r d y , t h a t it c a n n o t lose its m e a n i n g . I a m not referring now to confused

suggestions that it has to lose its m e a n i n g once its pre-scientific c h a r a c t e r is realised a n d its demythologisation is realised. I a m talking of the p r i m a r y language of faith losing its m e a n i n g because it gradually ceases to be available to people: the well becomes poisoned at the source. It does not seem to m e that H o l m e r gives serious enough attention to t h a t possibility. H e asks, ' D o beliefs crack, sag a n d sink?' 1 4 Well, T . S . Eliot certainly t h o u g h t it m a d e sense to speak in this way of words. In Burnt Norton, he says: ... W o r d s strain, C r a c k a n d sometimes break, u n d e r the b u r d e n , U n d e r the tension, slip, slide, perish, Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place, Will not stay still ... Does H o l m e r allow these possibilities? H e is so preoccupied with the d e a d metaphysical l a n g u a g e that h a n g s a b o u t the neck of the l a n g u a g e of faith, that t h a t is the d e a d language he tends to c o n c e n t r a t e on. For it is a question of which p a r t of religious l a n g u a g e is really so dead today. Is it the discourse of the metaphysical theologians? Is it the l a n g u a g e of the h y m n writer? Is it the language of the psalmist a n d other Biblical authors? If we are talking a b o u t certain kinds of e l a b o r a t e metaphysical theology, I believe it is quite clear t h a t m u c h of this is very dead indeed. l D But w h a t of the p r i m a r y l a n g u a g e of faith? C a n it be placed in j e o p a r d y ? H o l m e r is quite a w a r e t h a t religious words, like any other words, have their m e a n i n g s in the life t h a t s u r r o u n d s them. For the way that concepts are finally achieved, even concepts like ' G o d ' , 'sin', 'grace', 'salvation' a n d m a n y more, is also by a kind of interaction between h u m a n responses a n d language. A n d this supposes a religious context of worship, faith, a n d concern. I n d e e d , there are concepts by which people refer to G o d a n d a host of other things in profoundly religious ways, b u t these concepts are achievements constituted in the long pull of e d u c a t i n g the h u m a n spirit as to w h a t religion is. If the concepts no longer h a v e a n y life in them, if they m e a n nothing, then it m u s t be t h a t all

the rest that goes into giving people confidence a n d faith that there is a God has also d i s a p p e a r e d . 1 6 But does H o l m e r believe this could h a p p e n or that it, at least, makes sense to hold that, on a large scale, it has already h a p p e n e d in m a n y contexts? It is difficult to give a n unequivocal answer. Sometimes, he seems to w a n t to s e p a r a t e the m e a n i n g of the words from the c o m m o n usage, a separation which would r u n counter to his m a i n e m p h a s i s on the internal relations between the meanings a n d the uses of words. For example, he says, It is not the words that are at fault, as m u c h as the persons speaking them. Therefore, the religious words are vain w h e n n o t h i n g follows their usage, when the individual does not seem to know a n y t h i n g a b o u t the m a t t e r s to which they refer a n d the way of life in which they were born. T h e n we can say sadly that people do not know w h a t they are saying. T o teach t h e m is one of the theologian's tasks. 1 7 But w h a t if the sad c o m m e n t a t o r s grow few a n d the s h a b b y speech becomes pervasive? It will then become not a m a t t e r of people not knowing w h a t they are saying, but of their coming to say different things. It will be impossible to say t h a t the trouble is not in their words, for given their usage, this is w h a t their words have become, despite the fact t h a t they m a y have the same form as the old words. I n such circumstances, it cannot be said t h a t the theologian will teach them anew, for he will be as m u c h a p a r t of the p r e d i c a m e n t as a n y o n e else. In such a situation there will be those who, r e m e m b e r i n g w h a t it was possible to say, find a t t e m p t s to speak like t h a t now, forced, strained. H o l m e r would a d m i t t h a t we would be h a r d pressed now to find a concern a n d discussion of religious questions such as those which s u r r o u n d e d the work of the sixteenth- a n d seventeenth-century Reformers. O n e m a y be s u r r o u n d e d by ways of talking a b o u t a n d discussing religion which one considers s h a b b y a n d vulgar, a n d which place serious limitations on w h a t it is possible for one to say. W h e n one tries to say w h a t one believes, in such a context, one finds it, almost of necessity, having a polemical c h a r a c t e r one might have not w a n t e d it to exhibit. But the choice of one's voice being heard in any other way may be taken from one. T h e prevailing circumstances have seen to that. T h e r e are others, who, perceiving the s h a b b i n e s s of w h a t prevails, find in it echoes of w h a t used to

be, b u t c a n n o t m a k e these echoes more explicit. 1 8 At this point, a possible m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g needs to be avoided. T h e a r g u m e n t m a y give the impression t h a t it is being said that, in order to flourish, Christianity needs the presence of a high culture. I n reply it might be said that Christianity was not p a r t of the high culture of its day, but, at best, a sub-culture which protested against it; a sub-culture which spoke directly to simple people. T h e point of this reply is well taken. But simple people may have their style too, as m a y their protest against the prevailing culture. M y question would include the possibility of that style declining too. Defences a n d attacks concerning religion b e c o m e s h a b b y . T h a t is p a r t of w h a t K a f k a shows us in The Castle, a n d which led him to say in the fourth of his P r o m e t h e u s legends: 'Everyone grew weary of the meaningless affair. T h e gods grew weary, the eagles grew weary, the w o u n d closed wearily.' 1 9 If it is said t h a t this cannot h a p p e n , I a m puzzled by the c h a r a c t e r of this ' c a n n o t ' . If reference were m a d e to the power of the Word, a power which sustains itself come w h a t m a y , a power which accompanies the words no m a t t e r w h a t the surroundings, these views seem to entail saying t h a t m e a n i n g is something which ' a c c o m p a n i e s ' the words. H o l m e r would be a m o n g the first to see w h a t is w r o n g with that suggestion, a n d to emphasise that words d e p e n d on w h a t we do with them. I n t h a t case, is there a n y t h i n g t h a t g u a r a n t e e s the impossibility of a decline in our religious concepts? If not, does not t h a t allow the possibility of religion losing its hold on a people? H o l m e r a n d I could have a discussion a b o u t the extent to which we think this has h a p p e n e d already. P e r h a p s I would cite I a n R o b i n s o n ' s essay 'Religious English' in which he shows w h a t c a n n o t be said in the language of the N e w English Bible. 2 0 But, again, t h a t would not be the philosophical point at issue. But H o l m e r seems reluctant to raise the specifically philosophical question. His reluctance m a y well have a theological source. T h e r e are times w h e n teachers feel t h a t they p u t d o u b t s into the m i n d s of their students; d o u b t s which would never have existed if the philosopher h a d not spoken. P e r h a p s H o l m e r reacts in the s a m e way to my question a b o u t the possibility of religious decline. H e m a y think t h a t the question is of a ' W h a t if...?' character. Posing such questions in vacuo may create unnecessary obstacles for the faithful. A b s t r a c t speculation a b o u t such matters, he m a y think, is a b a d thing. Instead of speculating in asking, ' W h a t if ..?' difficulties should be met piecemeal, as they occur.

T h i s theological reaction is not without its point, b u t it does not address the philosophical issue at h a n d . T h a t issue is not a b o u t possible eventualities, but a b o u t w h a t is involved in believing now. I n asking ' W h a t i f . . . ? ' light is thrown on the logic of religious belief. T h e citing of possibilities, as in Wittgenstein's On Certainty, is not m e a n t to pose threats to the faithful, but to get us away f r o m thinking t h a t religious l a n g u a g e d e p e n d s on some kind of necessity provided by a metaphysical u n d e r p i n n i n g . In seeming, at times, to deny the possibility of a loss of religious m e a n i n g , H o l m e r seems to h a n k e r after a notion of necessity he spends most of his time attacking. If the l a n g u a g e Robinson decries becomes the s t a n d a r d language children inherit, will not their inheritance be one in which certain things can no longer be said? As we have seen, it c a n n o t be said t h a t H o l m e r denies this of the p r i m a r y l a n g u a g e of faith, b u t it is not clear either how m u c h room he leaves for it. H e says ' A n d if we are weary of it, it m u s t be that our u n d e r s t a n d i n g has w a n e d . W h e n that waxes, the words take wing again a n d theology becomes once more the Gospel according to God.' 2 1 But must the u n d e r s t a n d i n g wax; must the words take wing again? T h e ideal c o m m e r c e of discourse is characterised by Eliot in Little Gidding as follows: A n d every p h r a s e A n d sentence that is right (where every word is at home, T a k i n g its place to s u p p o r t the others, T h e word neither diffident nor ostentatious, An easy c o m m e r c e of the old a n d the new, T h e c o m m o n word exact without vulgarity, T h e formal word precise but not pedantic, T h e complete consort d a n c i n g together) Every p h r a s e a n d every sentence is an end a n d a beginning, Every p o e m an epitaph ... Eliot, looking at our prospects, goes on to say: A n d all shall be well a n d All m a n n e r of thing shall be well This is not an optimistic prediction, as some have thought. R a t h e r , it is a kind of p r a y e r for us which the poet has e a r n e d the right to make. 2 2 W h a t I w a n t to insist on is that w h e t h e r that p r a y e r has been or will be answered is an open question: it can go either

way. As we have seen, H o l m e r has been concerned to disentangle conceptual confusions a b o u t theology a n d religion which m a y lead philosophers a n d others astray. If a philosopher e n d e a v o u r s to free himself from these confusions, he will achieve a certain conceptual a n d g r a m m a t i c a l clarity a b o u t the p r i m a r y texts of faith a n d theology. But, for theology, clarity is not enough, nor should it be. W h e n theology plays its p a r t in clearing a w a y confusions a b o u t the p r i m a r y l a n g u a g e of faith, its task is 'to get persons familiar a n d i n t i m a t e with w h a t these texts require'. 2 3 Is clarity enough for H o l m e r ? Certainly, he does not d i s p a r a g e the analytic philosopher's search for it. O n the contrary, it can be asserted t h a t the most detailed a n d seemingly disinterested analysis is very frequently also the most useful. G r e a t detail a n d great skill a r e essential to becoming clear. Furthermore, religions, not least Christianity, do live in p a r t by concepts, a n d these, in t u r n become m u d d i e d by d u b i o u s associations a n d are frequently misconstrued by virtue of their resemblances to concepts found in the sciences, in aesthetics, a n d surely in morals. 2 4 T h i s struggle for conceptual clarity is itself obscured if we think t h a t the philosophical analysis is a provider of meanings. T h e analysis is simply trying to clarify meanings already given, a b o u t which, for some reason or a n o t h e r , we have become confused or puzzled. Therefore, for those w h o w a n t the meanings of religion to be provided from without, the recent shift in philosophical emphasis is not the better way, analytic instead of speculative, to do the s a m e thing. In fact, Wittgenstein's reflections on these m a t t e r s are more in the direction of liquidating philosophy as the science of meanings t h a n of inventing one more p e r m u t a t i o n of m e t h o d s to provide them. 2 3 Philosophy leaves everything w h e r e it is a n d simply e n d e a v o u r s for clarity concerning it; the p r i m a r y l a n g u a g e of faith a n d theology included. It seems to m e t h a t H o l m e r ' s The Grammar of Faith does not settle for such clarity. For such clarity is still knowledge about religion, a clarity the philosopher seeks with respect to a host of

other subjects too. T h e search for such clarity m u s t be exercised with a cherished freedom f r o m w h a t , H o l m e r rightly says, 'are considered alien a n d extraneous d e m a n d s , be they political, religious, ethical, or even institutional'. But, then, H o l m e r goes on to say this: All of these things r e m e m b e r e d , is there not still a n o t h e r way of speaking t h a t is theology proper? Is there not a way of speaking that is a more i n t i m a t e expression of the religious life, a greater clue to its province, a greater help to learning to be religious, t h a n all the learning about religion? 26 T h e philosopher leaves the theologian of the proper kind w h e r e he is. It is right t h a t he should d o so. But the theologian of the kind H o l m e r w a n t s to show us does not leave the philosopher where he is, because it is not right t h a t he should do so. T h i s is because, H o l m e r tells us, 'the true j u d g e m e n t s t h a t theology proffers, like the j u d g e m e n t s of the morally enflamed m a n , a r e m a d e to incite, not merely to inform'. 2 7 O f course, the philosopher can, in t u r n , inform himself of this f e a t u r e of theology's task; he can become clear a b o u t t h a t w i t h o u t being incited or without inciting a n y o n e else. But w h e n we read The Grammar of Faith, it is clear that H o l m e r is doing far more t h a n informing himself a n d his audience of theology's p r o p e r task. H e is also engaged in the task himself. H o l m e r not only informs; he also incites. As we have seen, H o l m e r says that w h e n he does his work properly, the C h r i s t i a n teacher, the theologian, dares to become the g u a r d i a n of the l a n g u a g e of the Faith. So does Paul H o l m e r .

Notes 1. Holmer, The Grammar of Faith, bookjacket. 2. I b i d , p. 198. 3. West, review of Holmer's The Grammar of Faith, p. 284. 4. For a striking example of disagreement involving myself see the symposium I participated in with Richard Swinburne on 'The Problem of Evil' in Brown (ed.), Reason and Religion. Swinburne gives a portrayal of a good God to which he thinks morally sensitive people will respond, whereas I see the same portrayal as the product of moral insensitivity. I have expanded my comments to take account of Swinburne's response, J o h n Hick's comments as chairman, and the general discussion on that occasion, in Belief Change and Forms of Life. 5. Holmer, The Grammar of Faith, p. xi. 6. I b i d , p. 194. 7. I b i d , p. 22. 8. For further discussion see D.Z. Phillips, 'Does it pay to be good?', Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, vol. 65 (1964/5) and D.Z. Phillips and H . O . Mounce, 'On morality's having a point', Philosophy (1965). Both papers are developed further in D.Z. Phillips and H.O. Mounce, Moral Practices (Routledge and Kegan Paul, London, 1970). 9. Holmer, The Grammar of Faith, p. 12. 10. I b i d , pp. 15-16. 11. I b i d , p. 85. 12. I b i d , p. 117. 13. West, review of Holmer's The Grammar of Faith, p. 284. 14. Holmer, The Grammar of Faith, p. 83. 15. I b i d , p. 128. 16. I b i d , p. 131. 17. I b i d , pp. 134-5. 18. I explore these issues at greater length in 'Meaning, Memory and Longing' in my Through a Darkening Glass (University of Notre Dame Press and Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1982). See too 'Only Words' in my book No Main Road: Religion in Twentieth Century Literature, forthcoming (Routledge). 19. See 'A Place without Qualities' in Phillips, No Main Road. 20. Ian Robinson, 'Religious English' in The Survival of English, Cambridge University Press, 1973. 21. Holmer, The Grammar of Faith, p. 36. 22. I owe this observation to my former colleague, David Sims. 23. Holmer, The Grammar of Faith, p. 49. 24. I b i d , p. 167. 25. I b i d , p. 132. 26. I b i d , p. 62. 27. I b i d , p. 67.

Part Four Religion and Concept-Formation Christianity is not a doctrine, not, I m e a n , a theory a b o u t w h a t has h a p p e n e d a n d will h a p p e n to the h u m a n soul, b u t a description of something t h a t actually takes place in h u m a n life. For 'consciousness of sin' is a real event a n d so are despair a n d salvation t h r o u g h faith. T h o s e w h o speak of such things ( B u n y a n for instance) are simply describing w h a t has h a p p e n e d to t h e m , w h a t e v e r gloss a n y o n e m a y w a n t to p u t on it. Wittgenstein, Culture and Value

19 Epistemological Mysteries

Looking back at the epistemological difficulties which we have discussed in the first three p a r t s of the book, we can s u m t h e m u p in the form of a sceptical epistemological question: by w h a t right can we speak of God? T h e question is one concerning w h a t can be known. It is as if we find ourselves talking a b o u t s o m e t h i n g which we do not have any obvious right to talk a b o u t , a n d so our talk stands in need of rational f o u n d a t i o n s , justifications. But when we have looked at the form these f o u n d a t i o n s a n d justifications have taken, they have not proved to be satisfactory. T h e situation has been well described by O . K . B o u w s m a : I t ' s as t h o u g h m a n lived in an enclosure with thick walls a n d d u m m y doors. M e n pull a n d p u s h against the d u m m y doors ... trying to p u s h open or pull open, but a p a r t f r o m their illusions t h a t the d u m m y door has given way j u s t a chink, the d u m m y door does not open. M e n c a n n o t find their way to look out. All the s a m e they c a n n o t get rid of the idea that there is something outside the wall. So they talk a b o u t it a n d talk a b o u t it — some say t h a t there is n o t h i n g b u t darkness there, n o t h i n g at all. It frightens them. O t h e r s say that there is indeed something there, t h a t the door opened j u s t a chink. 'I h a d a glimpse of it. I saw it a n d it vanished. T h e door closed.' But w h e n they talk a b o u t this they discover no a g r e e m e n t . 'I saw a d r a g o n . ' ' H e saw a beautiful w o m a n with a veil.' 'I saw a high m o u n t a i n ; a n d splendid giants lived on that m o u n t a i n . ' W h e n they asked other questions, such as ' A n d w h a t has that to d o with life in the city, with us, a n d with our prospects, a n d w h a t a b o u t death?' again there is no a g r e e m e n t . People

begin to mistrust the chinks a n d to say, ' T h e y are all d u m m y doors.' T h e y m a y even have some account of how the d u m m y doors got there. A n d they say, 'If you keep on p u s h i n g a n d pulling on a d u m m y door, the exhaustion and the desperation — as t h o u g h your p u s h a n d y o u r pull were your only hope — m a y soon p r o d u c e the illusion of chinks a n d of light coming t h r o u g h . ' A n d the people pity one a n o t h e r . But they do not respect one another. T o every m a n his chink, his illusion. 1 T h a t seems to me to be an a c c u r a t e description of the state of c o n t e m p o r a r y philosophy of religion. W e have encountered m a n y d u m m y doors in o u r discussions, doors which claim to give, b u t c a n n o t provide, the required knowledge of G o d . For all p u s h e r s a n d pullers at these doors, G o d is indeed a mystery, a reality beyond the reach of our epistemic practices. Religious mysteries are t u r n e d into epistemological mysteries. O n c e this transition has taken place the p r o b l e m is characterised as one of showing how we in the world, inside the enclosure, can talk of G o d , w h o is outside the enclosure. At its starkest, the epistemological p r o b l e m seems to be one which t h r e a t e n s the very possibility of talking a b o u t G o d . W h e n religious mysteries are turned into epistemological mysteries, religious l a n g u a g e itself can be used to fuel scepticism. After all, it will be said, does not religion itself proclaim t h a t G o d is beyond h u m a n u n d e r s t a n d i n g ? T h a t being so, h o w can we, situated as we are, be expected to speak meaningfully a b o u t God? J o h n W h i t t a k e r has expressed the difficulty as follows: O n e of the most peculiar features of the belief in G o d is the a c c o m p a n y i n g claim that G o d is an indescribable mystery, an object of faith but never an object of knowledge. In certain contexts — in worship, for e x a m p l e — this claim u n d o u b t e d l y serves a useful purpose; a n d so I do not w a n t to dismiss the idea altogether. But w h e n pious r e m a r k s a b o u t the ineffable n a t u r e of G o d are taken out of context a n d turned into philosophy, the result is usually an epistemological m u d d l e . T h e trouble, of course, is that those w h o insist on G o d ' s mysteriousness still m a n a g e to say all sorts of things a b o u t him; he is an incorporeal spirit, he created the world, he loves his creatures, a n d so on. T o assert these things is to p r e s u m e some u n d e r s t a n d i n g of G o d , but no

u n d e r s t a n d i n g is possible if G o d is completely incomprehensible. So if that is how it is, if the object of religious belief is utterly incomprehensible, then it makes no sense to say — or believe — a n y t h i n g a b o u t God. 2 Notice the slide in W h i t t a k e r ' s r e m a r k s f r o m talk of the mystery of G o d to talk of God as incomprehensible, as though being b i d d e n to feed on mysteries was like being asked to swallow the incomprehensible. T h a t is an instance of sliding f r o m the religious to the epistemological. O n c e we start on the slide, problems a b o u n d . H o w can we ever say a n y t h i n g a b o u t G o d so conceived? O n this view, ' G o d ' is an a b s t r a c t postulate needed to explain the world as we know it. But how do we move f r o m the alleged necessity of such a postulate to the n a t u r e of God? As W h i t t a k e r says, although, on this view, 'we m u s t postulate something to satisfy a bill of explanation ... that something, as long as it does that, could be anything,'3 As H u m e showed, we could believe that the world is the work of an infant deity, a world which, since his act of creation, has been allowed to r u n on uncontrolled. O n the other h a n d , the world m a y have been created by a s u p e r a n n u a t e d senile deity, the p r o d u c t of his dotage. W e could devise all sorts of fancies. T h e y are not genuine hypotheses, since we have no idea w h a t would count for or against them; no idea how to assess them. As H u m e might say, with his c u s t o m a r y irony, the n a t u r e of the creator is indeed a mystery! W e p u s h at the d u m m y door of constructing belief in G o d as a hypothesis a n d n o t h i n g comes of it. It neither fails nor succeeds — the whole enterprise c a n n o t even get off the g r o u n d . But w h a t if it did? W e saw at the outset that, at best, all it could deliver is a belief in a G o d whose existence is highly p r o b a b l e — certainly not the G o d in whose inescapable reality our exemplars of faith believed. Again, if we try to speak of a G o d , t h o u g h t of as a mysterious being in the metaphysical sense we are now considering, ascribing to him any definite attributes, dire consequences follow for the notion of his mysteriousness. O n c e we postulate these attributes, how d o we know t h a t they are not his only attributes? If this were t h o u g h t to be the case, ' t h e mysteriousness of his n a t u r e would d i s a p p e a r as soon as the properties were d e d u c e d . ' 4 O n the o t h e r h a n d , w h a t if we say t h a t these properties do not exhaust G o d ' s properties? H o w can we know t h a t if we say t h a t G o d is utterly mysterious? T o m a k e the j u d g e m e n t seems to p r e s u p p o s e know-

ledge of the very G o d we say c a n n o t be known. O n either view, G o d ' s mysteriousness seems to be destroyed. Similar difficulties arise if we say, on this view, that we h a v e encountered the mystery of G o d in religious experience. O u r language is supposed to be i n a d e q u a t e to describe the experience. T h i s i n a d e q u a c y is not conceived of as a t e m p o r a r y or initial difficulty. O t h e r w i s e , as W h i t t a k e r says, 'As long as the experience of G o d — or a n y o t h e r experience — occurs often e n o u g h a n d widely e n o u g h to permit a c o m m o n usage to develop, words can be instituted to refer to it.' 5 O n the o t h e r h a n d , if the experience is said to be of a G o d it c a n n o t c a p t u r e , a n u n b r i d g e a b l e logical g a p opens u p between the experience a n d its object. H o w is the experience to serve as a reason for saying t h a t its alleged object has any reality? W h i t t a k e r points out t h a t the very insistence t h a t all our experiences must refer to objects m a y be d u e to no m o r e than ' a n u n e x a m i n e d mental h a b i t ' . After all, S o m e n o n - p e r c e p t u a l experiences h a v e n o objects. Feelings, moods, premonitions, forebodings, a n d other emotional experiences often arise w i t h o u t a n y identifiable objects serving as their source. T h e s e states of m i n d m a y have causes, of course; b u t they need not be tied to objects which one can experience in various o t h e r ways, as one can experience objects of perception. Religious experience m a y be no different, despite the fact t h a t we speak of such experience as if did have an object, namely, G o d . A n d therefore the a p p e a l to experience as an explanation of the limitations of religious u n d e r s t a n d i n g ultimately begs the question. For we d o n ' t know t h a t experience partially reveals an u n e x h a u s t e d mystery unless we already know t h a t the experience in question comes f r o m an objective g r o u n d in a h i d d e n reality. T h e experiential view of religious u n d e r s t a n d i n g trades on this a s s u m p t i o n , b u t it does not justify it. A p p a r e n t l y faith supplies the knowledge that there is more to G o d t h a n we know by experience. But how? T h a t is the original p r o b l e m . 6 As we saw, R e f o r m e d epistemology rejects the original p r o b l e m by refusing to accept it on its own terms. T h o s e terms would c o m m i t us to epistemological f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m ; to search for reasons which justify us in saying t h a t we believe in G o d . R e f o r m e d epistemology s p u r n s any appeal to such evidentialist reasons. It

insists t h a t religious epistemic practices are justified by faith, not by reason. T h i s is not a n y t h i n g peculiar to religion. O t h e r epistemic practices are based on faith, too, since their a d h e r e n t s commit themselves to their epistemic e n d o w m e n t s without reason. Yet, as we saw, Reformed epistemology turned out to be a d u m m y door too, despite its exposure of the pretensions of foundationalism. For a l t h o u g h Reformed epistemologists denied t h a t belief in God is based on foundations, they insisted that it was not g r o u n d less. T h e belief is g r o u n d e d in experiences such as hearing G o d ' s voice, fearing his w r a t h , w a n t i n g to praise him, a n d so on. T h e s e experiences, however, are said to be the prima-facie g r o u n d s or the prima-facie justifications of the belief, always open to possible defeaters. As we saw, this left belief in G o d in a strangely isolated position as a f o u n d a t i o n a l belief in the believer's noetic s t r u c t u r e . T h e belief did not seem to be m e d i a t e d in the detail of the believer's life. T h e restriction of apologetics to negative apologetics, m e a n t t h a t the elucidation of religious concepts, giving a perspicuous representation of them in their n a t u r a l contexts, is neglected in favour of the stark assertion of a believer's right to place belief in God among-his f o u n d a t i o n a l beliefs. But, as we t u r n from these d u m m y doors, others confront us. It m a y be said t h a t we should not be a l a r m e d at B o u w s m a ' s depiction of us as confined within an enclosure, necessarily limited in our situation as we try to talk a b o u t G o d . O n the contrary, it is an a c c u r a t e description of the state of philosophy of religion, simply because it is an a c c u r a t e description of how things are with us religiously. T h e epistemological difficulties we have encountered, it might be said, are simply d u e to our w a n t i n g to say we have knowledge or experience of an essentially mysterious God. W h y not say that we have no knowledge or experience of such a God? If the reality we are referring to is a 'higher' one, it is not surprising t h a t it c a n n o t be c a p t u r e d in a finite language. W h y not recognise t h a t h u m a n language is inherently i n a d e q u a t e to express the n a t u r e of a mysterious God? Some philosophers have argued that failure to recognise this involves the denial of most, if not all, of philosophical theology. Such a startling conclusion can be e m b r a c e d if we u n d e r s t a n d philosophical theology as David C o n w a y does w h e n he says: A large p a r t of the history of t h a t discipline can be constructed as reactions to, a t t e m p t s to cope with, the nearly universally accepted premiss t h a t we, as finite, limited

beings, c a n n o t fully u n d e r s t a n d the n a t u r e of an infinite, unlimited being, as a result of which our language, as such, is inherently i n a d e q u a t e for expressing a n d so for u n d e r s t a n d i n g the n a t u r e of the deity. 7 C o n w a y ' s c o m m e n t s were occasioned by a claim I h a d m a d e in passing in Death and Immortality to the effect t h a t I found the notion of the inherent i n a d e q u a c y of h u m a n language a problematic one. I said: O u r l a n g u a g e is not a poor alternative to other m e a n s of c o m m u n i c a t i o n . T o say ' W e only have our l a n g u a g e ' in this context, is not like saying, 'I only have English'. In the latter case one might say, 'If you could speak Welsh you'd see why hwyl is u n t r a n s l a t a b l e . ' But one c a n n o t say, 'Because we only have language we c a n n o t say w h a t the world beyond the grave is like.' T h e r e can be an i n a d e q u a t e use of language, b u t it makes no sense to say t h a t language itself is i n a d e q u a t e . 8 For C o n w a y , the possibility of philosophical theology d e p e n d s on the admission of the inherent i n a d e q u a c y of h u m a n language. His reaction to my c o m m e n t s is, therefore, to be expected: ' T h u s Phillips would dispose of m u c h of philosophical theology.' 9 For C o n w a y , the two notions, the mysteriousness of G o d a n d the inherent i n a d e q u a c y of h u m a n language, stand or fall together. A n y o n e d e n y i n g this, according to him, disposes, not only of philosophical theology, b u t of any form of theistic religion. According to C o n w a y , if we say t h a t h u m a n language is inherently a d e q u a t e , the only G o d such a view can a c c o m m o d a t e is a finite God w h o is fully within our c o m p r e h e n s i o n . It follows, for C o n w a y , t h a t J u d a i s m a n d Christianity necessarily involve acceptance of the inherent i n a d e q u a c y of h u m a n language. O n l y in this way, C o n w a y thinks, can the notion of G o d ' s mysteriousness be a c c o m m o d a t e d . A n y o n e c o n t e m p l a t i n g strategies to be a d o p t e d by C o n w a y faces the initial task of showing t h a t it makes sense to speak of the i n h e r e n t i n a d e q u a c y of h u m a n language. C o n w a y ' s first a t t e m p t to fulfil this task d e p e n d s on the possibility of m a k i n g retrospective j u d g e m e n t s on the state of a language prior to the occurrence of certain developments in the language. A p p a r e n t l y , all we have to do is to imagine t h a t a n actual feature of the

language, hwyl, for example, h a d never existed. Since we n o w know w h a t hwyl is, we can say t h a t language, prior to its existence, was i n a d e q u a t e to express it. Since the existence of any p h e n o m e n o n such as hwyl is contingent, the possibility of such p h e n o m e n a occurring always counts against a claim, at a n y time, t h a t language is necessarily a d e q u a t e . H o w are we to respond to these a r g u m e n t s ? W h e r e the example of hwyl is concerned, we could simply say that the p h e n o m e n o n did not exist prior to the existence of the Welsh language. Hwyl has no m e a n i n g , in a religious context, a p a r t f r o m certain traditions of preaching a n d worship. So w h e n C o n w a y says t h a t languages other t h a n Welsh could not have expressed hwyl h a d the Welsh language never existed, the fact is t h a t there would be no hwyl which these languages were failing to express. C o n w a y ' s case would have been stronger h a d he chosen different examples. C o n s i d e r situations in science where p a r t i c u l a r problems r e m a i n unsolved for a considerable time. It m a y be said that until the b r e a k t h r o u g h occurs, the science in question is conceptually i n a d e q u a t e to deal with the p r o b l e m . H e r e , however, the difficulty is located in the p r o b l e m a n d not in the alleged i n h e r e n t i n a d e q u a c y of language. C o n w a y ' s own way of talking testifies to this fact, since he refers to later stages w h e r e the successful conceptual development has taken place. O n e can think of m a n y different examples where attention is d r a w n to inadequacies of a t e m p o r a r y or contingent kind. For example, it m a y be said, rightly or wrongly, that the N e w English Bible c a n n o t express divine a u t h o r i t y as we find it in the K i n g J a m e s version. H e r e , the a r g u m e n t d e p e n d s on a n a p p e a l to how in fact things have gone. W h a t would it m e a n to say t h a t things h a d to go this way? W h e r e such necessity is at h o m e , as in the assertion that there cannot be a n o t h e r E l i z a b e t h a n age, it has little to do with i n a d e q u a c y of any kind. T h e necessity is u n d e r s t o o d by a n y o n e w h o u n d e r s t a n d s the notion of historical development. In all cases where it makes sense to speak of t e m p o r a r y inadequacies, all we can say is, ' W e a r e stuck at the m o m e n t . W e c a n n o t see our way a h e a d . ' But this is h a r d l y enough for those w h o w a n t to a r g u e for the necessary mysteriousness of G o d . I n their case, the i n a d e q u a c y of l a n g u a g e to express the n a t u r e of God, c a n n o t be t h o u g h t of as a t e m p o r a r y i n a d e q u a c y . O t h e r w i s e , as W h i t t a k e r has already said, in time a language will develop in which the experience m a y be a d e q u a t e l y expressed. T h o s e w h o w a n t to say t h a t l a n g u a g e is inherently i n a d e q u a t e

to express the n a t u r e of the metaphysical object of faith, or w h o w a n t to speak of religious experience as the manifestation of an inexpressible higher reality, need a stronger thesis t h a n the one we have been considering. For them, the inability of l a n g u a g e to express the divine is no t e m p o r a r y setback. According to the stronger thesis, we a r e not stuck for the m o m e n t , b u t necessarily stuck. At times, C o n w a y slides f r o m the weaker thesis to the stronger thesis w i t h o u t realising t h a t he is doing so. H e is anxious to w a r n against the d a n g e r of actually saying t h a t which, it is said, language c a n n o t express. Someone m a y w a n t to say, ' P e r h a p s the English l a n g u a g e is not yet e q u i p p e d to indicate the morethan-drizzling but less-than-sprinkling condition of the a t m o s p h e r e . ' C o n w a y says that this difficulty could be avoided by saying, ' P e r h a p s the English l a n g u a g e is not yet e q u i p p e d to describe some conditions of the a t m o s p h e r e . ' W h e r e religion is concerned, similar difficulties could be avoided, C o n w a y suggests, by saying, ' H u m a n language is not able to describe the n a t u r e of a being t h a t is worthy of a worshipful attitude.' 1 0 Note the difference between the two statements: ' P e r h a p s the English language is not yet equipped ...' a n d ' H u m a n l a n g u a g e is not able ...' Clearly, the spirit of the second s t a t e m e n t is not c a p t u r e d if we substitute, ' P e r h a p s h u m a n l a n g u a g e is not yet able ...' T h e spirit is not c a p t u r e d because the claim being m a d e is t h a t h u m a n language, by its very own n a t u r e , can give no a d e q u a t e expression of the reality of G o d . C o n w a y a d m i t s , later in his article, t h a t all his a r g u m e n t s hitherto d e p e n d on interpreting me as saying ' t h a t at any time the l a n g u a g e t h a t we have c a n n o t be i n a d e q u a t e ' . O n the o t h e r h a n d , he recognises t h a t I m a y have been a r g u i n g against a r a t h e r different claim, namely, t h a t there can be things which c a n n o t be expressed in any possible language. T h i s is why C o n w a y t u r n s to his second a t t e m p t to show t h a t the notion of the inherent i n a d e q u a c y of h u m a n language is a coherent one. C o n w a y says t h a t the denial that G o d ' s n a t u r e could be a d e q u a t e l y expressed in a n y possible language, would be c o m p a t i b l e with saying t h a t higher realities will be revealed to us only beyond the grave a n d ' t h a t our language, i.e. the language of mere earthly beings, will always be too limited to allow us to u n d e r s t a n d the f u t u r e condition, that the condition is expressible in a language which we can learn a n d u n d e r s t a n d only w h e n we are in t h a t condition.' 1 1 T h e s e remarks, of course, occasion other difficulties a b o u t the g r a m m a r of the notion of a higher reality a n d the notion of a

world beyond. T h e s e difficulties, as we shall see, have a vital bearing on the intelligibility of C o n w a y ' s idea of a 'higher reality'. 1 2 Yet, irrespective of these issues, it is now clear, on his own admission, that the possibility C o n w a y envisages in no way d e p e n d s on his thesis concerning the i n h e r e n t i n a d e q u a c y of language. All t h a t is being said is t h a t a b r e a k t h r o u g h of the kind described is needed before we can come to u n d e r s t a n d certain things. T h i s places the a r g u m e n t in the contexts we have already discussed. T h e m a i n objection to C o n w a y ' s thesis, however, does not d e p e n d on answering his two a t t e m p t s to give sense to the notion of the inherent i n a d e q u a c y of h u m a n language. Such an a s s u m p tion would give the impression t h a t the question as to w h e t h e r h u m a n l a n g u a g e is or is not inherently i n a d e q u a t e is a genuine question. I n fact, this is not the case. By this I do not m e a n t h a t the question has been resolved. O n the contrary, it is unclear w h a t sense the question has. C o n w a y has a s s u m e d , t h r o u g h o u t , t h a t I w a n t to counter the thesis that h u m a n language is inherently i n a d e q u a t e , with the thesis t h a t h u m a n l a n g u a g e is inherently adeq u a t e . But the claim that h u m a n l a n g u a g e is inherently a d e q u a t e is as senseless as the claim that h u m a n language is inherently ina d e q u a t e . T o say that h u m a n l a n g u a g e as such is either inherently a d e q u a t e or i n a d e q u a t e requires finding sense in the notion of a complete language, such that looking at its completeness (all t h a t can ever be said), we can say t h a t it, this complete language, is either a d e q u a t e or i n a d e q u a t e . Since this notion of completeness is unintelligible, talk of the a d e q u a c y or i n a d e q u a c y of a complete l a n g u a g e is also unintelligible. An a t t e m p t has been m a d e to say something which c a n n o t be said. As far as C o n w a y is concerned, G o d ' s mysteriousness refers either to something which our l a n g u a g e c a n n o t express now or to something which will be expressed in an a d e q u a t e l a n g u a g e after d e a t h . But the language in which we talk of G o d ' s mysteriousness is language we do have. It is not a report on l a n g u a g e we d o not have. Similarly, it is not language which we m a y speak some day, but a language which the believer speaks every day. After all, it m u s t be r e m e m b e r e d that religious mysteries are supposed to constitute food for the faithful in their daily lives. R u n n i n g t h r o u g h our discussions has been a critique of the basic a s s u m p t i o n s involved in f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m a n d R e f o r m e d epistemology, a critique d e p e n d e n t on insights derived f r o m

Wittgenstein. In terms of this critique, we rejected the starting point of epistemological scepticism. I n s t e a d of asking how we can speak of God, we m u s t begin by noting t h a t we do speak of G o d . Surely, w h a t we need to do is to e n q u i r e into the g r a m m a r of that talk. B o u w s m a says, In such an enclosure as I have described ... there are not only d u m m y doors which t e m p t people, b u t there are also doors, or at least one door, which opens only f r o m the outside of t h a t enclosure. A n d w h e n that door is opened — it is obviously opened by w h a t is outside the wall a n d does not even show f r o m inside the enclosure — a n d one sees w h a t is to be seen, naturally he has no interest in those other doors others try so h a r d to o p e n ... ' T h e door was o p e n e d . ' A n d he might have said, ' T h e door walked a m o n g us.' 'Verily, Verily, I say u n t o you. I a m the door of the sheep.' 1 3 So although we w a n t to say that the door is opened by something outside the wall, it is how t h a t notion walks a m o n g us, how it illuminates h u m a n lives, which d e t e r m i n e s the sense which saying that has. W e are not faced with the epistemological p r o b l e m of inferring, or justifying by faith, from within the enclosure, that there is something outside the wall. T h e sense in which something is said to be outside the enclosure is given in how we speak within the enclosure. K i e r k e g a a r d makes the same point as follows: '... let us u n d e r s t a n d one another; the j o u r n e y of which we speak is not long ... it is only a single step, a decisive step, a n d you, too, have emigrated, for the Eternal lies m u c h n e a r e r to you than any foreign country to the emigrant, a n d yet w h e n you are there the c h a n g e is infinitely greater.' 1 4 T h e s a m e emphasis is found in Wittgenstein's insistence t h a t w h a t we need to deal with our philosophical problems is already given to us, already lies before us, if only we can give it a right a r r a n g e m e n t . W h e n we can arrive at a perspicuous representation our puzzlement is eased. So if we can a r r a n g e m a t t e r s properly within the enclosure, we will see the sense of saying t h a t a door has opened f r o m outside the wall. Yet, as we have seen, c o n c e n t r a t i n g on w h a t is within the enclosure m a y simply lead to a f u r t h e r confrontation with d u m m y doors. As B o u w s m a says, the possibility of an open door, f r o m outside the wall, m a y not even be seen f r o m within the enclosure. As a result of the h e r m e n e u t i c a l conversation, for example, it became impossible to retain a p r o p e r context for religious belief.

In fact, hermeneutics seemed to h a r b o u r ambitions to replace religion in its promise to m a k e 'new beings' of p a r t i c i p a n t s in its conversation. B u t even w h e n we t u r n e d to efforts to convey the sense of religious beliefs we found ourselves r u n n i n g into d u m m y doors. Religious concepts were seen to be vulgarised in certain analyses p r o p o u n d e d in the sociology of knowledge, while in the t r e a t m e n t of the imago Dei, said to be in all men, Reformed epistemologists were seen to force a n d falsify too m u c h of our familiar a c q u a i n t a n c e with unbelief a m o n g our neighbours. J o h n W h i t t a k e r is free of these confusions, but w h e n he a t t e m p t s to show w h a t talk of G o d ' s mysteriousness a m o u n t s to by t u r n i n g to the practical contexts of a living faith, we find the notion of divine mystery eluding him too. In seeing how this comes a b o u t , we will see at the s a m e time w h y religious mysteries are not epistemological mysteries. T h e practical context W h i t t a k e r speaks of is the working relationship a believer has with G o d ' s teachings; a relationship which in no way d e p e n d s on metaphysical knowledge. W e a r e able, however, from the s t a n d p o i n t of this 'working knowledge of t r u t h s to live by', 1 5 to m u s t e r criticisms of various m i s u n d e r standings of these truths, m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s which W h i t t a k e r accuses of 'literalness'. Such m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s ignore the n o r m a t i v e a n d regulative c h a r a c t e r of religious beliefs. W h a t needs to be recognised, W h i t t a k e r argues, is that ' T h e claim that G o d watches over us, that he hears our prayers, that he knows o u r hearts, t h a t he forgives our sins — even the claim that he created the world — all these teachings serve as t r u t h s to live by, a n d all promise a kind of practical proverbial wisdom.' 1 6 T h e knowledge which one possesses in knowing these t r u t h s is a capacity, the capacity to live according to G o d ' s will. W h i t t a k e r is quite a w a r e that this so-called practical account will seem reductive to m a n y philosophers because it ignores w h a t they would call the ontological f o u n d a t i o n s o f f a i t h . But, W h i t t a k e r asks, w h a t if this appeal to ontology is itself the p r o d u c t of confusion? U n d e r l y i n g the a p p e a l is the a s s u m p t i o n t h a t ' G o d ' is a n a m e which refers to some kind of object. But this a s s u m p t i o n is itself philosophically dubious. T h e ontological f o u n d a t i o n is t h o u g h t to be necessary in order 'to assure the possible truth of religious assertions by giving t h e m something to be true about' W h i t t a k e r says that there is a tendency to think t h a t 'the practical t r u t h s of religious belief m u s t rest on prior t r u t h s a b o u t w h a t there is in the universe'. 1 8 In criticising this tendency, a tendency

which goes d e e p in the philosophy of religion, W h i t t a k e r shares insights which have been shown by others influenced by Wittgenstein in this context a n d w h o h a v e voiced similar criticisms. For example, Peter W i n c h has argued: It is true that there would be something w r o n g with a m a n w h o claimed to be praying to God while saying he did not believe in G o d ' s existence. But would the same kind of thing be amiss as with a m a n who claimed to be writing to the Yugoslav a m b a s s a d o r while saying that he did not believe in the existence of such a person? I feel inclined to say that, in the latter case, ceasing to see any point in writing is a consequence of ceasing to believe in the a m b a s s a d o r ' s existence, whereas ceasing to see any point in p r a y i n g is an aspect of ceasing to believe in God. In other words there are internal connections between ceasing to believe in G o d ' s existence a n d ceasing to see any point in p r a y e r of a sort which do not hold between ceasing to believe in the a m b a s s a d o r ' s existence a n d ceasing to see a n y point in addressing letters to him.' 1 9 In The Concept of Prayer, I a r g u e d against the a s s u m p t i o n t h a t there could be an investigation of w h e t h e r there is a God which is quite i n d e p e n d e n t of the context of prayer and worship. 2 0 R u s h Rhees has argued: All t h a t theology can do is to indicate, p e r h a p s even with some sort of formal proof, w h a t it is correct to say, w h a t is the correct way of speaking a b o u t G o d . T h e question of ' w h a t G o d is' could only be answered t h r o u g h 'coming to know G o d is' in worship a n d religious life. ' T o know G o d is to worship him'. 2 1 T h e s e observations are the opposite of the view expressed by Roger Trigg: ' T h e belief is distinct f r o m the c o m m i t m e n t which may follow it a n d is the justification for it.' 2 2 T o this N o r m a n M a l c o l m has replied, According to T r i g g ... a m a n w h o was entirely devoid of any inclination to religious action or consequence might believe in the existence of God. W h a t would be the m a r k s of this? W o u l d it be that the m a n knows some theology, can

recite the Creeds, is well-read in Scripture? O r is his belief in t h e existence of G o d something different f r o m this? If so, w h a t ? W h a t would be the difference between a m a n w h o knows some articles of faith, heresies, Scriptural writings, a n d in addition believes in the existence of G o d , a n d one w h o knows these things b u t does not believe in the existence of G o d ? I a s s u m e both of t h e m are indifferent to the acts a n d c o m m i t m e n t s of religious life. I do not c o m p r e h e n d this notion of belief in the existence of G o d which is t h o u g h t to be distinct f r o m belief in G o d . I t seems to be an artificial construction of philosophy. 2 3 M a l c o l m calls this craving for justification, the desire to g r o u n d religious belief in some kind of ontology, 'one of the p r i m a r y pathologies of philosophy'. 2 4 W h i t t a k e r ' s own contribution is to insist t h a t if metaphysical speculation has a role to play, it is one of reflection on prior religious u n d e r s t a n d i n g . So far f r o m religious beliefs being f o u n d e d on prior t r u t h s a b o u t the world, in religion, W h i t t a k e r argues, 'we postulate certain items of the world's f u r n i t u r e because we already feel certain of some practical truths'. 2 5 W h i t t a k e r finds a parallel in Socrates' discussion of the immortality of the soul. Socrates would w a r n us against literalism, t h a t is, the t e m p t a t i o n to t u r n w h a t he shows us into a b s t r a c t , theoretical t r u t h s , r a t h e r t h a n see t h e m as t r u t h s to live by. H e r e , the metaphysical a r g u m e n t s actually p r o m o t e m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g . T h e y take us a w a y f r o m the contexts in which the Socratic t r u t h s have their sense. If we appreciate this sense, 'we need not a n d should not expect to know any t r u t h s more p r o f o u n d t h a n the t r u t h by which Socrates lived a n d died — t h a t a good m a n c a n n o t be h a r m e d ' . 2 6 W h i t t a k e r intends similar points to be m a d e of religious beliefs, since, although 'they m a y not have quite the same p o i n t . . . if they have a n y t r u t h in t h e m at all, their t r u t h need not belong to a n y other d o m a i n of u n d e r s t a n d i n g ' . 2 7 I t is i m p o r t a n t to recognise the g r a m m a t i c a l character of W h i t taker's remarks. H e is not referring to contingent facts. I n the Socratic context, the point is not t h a t the t r u t h s found there happen to be found there, but could be found elsewhere. T h e very possibility of such t r u t h s is internally related to such contexts. So w h e n W h i t t a k e r says that we need not a n d should not seek elsewhere for such truths, he is not m a k i n g a m o r a l or religious r e c o m m e n d a tion. R a t h e r , it is a recognition of the a p p r o p r i a t e g r a m m a t i c a l

p a r a m e t e r s of the m o d e of discourse he is discussing. Similarly, w h e n W h i t t a k e r says that t r u t h s found in religious beliefs 'need not belong to any other d o m a i n of u n d e r s t a n d i n g ' , he is locating the a p p r o p r i a t e g r a m m a t i c a l context for such t r u t h s a n d not referring to a contingent fact. I have no d o u b t t h a t the above conclusions are those which W h i t t a k e r w a n t s to emphasise in the m a i n . His presentation of them, however, sometimes suffers f r o m ambiguity. For example, he ends his p a p e r with the following c o m m e n t : ' W i t h wisdom of that kind faith can afford to be m o d e s t a b o u t its ontological claims.' 2 8 Unless we read the reference to modesty ironically, the c o m m e n t is far too weak given w h a t has preceded it. O n W h i t t a k e r ' s analysis, ontological claims are not claims which call for modesty; they should be a b a n d o n e d as p a r t of a misleading philosophical picture. Yet, the ambiguity in W h i t t a k e r ' s presentation is no mere slip. 29 It is connected with the analysis he wishes to give of religious mystery. It is this analysis which m a r k s my d i s a g r e e m e n t with W h i t t a k e r , despite my a g r e e m e n t with m u c h of w h a t he has said hitherto. H o w is the practical context of a living religious faith to give an a d e q u a t e account of religious mystery? A t t e m p t s to arrive at such an account via metaphysics or the experiential content of religious belief simply revealed that the mystery they g r a p p l e d with was n o t h i n g more t h a n a pseudo-concept. If the u n d e r s t a n d i n g of religious mystery claims by a living faith is not to meet a similar fate, certain conditions m u s t be met: 'Unless the possibility of this u n d e r s t a n d i n g can be explained, a n d unless it can be reconciled with traditional claims a b o u t the u n k n o w a b l e n a t u r e of God, the philosophical suspicions which s u r r o u n d theology a r e likely to increase.' 3 0 W h i t t a k e r thinks that the reconciliation between a living faith a n d traditional claims regarding G o d ' s mysteriousness can be secured if we r e m e m b e r one thing: ' T h e language of faith never directly c a p t u r e s its object, so to speak; a n d so the mystery remains.' 3 1 As we shall see, the r e m i n d e r W h i t t a k e r thinks we need is, in fact, a far-reaching confusion. As a result of it, the s a m e u n b r i d g e a b l e g a p will open u p between faith a n d its object as we saw open u p between metaphysics a n d its object and between religious experience a n d its object. Let us see how this comes a b o u t . T h e place of mystery is m a d e secure by a living faith, according to W h i t t a k e r , if we p a y attention to the knowledge which faith presumes a n d to the knowledge which faith disclaims. W h a t kind of

u n d e r s t a n d i n g does faith p r e s u m e to possess? W h i t t a k e r replies, Such u n d e r s t a n d i n g is largely a practical m a t t e r . I n s t e a d of a theoretical knowledge of a metaphysical being, gained t h r o u g h an intellectual inquiry, it represents a working knowledge of t r u t h s to live by. A n d instead of a n extrao r d i n a r y experience of a t r a n s c e n d e n t reality, it reflects an ability to deal meaningfully with the g a r d e n varieties of h u m a n experience. 3 2 Given an u n d e r s t a n d i n g of w h a t such a working faith involves, one will be in a position to point out m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s of it. H a v i n g seen w h a t u n d e r s t a n d i n g faith p r e s u m e s to possess, w h a t knowledge does it disclaim? W h i t t a k e r replies, ' T h e w i s d o m gained f r o m language of G o d does not a d v a n c e the frontiers of a n y science, empirical or philosophical. I t does not reveal a n y new objects in the universe a n d does not provide any i n d e p e n d e n t information a b o u t a metaphysical postulate.' 3 3 So faith disclaims possession of metaphysical knowledge or experiences of a transcend e n t object. So far, so good. But then we hear W h i t t a k e r saying of t h a t which faith possesses, ' T h i s lower form of u n d e r s t a n d i n g needs no apology, though. A working u n d e r s t a n d i n g of G o d — i.e., of teachings a b o u t G o d — is j u s t w h a t faith requires to retain its epistemological modesty.' 3 4 But why should faith be called a lower form of u n d e r s t a n d i n g , especially w h e n the higher form with which it is to be contrasted is a form of metaphysical speculation which, earlier, W h i t t a k e r has characterised as a p r o d u c t of confusion? O n this analysis, the place preserved for mystery is m a r k e d by w h a t is said to be beyond faith. W h i t t a k e r calls religious u n d e r s t a n d i n g modest 'because there is no direct way to convert it into theoretical knowledge of metaphysical realities. In that sense G o d r e m a i n s a mystery for religious believers, despite their practical u n d e r s t a n d i n g . ' 3 5 But is this to be the analysis of w h a t faith m e a n s by G o d ' s mysteriousness; this 'kind of extra knowledge which faith in its modesty need not p r e t e n d to possess'? 3 6 Surely not. O n such a view, religious mysteries would refer to an alleged knowledge which is a b s e n t f r o m faith; a 'knowledge' which, elsewhere, W h i t t a k e r characterises as the pitfalls of confusion we should e n d e a v o u r to avoid. W e recall his earlier r e m a r k : ' w h e n pious r e m a r k s a b o u t the ineffable n a t u r e of God are taken out of context a n d turned into philosophy, the result is usually an

epistemological m u d d l e ' . 3 7 Is there a n y w a y out of this inconsistency? O n e way f o r w a r d would be to suggest t h a t faith's ignorance of metaphysical t r u t h s a b o u t religion is akin to a n ironic conception of Socrates' ignorance of essences. A great deal d e p e n d s , however, on w h a t we take Socratic ignorance to be. O n one reading, w h e n Socrates asks, ' W h a t is justice?' he is searching for essences. H e rejects any definition offered by p r o d u c i n g a counter-example. N o t realising t h a t justice does not have an essence, Socrates says it is a mystery to h i m . O n this view, a view devoid of irony, w h e n Socrates says t h a t the only difference between himself a n d others is that he knows t h a t he does not know, Socrates, along with the others, is searching for the essence of justice. T h e y think they have found the essence, whereas he knows t h a t they a n d he have not — t h a t is the only difference. If, on the other h a n d , we do see irony in Socratic ignorance, as K i e r k e g a a r d did, the picture is very different. O n this view, Socrates asks, ' W h a t is justice?' not because he seeks an answer to the question, but because the others do. H e r e m i n d s t h e m of a question t h a t h a u n t s t h e m . H e offers his counter-example, not in order to help answer their question, b u t in an effort to get t h e m to stop asking it. W h e n Socrates says t h a t he does not know w h a t they say they know, he is referring to the knowledge of essences which they think they possess. Such 'knowledge' is indeed a mystery to Socrates, b u t 'mystery' is being used here in a pejorative sense; the sense in which H u m e was to affirm t h a t theism is indeed a miracle. Socratic ignorance, on this view, is an ironic expression of f r e e d o m f r o m metaphysical confusion. Similar choices face us in r e a d i n g W h i t t a k e r . O n one reading, faith finds metaphysical knowledge of G o d a mystery because it c a n n o t a t t a i n it. F a i t h is a lesser form of knowledge. O n the alternative reading, faith finds this metaphysical knowledge a mystery in a pejorative sense o f ' m y s t e r y ' . U n d e r s t a n d i n g faith enables us to see t h a t the so-called metaphysical knowledge of God is a confusion. Yet, no m a t t e r how we read W h i t t a k e r , a m a j o r p r o b l e m concerning the notion of religious mystery still confronts us. O n either reading, mystery simply refers to w h a t faith excludes. M y a r g u m e n t is t h a t mystery is essentially w h a t faith includes. At no time does W h i t t a k e r consider w h e t h e r mystery is internally related to religious belief. H e is w e d d e d disastrously to the claim t h a t ' T h e language of faith never directly c a p t u r e s its objects, so to speak;

a n d so the m y s t e r y r e m a i n s . ' 3 8 It is n o t s u r p r i s i n g , t h e r e f o r e , to find W h i t t a k e r , as w e h a v e seen, c l a i m i n g t h a t t h e r e a r e tensions b e t w e e n m a k i n g positive religious claims a n d believing in the m y s t e r i o u s n e s s of G o d : ' T h e t r o u b l e , of course, is t h a t t h o s e w h o insist on G o d ' s m y s t e r i o u s n e s s still m a n a g e to say all sorts of things a b o u t h i m ; he is a n i n c o r p o r e a l spirit, he c r e a t e d t h e w o r l d , he loves his c r e a t u r e s , a n d so o n . ' 3 9 B u t w h a t if the n o t i o n of m y s t e r y , so far f r o m c r e a t i n g a difficulty for these religious beliefs, is i n t e r n a l l y related to t h e m ? I n d e e d , w h a t if s u c h i n t e r n a l r e l a t i o n s a r e c e n t r a l to a n u n d e r s t a n d i n g of c o n c e p t f o r m a t i o n w h e r e the n o t i o n of G o d is c o n c e r n e d ? If t h a t is the case, w e c a n see, o n c e a g a i n , t h a t religious m y s t e r i e s will only be p r e v e n t e d f r o m b e c o m i n g epistemological m y s t e r i e s if w e take full c o g n i s a n c e of c o n c e p t - f o r m a t i o n in religious belief.

Notes 1. O . K . Bouwsma, 'Faith, Evidence and Proof in Without Proof or Evidence, p. 2. 2. J o h n H. Whittaker, 'Literal and Figurative Language of God', Religious Studies, vol. 17, no. 1 (March 1981), p. 39. 3. I b i d , p. 43. 4. I b i d , p. 44. 5. I b i d , p. 47. 6. I b i d , p. 48. 7. David A. Conway, 'D.Z. Phillips and "The inadequacy of language" ', Analysis, vol. 35 (1974/75), p. 93. 8. Phillips, Death and Immortality, p. 14. 9. Conway, 'Phillips and "The inadequacy of language" '. 10. I b i d , p. 94, fn. 11. I b i d , pp. 95-6. 12. Such difficulties were my main concern in Death and Immortality. See also Religion Without Explanation, ch. 8: 'Perspectives on the Dead'. 13. Bouwsma, Without Proof or Evidence, pp. 4—5. 14. Kierkegaard, Purity of Heart, p. 154. 15. Whittaker, 'Literal and Figurative Language', p. 49. 16. I b i d , p. 51. 17. I b i d , p. 52. 18. Ibid. 19. Winch, 'Meaning and Religious Language', pp. 207-8. 20. Phillips, Concept of Prayer. 21. Rhees, 'Religion and Language', p. 127. 22. Roger Trigg, Reason and Commitment (Cambridge University Press, 1973), p. 75.

23. Malcolm, 'The Groundlessness of Belief, pp. 211-12. T h e articles by Winch, Rhees and Malcolm I cite are central to any discussion of reference in religious belief. 24. Ibid., p. 208. 25. Whittaker, 'Literal and Figurative Language', p. 52. 26. Ibid., p. 54. 27. Ibid. 28. Ibid. 29. As we shall see, however, the rejection of a philosophical ontology is not, as Whittaker seems to think, the rejection of the literal. 30. Whittaker, 'Literal and Figurative Language', p. 49. 31. Ibid., p. 39. 32. Ibid., p. 49. 33. Ibid., p. 52. 34. Ibid., p. 49. 35. Ibid., p. 52. 36. Ibid. 37. Ibid., p. 39. 38. Ibid. 39. Ibid.

20 A Place for Mystery

If religious mysteries are not epistemological mysteries, w h a t kind of mysteries are they? W h a t place do they have in our discourse? W h e n we listen to K i e r k e g a a r d ' s description of this place it m a y strike one as singularly u n p r o m i s i n g : S u p p o s e Christianity to be a mystery ... S u p p o s e a revelation m u s t be a mystery ... S u p p o s e t h a t it were after all a blessed thing, critically situated in the extreme press of existence, to sustain a relation to this mystery w i t h o u t u n d e r s t a n d i n g it, merely as a believer. S u p p o s e Christianity never i n t e n d e d to be understood ... Suppose it refuses to be understood a n d t h a t the m a x i m u m of u n d e r s t a n d i n g which could come in question is to u n d e r s t a n d t h a t it c a n n o t be understood. 1 W h y does this sound so u n p r o m i s i n g to us? Is it not because, if asked, we would p a r a p h r a s e K i e r k e g a a r d as follows? — ' S u p p o s e Christianity to be a mystery ... S u p p o s e a revelation must be incomprehensible ... S u p p o s e it were a blessing, in the press of existence, to a d m i t that there is something to be u n d e r stood which you c a n n o t u n d e r s t a n d a n d t h a t the most you can achieve on earth is to a d m i t this.' A n d why should we p a r a p h r a s e it in this way? Largely because, as O . K . B o u w s m a h a s pointed out, we a r e so accustomed to being m a s t e r s in our own house: T h e r e is our language, the l a n g u a g e we d o u n d e r s t a n d . W e use it. W e write the books. W e coin the words as we need them. W e are almost virtuosos in this language. W e p u n . W e play on words. W e m a k e jokes. I t is ours. A n d w h a t do we do with it? W e tell stories. W e write novels. W e write

biographies. W e write history. W e publish books on w h a t we found in Mexico a n d South America. W e tell the world w h a t we found out a b o u t the stars. You a n d I know the n a m e s of m a n y a u t h o r s . T h e y are people like us. If we read books or read a m a g a z i n e or a n e w s p a p e r a n d d o not u n d e r s t a n d it, ordinarily we a r e a w a r e of this a n d can find out w h a t we need to find out; if we do not u n d e r s t a n d a n d think we do, it is not a m a t t e r of i m p o r t a n c e . I t m a y be t h a t o u r m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g will be discovered a n d we will come to u n d e r s t a n d . A n d w h a t now does this d e p e n d on? T h e r e is the one c o m m u n i t y of a g r e e m e n t within which we u n d e r stand a n d m i s u n d e r s t a n d one a n o t h e r . It is our language. W i t h i n it we move a n d speak a n d write a n d u n d e r s t a n d a n d have o u r being. I do not m e a n by this only t h a t we agree in our vocabulary. T h e r e is something more subtle. W e u n d o w h a t it is we d o speaking a n d writing. W h e n you tell a j o k e I get the point. W h e n you explain it I get the explanation, t h o u g h I m a y lose the point, not of the explanation b u t of the joke. W h e n you give a d e m o n s t r a t i o n , I see. A n d so on. W e have a c o m m o n b a c k g r o u n d a n d c o m m o n interests of which our l a n g u a g e is the m e d i u m in which we get on together. I m u s t e m p h a s i z e t h a t it is we whose l a n g u a g e this is. W e are at h o m e in it. It is our native land, our city, our u l t i m a t e s u r r o u n d i n g s . W e live here. W e are the masters. 2 T h e s e r e m a r k s certainly need a corrective. T h e y give too great an emphasis to c o m m o n b a c k g r o u n d s a n d c o m m o n interests, almost as if speaking a l a n g u a g e entailed this commonality. It isn't only jokes a n d magazines we m a y fail to get the point of. W e find each other puzzling too. O f t e n , we can m a k e little of each other. W e a r e far f r o m being m a s t e r s in our own houses, let alone m a s t e r s of our language in some unqualified sense. T h i s is not the place to explore these qualifications, b u t , even if we m a k e t h e m , kinds of u n d e r s t a n d i n g prevail. Even if others are often enigmas to us, we do not say t h a t there is n o t h i n g there to u n d e r s t a n d . Sometimes, with a little effort, or a greater effort, we could come to u n d e r s t a n d . At other times, we would have to change as persons to u n d e r s t a n d a n d , if we did, we might then say t h a t we c a n n o t u n d e r s t a n d w h a t we saw in our previous point of view. Even then, w h a t we have is one kind of u n d e r s t a n d i n g succeeding a n d even eroding a n o t h e r .

But K i e r k e g a a r d ' s r e m a r k s seem far more radical. H e seems to be saying that we have been given a language of revelation, which, naturally, we take to be a history or a report of transcendental things, a n d told simply to accept it even though we do not u n d e r s t a n d it. W e are told to swallow the incomprehensible because so-and-so says it is true. N o w o n d e r m a n y balk at giving the l a n g u a g e of religion any serious attention. As B o u w s m a says, the reaction of m a n y is predictable: ' W h a t shall we do with it? W e can ignore it. T h a t is no d o u b t w h a t most people do ... O f course, one might still w a n t to read a little now a n d then to r e m i n d ourselves of how m e n w h o could read spent their time before civilization a n d the higher mind came along.' 3 B u t these reactions miss the point of K i e r k e g a a r d ' s r e m a r k s . H e does not talk of a blind a c c e p t a n c e of w h a t we can see is incomprehensible. H e speaks r a t h e r of coming to an u n d e r s t a n d i n g , even t h o u g h it is a n u n d e r s t a n d i n g t h a t s o m e t h i n g c a n n o t be understood. K i e r k e g a a r d does not say we come to see t h a t something which could be u n d e r s t o o d c a n n o t be u n d e r s t o o d by us. H e says t h a t we come to something, something in relation to which ' u n d e r s t a n d i n g ' is not the a p p r o p r i a t e response. A n d that is something we can come to u n d e r s t a n d . W e are told t h a t Moses forsook Egypt, not fearing the w r a t h of the king, for he e n d u r e d as seeing him who is invisible. Now, how is this to be understood? Did Moses see the one w h o is invisible because, for a while, he b e c a m e invisible? T h e r e is a series of films a b o u t the invisible m a n . Now a n d again, however, the invisible m a n becomes visible to his friends. O f course, he's there all the time, you u n d e r s t a n d — only invisible. Is t h a t how it was with Moses? W a s he one of the favoured few to w h o m the invisible one b e c a m e visible? No, t h a t ' s not how it was. H e is said to have seen the unseen. W h e n you see the invisible m a n he ceases to be invisible. You c a n ' t see h i m unless he's visible. But w h e n the invisible one of w h o m K i e r k e g a a r d speaks is seen — he is seen as invisible. So the question now becomes this: w h a t is it like a m o n g the m a n y things we see to see the invisible one? In other words, w h a t is it like a m o n g the m a n y things we see, to see God? Simone Weil answers this question in a way which startles us with its boldness: T h e r e is a reality outside the world, that is to say, outside space a n d time, outside m a n ' s mental universe, outside a n y sphere whatsoever t h a t is accessible to h u m a n faculties.

C o r r e s p o n d i n g to this reality at the centre of the h u m a n heart, is the longing for an absolute good, a longing which is always there a n d is never a p p e a s e d by any object in this world. 4 Reflecting the difficulties such words have c o m e to have for us, M . O ' C . D r u r y says: ' b u t suppose someone was to say to me, " w h a t in the world do you m e a n , outside of space a n d time? T h e word 'outside' only has a m e a n i n g within the categories of space a n d t i m e ' . " D r u r y concedes, T h i s is a perfectly logical objection, the words 'outside space a n d time' have no more m e a n i n g t h a n Plato's beautiful expression 'the other side of the sky'. Again if someone were to object, 'I d o n ' t feel a n y longing for an absolute good which is never a p p e a s e d by any object in this world', h o w could you arouse such a desire? W h a t right have you to m a k e the psychological assertion t h a t such a desire lies at the centre of the h u m a n heart? Despite these difficulties, some of which we have already, D r u r y says,

discussed

Yet I believe Simone Weil is right w h e n she goes on to say t h a t we m u s t never assume t h a t any m a n , whatsoever he m a y be, has been deprived of the power of having the longing come to birth. B u t how can this desire for the absolute good be aroused? O n l y , I believe, by m e a n s of an indirect c o m m u n i c a t i o n . By so limiting the sphere 'of w h a t can be said' t h a t we create a feeling of spiritual claustrophobia. T h e dialectic must work f r o m the inside as it were. 3 T h e r e are difficulties a b o u t these r e m a r k s which need not d e t a i n us at this stage of our a r g u m e n t . W e m a y w o n d e r how a beautiful expression can lack m e a n i n g or how the notion of an absolute good, if it is something we long for, can be outside ' w h a t can be said'. W h a t is i m p o r t a n t in D r u r y ' s r e m a r k s is the insistence that talk of a G o d w h o is beyond us m u s t be c o m m u n i c a t e d by m e a n s of indirect c o m m u n i c a t i o n ; that is, the sense of such talk is found in the way it is mediated in the context of h u m a n life. Again, we find in Simone Weil a striking expression of w h a t is at stake here: ' E a r t h l y things are the criterion of spiritual things ... O n l y spiritual

things are of value, b u t only physical things have a verifiable existence. Therefore the value of the f o r m e r can only be verified as an illumination projected on to the latter.' 6 C o m m e n t i n g on these r e m a r k s , Peter W i n c h says, ' T h i s is not to say t h a t the expression " G o d " really refers to such facts; it is to say t h a t the reality which it expresses is to be found in the conditions of its application.' 7 T h e s e conceptual r e q u i r e m e n t s are, of course, essential if we are to have any g r a s p of the notion of religious mystery. Here, too, there are constant t e m p t a t i o n s to sever the notion from the contexts in which it h a s its sense. Speaking of writers w h o w a n t to show this sense in their stories, F l a n n e r y O ' C o n n e r y said, 'if the writer believes t h a t our life is a n d will r e m a i n essentially mysterious, if he looks u p o n us as h u m a n beings existing in a created o r d e r to whose laws we freely respond, then w h a t he sees on the surface will be of interest to h i m only as he can go t h r o u g h it into a n experience of mystery itself.' 8 But this working t h r o u g h the surface p h e n o m e n a to the experience of mystery, w h a t D r u r y called indirect c o m m u n i c a t i o n , is no optional strategy for the writer or for the philosopher. T h e m e d i a t i o n of mystery in the detail of people's lives is a precondition of seeing the sense it has; a precondition of mystery being able to c o m e in at the right place. If we think of passages in the O l d a n d N e w T e s t a m e n t s w h e r e G o d is said to be beyond h u m a n u n d e r s t a n d i n g , it is likely t h a t some of the following would come to m i n d . J o b seeks a G o d w h o 'doeth great things a n d u n s e a r c h a b l e ' (5:9); the Psalmist testifies, ' G r e a t is the Lord; a n d greatly to be praised: a n d his greatness is u n s e a r c h a b l e ' (145:3); St Paul exclaims as he w o n d e r s at the knowledge a n d wisdom of G o d , 'how u n s e a r c h a b l e are his j u d g e ments, a n d his ways past finding o u t ' (Rom. 11:33). All a r e agreed on the Psalmist's view of G o d ' s knowledge: 'Such knowledge is too w o n d e r f u l for me; it is high, I c a n n o t a t t a i n u n t o it.' (139:6). H e r e we have expressions of G o d ' s mysteriousness in their n a t u r a l settings. T h e reference to mystery in these contexts is certainly not pejorative. Looking back at W h i t t a k e r ' s suggestion that mystery refers to metaphysical knowledge of G o d , which is a mystery to faith, since faith in fact c a n n o t a t t a i n it, it does not even begin to be plausible in this context. It is equally implausible to say t h a t the mystery refers to metaphysical knowledge which it makes no sense to say we can attain. T h e reference is not to metaphysics, but to the ways of G o d , his greatness, knowledge a n d wisdom. T h e s e considerations rule out the two readings of

mystery offered in W h i t t a k e r ' s analysis. At the outset of his p a p e r , he said of the notion of G o d as an indescribable mystery: ' I n certain contexts — in worship, for example — this claim u n d o u b t e d l y serves a useful p u r p o s e , a n d so I do not w a n t to dismiss the idea altogether.' 9 As we have also seen, W h i t t a k e r is right in saying t h a t the n a t u r a l context of worship is often distorted by philosophy. O n the other h a n d , as we have seen, his own analysis makes mystery no more t h a n a m e a n s of indicating w h a t is excluded from the context of faith a n d worship. But, as we shall see, the notion of mystery does far more t h a n play a 'useful p u r p o s e ' in the context o f f a i t h a n d worship. Mystery is an integral p a r t of concept-formation in faith a n d worship. In so far as W h i t t a k e r emphasises mystery as that which faith excludes, as that which lies beyond it, his reading of the n a t u r a l religious setting would come close to t h a t of C o n w a y . C o n w a y , no d o u b t , sees the religious expressions of mystery as examples of the 'nearly universally accepted premiss that we, as finite limited beings, c a n n o t fully u n d e r s t a n d the n a t u r e of an infinite, unlimited being, as a result of which our language, as such, is inherently i n a d e q u a t e for expressing, a n d so for u n d e r s t a n d i n g the n a t u r e of the deity.' 1 0 But is this w h a t the religious expressions of mystery tell us? Are they confessions of the i n h e r e n t i n a d e q u a c y of h u m a n language? T h e first thing it is essential to note is t h a t J o b , the Psalmist a n d St Paul a r e not making s t a t e m e n t s about h u m a n language. T h e i r expressions of religious mystery are expressions in language. T h e y are not telling us that, because of the i n a d e q u a c y o f l a n g u a g e , they c a n n o t praise God. Praising G o d is precisely w h a t they are doing! C o n s i d e r the following example, which m a y throw some light on the m a t t e r . I h a p p e n to meet a m a r r i e d friend in a fairground. She is a c c o m p a n i e d by her y o u n g child. I buy the child an ice-cream, to which the m o t h e r responds by saying, ' W o r d s c a n ' t tell you how grateful I a m . ' N a t u r a l l y , I a m e m b a r r a s s e d , m a y b e a m u s e d , by this response. D e p e n d i n g on the circumstances, w h a t I take t h e m to be, I shall react to these w o r d s in one of m a n y possible ways. But I certainly do not regard t h e m as a n o r m a l response — it was, after all, only an ice-cream cone. But, now, consider the words in a situation where I know t h a t my friend, w h o is a tense, r a t h e r nervous person, is having a lot of trouble coping with her difficult child. She has promised the child an ice-cream, b u t has forgotten her purse which has all her money in it. T h e child is having a t a n t r u m , screaming the place

d o w n , a n d the m o t h e r is panicking. I b u y the ice-cream cone, to which she responds by saying, ' W o r d s c a n ' t tell you how grateful I a m . ' Does the m o t h e r fail to express her g r a t i t u d e in those words? No, she succeeds. Similarly, J o b , the Psalmist a n d St Paul are not telling us that G o d is h i d d e n f r o m t h e m because of the i n a d e q u a c y of their language. R a t h e r , they are showing us t h a t the notion of God, in their language, is that of a h i d d e n G o d : 'Verily thou are a G o d t h a t hidest thyself, O G o d of Israel, the Saviour' (Isaiah 45:15). Weil says, ' t h e very reason why G o d has decided to hide himself is t h a t we might have an idea of w h a t he is like'. 11 I n t h a t p e n e t r a t i n g r e m a r k Weil is emphasising t h a t mystery is b o u n d u p with the very g r a m m a r of our notion of G o d . T u r n that into an epistemological m u d d l e a n d one has the following misleading gloss on Weil's r e m a r k : ' I t might seem more reasonable to say t h a t G o d hides himself so that we might have no idea of w h a t he is like.' 12 If this r e m a r k were taken ironically it would have a point: J o b , the Psalmist a n d St Paul have no metaphysical idea of God. W i t h o u t the irony, we would be saying t h a t J o b , the Psalmist a n d St P a u l are glorifying a G o d with no idea of w h a t he is like! T h e picture changes w h e n mystery is seen as p a r t of the g r a m m a r of our notion of G o d . W h e n we see the way in which mysteries enter h u m a n life, a n d how the notion of G o d ' s will is related to t h e m , we see concept-formation at work in the emergence of a sense of the mysterious will of G o d . G o d ' s will does not happen to be inscrutable to us, d u e to our limitations. R a t h e r , the notion of G o d ' s will is born of w h a t is necessarily inscrutable in h u m a n life. Sometimes, this inscrutability is related to a specific incident, as w h e n it is called ' a n act of G o d ' . N o one did it, if our notion of someone doing something is a n action d o n e for s u c h - a n d - s u c h a reason, on impulse or by accident. In that sense no one p e r f o r m e d an act of G o d . T h a t is why it is called an act of G o d — ' I t j u s t h a p p e n e d . I t was a n act of G o d . ' H o w ironic it is therefore, to lose sight of this contrast in passing f r o m our o r d i n a r y u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f ' a n act of G o d ' , to our philosophical analyses of ' G o d acts' into which we i m p o r t reasons, impulses or accidents which, we say, G o d m u s t have acted from. T h e notion of the will of G o d , of course, has m o r e general application to events in the n a t u r a l world a n d to the course of our own lives. W h e n all explanations h a v e been given, in specific instances — the d e a t h of a child, the failure of a m a r r i a g e , the way events in themselves unrelated have formed a p r o b l e m a t i c

p a t t e r n — people still ask, ' W h a t is the m e a n i n g of all this?' T h e y are not looking for f u r t h e r explanations, b u t for ways of coming to terms with explanations which they have been given. Sometimes, it is true, they m a y be confused. Because they have been a c q u a i n t e d with the p u r p o s e of some things, they m a y think it makes sense to search for the p u r p o s e of everything, as t h o u g h 'everything' were one big thing or process. O n the other h a n d , they m a y not h a r b o u r these confusions, a n d asking w h a t sense can be m a d e of things need not be a n instance of h a r b o u r i n g them. After all, it is not as if religion h a s a monopoly of the answers which have been given to the question of w h a t sense life has. Faced with the events which befall t h e m m e n have said, ' I t ' s F a t e ' , ' I t ' s a b s u r d ' , ' I t ' s meaningless', ' T h a t ' s how things are', ' T h a t ' s life', ' T h a t ' s the way the cookie c r u m b l e s ' as well as ' I t ' s the will of G o d ' . T o bring out the force of these responses would be to show the life or lack of life which s u r r o u n d s them, w h a t role they play in the lives of those w h o m a k e them. W h a t is clear, however, is t h a t certain forms of reflection on h u m a n life occasion these responses, responses which could not be replaced by piecemeal explanations. People m a k e these responses while knowing all a b o u t the piecemeal explanations. Let us explore some of the s u r r o u n d i n g s of acceptance of G o d ' s will which illustrate the internal relations between such acceptance a n d the notion of mystery. First, let us look at the notion of the mysterious will of God in relation to events in the n a t u r a l world. A striking illustration of w h a t I m e a n by concept-formation in this context is to be found in the work of J a k o b Fries. when I find myself in the power of n a t u r e , with neither advice nor assistance, the fortifying a n d elevating t h o u g h t of eternal Destiny presents itself to my soul a n d my fear vanishes. Never shall I forget the sublime impression m a d e u p o n m e on the evening w h e n I m a d e m y first a c q u a i n t a n c e with the raging power of the sea. I was sitting in the stern of a little open boat a n d we were quietly exchanging jests a b o u t our u n a c c u s t o m e d pastime. Suddenly the storm fell u p o n us, ploughing u p the floods of the sea a n d hurling f o a m i n g waves against the sheer a n d rocky cliffs n e a r b y . T h e imperilled b o a t m e n h a u l e d in the sail. T h e pallid o a r s m e n exchanged terrified glances with each other a n d silently struck into the wild flood. O n t h a t havenless coast there was no other salvation t h a n that of Fate. A single

wave breaking over us f r o m the cliff would have been sufficient to d r a g us d o w n into the flood. O u r little bark pitched to a n d fro, one m o m e n t riding the crest of a wave a n d the next p l u m m e t i n g the d e p t h s of a trough. I t u r n e d my gaze u p o n the roaring t u m u l t a n d then at the black a n d t h r e a t e n i n g heavens above. But of my anxious t r e m b l i n g there was no more trace. I was seized by a sublime thrill at the t h o u g h t of the holy o m n i p o t e n c e of G o d . So vivid was t h a t impression that I would today fain issue forth once more to renew my a c q u a i n t a n c e with t h a t t u m u l t . A n d thus a m I wont happily to s t a n d , free a n d p r o u d , confronting the t h u n d e r . T h u s , in the thick of battle, does the sublime t h o u g h t steady my nerve a n d elevate my m i n d . For, in battle, although it is true t h a t the boldness a n d c o m p o s u r e of the c o m m a n d e r s a n d the valour of the troops secures the a r m y victory, w h e t h e r or not the individual is to fall a sacrifice to victory, a victim of the e n e m y sword, or w h e t h e r , m o u r n ing his b r o t h e r w h o has given his life u p o n the field of battle, he is destined to join the celebrations of the victory gained — t h a t is decided by the h a n d of Destiny alone. 1 3 T h e s e a r e primitive reactions which play a central role in the f o r m a t i o n of the concept of G o d ' s inscrutable will. I do not k n o w how a n y f u r t h e r justification could be given of these reactions, or how a n y alternative account could explain t h e m away. I n m o m e n t s of extreme peril, such as being in a storm at sea, a person m a y say t h a t his life is in G o d ' s h a n d s . G o d ' s will will be m a d e manifest in his survival or destruction, as it is in the raging storm. Above the waves, above the t h u n d e r a n d the lightning, is the o m n i p o t e n c e of G o d — a n o m n i p o t e n c e the writer finds both terrible a n d wonderful. T h e notion of G o d ' s will gets its sense in such reactions. C o n t r a s t this with the view that primitive m a n responds in this w a y because of a prior conclusion he has reached, namely, t h a t because he is not responsible for the storm, someone else, greater t h a n himself, m u s t be responsible. O n this view, the reactions in the storm a r e a consequence of previously held beliefs. Such a view ignores concept-formation in religious belief. T h e sense of belief in G o d is itself rooted in reactions such as reactions to the storm. T h e notion of G o d ' s will is not related to w h a t has h a p p e n e d as a higher explanation. O n the contrary, a l t h o u g h the divine will is higher in so far as it holds together, with a certain sense, the

events I have described, t h a t sense does not explain away the sheer contingency of h u m a n life in face of the storm. ' I t is the will of G o d ' is not an a n s w e r to the question ' W h y is this h a p p e n i n g ? ' b u t one way in which someone m a y die to the desire to ask the question. T h e notion of G o d ' s will is formed, not in a search for explanations, but in the a b a n d o n m e n t of explanations. It is not as if there was something, an explanation, which could be u n d e r s t o o d , but which, as a m a t t e r of fact, we c a n n o t u n d e r stand. T h e r e is n o t h i n g to u n d e r s t a n d ; no explanation. It is precisely in the absence of a n y t h i n g to show why he should perish or survive the storm, t h a t the person comes to see t h a t his own fate is not the p r i m a r y consideration. Being at the mercy of G o d ' s will leads to a sense of wonder, w o n d e r at the contingency of life, the miracle of existence. In face of it, a m a n dies to the u n d e r s t a n d i n g , but not in the sense of failing in, or waiving, a n u n d e r s t a n d i n g of w h a t could be u n d e r s t o o d . O n the contrary, he dies to the u n d e r s t a n d i n g in the sense of seeing that w h a t confronts him is not a m a t t e r for the u n d e r s t a n d i n g . T h i s is w h a t J o b recognises in his reaction to the contingencies which came to him: ' T h e Lord gave, the Lord h a t h taken away, blessed be the n a m e of the L o r d . ' 1 4 Theodicies distort this m o d e of religious acceptance. T h e y w a n t to m a k e our ways G o d ' s ways, a n d our t h o u g h t s his thoughts. T h e y do not recognise that w h a t needs to come in at the right place in this context is not explanation, but awe, w o n d e r a n d mystery. W e could say, in this context, w h a t Weil said of suffering, t h a t religion has a use, but no r e m e d y for it. I a m not saying, of course, t h a t a sense of the contingencies of life m u s t lead to the notion of the mystery of G o d ' s will. O n the contrary, reactions to the storm need a m o u n t to no more t h a n a cry in the d a r k , a d e s p e r a t e need for comfort. T h e s u r r o u n d i n g s will show t h a t that is w h a t these reactions a m o u n t to. O n the other h a n d , we could imagine rites developing a r o u n d these reactions of terror which, so far f r o m seeking comfortable reassurances, seek to celebrate the contingency of h u m a n life t h r o u g h its expression of w h a t is terrible. I m a g i n e a rite in which children d a n c e a r o u n d a pit of fire. T h e wizard points at one of the children, a n d immediately the child is t h r o w n into the pit. O n e m i n u t e d a n c i n g , the next c o n s u m e d in the flames: life is in the h a n d s of a terrible G o d . It is t e m p t i n g to argue t h a t since m a n m a y be depicted as bowing in subjection before the inscrutableness of an o m n i p o t e n t will in most of the examples I have given, the only rational reaction

is resigned acceptance of w h a t e v e r h a p p e n s . 'All things c o m e f r o m G o d ' seems to m e a n no more t h a n ' W h a t e v e r h a p p e n s h a p p e n s ' . Surely, it might be t h o u g h t , the only justifiable response is a n undifferentiating resignation.' 0 W e have seen why these conclusions do not follow. First, resignation is as m u c h a reaction to contingencies as any other. It is a reaction, not an inference or a r g u m e n t . It does not represent something called a rational reaction as opposed to the others we have considered. I n s t e a d of d e n y i n g t h a t the others are rational, a t t e n t i o n m u s t be paid, in the ways we have suggested, to concept-formation in these contexts. W h e n we do this we can, as philosophers, allow senses of mystery to come in at the right place. F u r t h e r , w h e n this is done, w h e n we see w h a t recognition of the will of G o d comes to, we can also see how this would have a b e a r i n g on specific events in people's lives. For example, if a sense of being in the h a n d s of G o d leads a person to see t h a t n o t h i n g is his by right, then this will have consequences for the satisfaction a n d d i s a p p o i n t m e n t of his desires. After all his efforts a r e done, he sees the o u t c o m e is in G o d ' s h a n d s . In this way he mediates the sense of the will of G o d in his a t t i t u d e to both success a n d failure. T o illustrate this point f u r t h e r , we can consider the notion of the mysterious will of God in relation to our j u d g e m e n t s concerning ourselves a n d others. H e r e , too, we can see how dying to the u n d e r s t a n d i n g , in a certain sense, is called for. C o n s i d e r the following words: ' T h e first shall be last, a n d the last first.'16 H o w are these words to be understood? W e m a y think t h a t these words report a mistake, a r a t h e r serious miscalculation. After all, we seem to be talking a b o u t m o r e t h a n a m e r e slip — the first actually last, a n d the last first! T h i n k of the chaos which would ensue if this mistake were r e p e a t e d in other walks of life. T h i n k of horse-races: those horses tipped to be first coming in last a n d those horses tipped to be last coming in first. O n l y oddsmakers would be h a p p y ! But it is difficult to see how the world of life i n s u r a n c e could survive: ail-American boys dying like flies a n d the chronically ill getting c o n g r a t u l a t o r y telegrams on their h u n d r e d t h birthdays. T h e first last a n d the last first. A n d w h a t of those g r a d u a t e s of first-class universities h o p i n g to take the world by storm? T h o s e h o p i n g for h o n o u r s failing a n d failures getting high honours. W h a t would be our reactions to these c a t a s t r o p h e s which have swept t h r o u g h our institutions a n d practices? Well, after the initial shock, surely, we would try to find out w h a t h a d gone wrong. W e would w a n t to rectify m a t t e r s

so that our j u d g e m e n t s could be on a firm footing again; rectify m a t t e r s so t h a t the first a n d the last could be in their p r o p e r places again. Yet, the words of the text have to do with something far m o r e i m p o r t a n t t h a n horse-racing, i n s u r a n c e or a c a d e m i c grades. T h e y have to do with the soul's destiny in the sight of God. A n d our reaction to h e a r i n g t h a t a mistake has been m a d e in this area, might be the s a m e as our reaction to the other mistakes: we strive to rectify m a t t e r s , to see that those w h o deserve to be first are first, a n d those w h o deserve to be last, really are last. W i t h such a thing as how we stand in G o d ' s final j u d g e m e n t , surely we w a n t to be sure that those who are in are really in a n d those who are out are really out. T h e a t t i t u d e has some similarities to those who, f r o m time to time, a t t e m p t to find out w h a t has been written a b o u t t h e m in the obituary columns of the L o n d o n Times. T h e y w a n t to know, before they die, w h a t is going to be said a b o u t t h e m after they die. But, now, do not these comparisons badly mislead us where the scriptural words are concerned, those words which speak of the first being last a n d the last being first? W e have a s s u m e d that these words refer to a mistake, a mistake of miscalculation. But t h a t was not the sin involved. T h e sin was not to miscalculate where they stood in the sight of G o d , but to want to calculate at all. T h e y t h o u g h t they were dealing with s o m e t h i n g which could be seen a n d t h a t their mistake was to see it incorrectly. It looks as if they were i g n o r a n t of an eschatological state of affairs, which, for reasons of self-interest, they would like to know a b o u t . P e r h a p s it a p p e a r s to be something t h a t you could merely be curious a b o u t . B u t to let mystery come in at the right place w h e r e the destiny of the h u m a n soul before G o d is concerned, is, once again, to see w h a t is unseen. T o accept the mystery is not a m a t t e r of being content with ignorance where knowledge could be h a d , but, r a t h e r , a m a t t e r of coming to accept a spiritual t r u t h . T h i s can be illustrated by reference to Flannery O ' C o n n o r ' s w o n d e r f u l short story, 'Revelation'. T o the large M r s T u r p i n in the doctor's waiting-room, there is no mystery a b o u t how people are to be understood. Sometimes M r s T u r p i n occupied herself at night n a m i n g the classes of people. O n the b o t t o m of the h e a p were most coloured people, not the kind she would have been if she h a d been one, b u t most of them; then next to t h e m — not

above, j u s t a w a y f r o m — were the white-trash; then above t h e m were the home-owners, a n d above t h e m the h o m e - a n d land owners to which she a n d C l a u d (her h u s b a n d ) belonged. Above she a n d C l a u d were people with a lot of money a n d m u c h m o r e land. 1 7 T h e r e were times w h e n she w o n d e r e d w h a t she would do if J e s u s were to confront her with the following d i l e m m a : ' T h e r e ' s only two places available for you. You can either be a nigger or whitetrash.' 1 8 Because of the c h a n g i n g circumstances in the c o m m u n i t y a b o u t her, o p e r a t i n g her categories posed difficulties for her: But here the complexity of it would begin to bear in on her, for some of the people with a lot of money were c o m m o n a n d o u g h t to be below she a n d C l a u d a n d some of the people who h a d good blood h a d lost their money a n d h a d to rent a n d then there were coloured people w h o owned their h o m e s a n d land as well. T h e r e was a coloured dentist in town w h o h a d two red Lincolns a n d a s w i m m i n g pool a n d a f a r m with registered white-face cattle on it. Usually by the time she h a d fallen asleep all the classes of people were moiling a n d roiling a r o u n d in her h e a d , a n d she would d r e a m they were all c r a m m e d in together in a boxcar being ridden off to be 19 p u t in a gas oven. In the waiting-room there is a n o t h e r respectable white lady in w h o m M r s T u r p i n senses a kindred soul. U n f o r t u n a t e l y , she is a c c o m p a n i e d by her sullen ugly d a u g h t e r . T h e question occurs to M r s T u r p i n , ' W h a t if J e s u s h a d said, "All right, you can be white-trash or a nigger or ugly!" ' 2 0 H e r own destiny is certainly no mystery to her. A gospel song is being played, ' W h e n I looked u p a n d H e looked d o w n ' a n d she supplies the response in her m i n d , ' A n d w o n a these days I know I'll we-eara crown.' 2 1 D u r i n g the wait in the surgery, various conversations take place, all of which a n n o y the sullen d a u g h t e r m o r e a n d more. H e r m o t h e r begins to discuss her d a u g h t e r ' s lack of m a n n e r s with M r s T u r p i n , complaining that studying at Wellesley College has not i m p r o v e d her. 'If it's one thing I a m , ' M r s T u r p i n said with feeling, 'it's grateful. W h e n I think w h o all I could have been besides myself a n d all I got, a little of everything, a n d a good

disposition besides. I j u s t feel like shouting, " T h a n k you, J e s u s , for m a k i n g everything the way it is!" It could have been different!' For one thing, somebody else could have got C l a u d . At the t h o u g h t of this, she was flooded with g r a t i t u d e a n d a terrible p a n g of j o y r a n t h r o u g h her. ' O h t h a n k you, J e s u s , J e s u s , t h a n k you!' she cried aloud. 2 2 At t h a t m o m e n t the girl's book hits her in the eye a n d her nails are in the flesh of her neck. T h e girl kicks C l a u d ' s ulcerated leg. T h e girl has some kind of fit, a n d has to be sedated, but her eyes are fixed on M r s T u r p i n . M r s T u r p i n leans over her: ' W h a t you got to say to me?' she asked hoarsely and held her b r e a t h , waiting, as for a revelation. T h e girl raised her head. H e r gaze locked with M r s T u r p i n ' s . ' G o back to hell w h e r e you c a m e from, you old w a r t hog,' she whispered. H e r voice was low b u t clear. H e r eyes b u r n e d for a m o m e n t as if she saw with pleasure t h a t her message h a d struck its target. 2 3 T h e y all agree t h a t the girl has h a d a fit. Some say she is destined to be a lunatic. ' " I t h a n k G a w d , " the white-trash w o m a n said fervently, " I a i n ' t a lunatic".' 2 4 Back on the f a r m M r s T u r p i n c a n n o t get the image out of her m i n d — a w a r t hog f r o m hell. She tries to greet her black w o r k h a n d s in the usual way. She h a d always said that black people should be shown love, for in t h a t w a y they worked better for you. She h a s to tell t h e m of the incident in the doctor's waitingr o o m , but, seeing t h r o u g h their flattery a n d reassurance, she finds no consolation. I n the final scene in the story, M r s T u r p i n is hosing d o w n her hogs. Suddenly, she speaks, ' " W h a t do you send m e a message like t h a t for?" she said in a low fierce voice, barely above a whisper but with the force of a shout in the c o n c e n t r a t e d fury. " H o w a m I a hog a n d me both? H o w a m I saved a n d f r o m hell too?" ' 2 5 H e r fury against G o d grows a n d in it is revealed once again the way in which she thinks of other people: ' W h y me?' she m u m b l e d . ' I t ' s no t r a s h a r o u n d here, black or white, t h a t I h a v e n ' t given to. A n d break my back to the bone every d a y working. A n d do for the c h u r c h . ' ... ' H o w a m I a hog?' she d e m a n d e d . 'Exactly how a m I like t h e m

... T h e r e was plenty of trash there. It d i d n ' t have to be me. If you like trash better, go get yourself some trash then,' she railed. 'You could have m a d e m e trash. O r a nigger. If trash is w h a t you w a n t e d why d i d n ' t you m a k e me trash?' ... 'I could quit working a n d take it easy a n d be filthy,' she growled. ' L o u n g e a b o u t the sidewalks all d a y d r i n k i n g root beer. D i p snuff and spit in every p u d d l e a n d have it all over my face. I could be nasty. O r you could have m a d e m e a nigger. It's too late for m e to be a nigger,' she said with d e e p sarcasm, ' b u t I could act like one. Lay d o w n in the m i d d l e of the road a n d stop traffic. Roll on the g r o u n d . ' 2 6 H e r railings against G o d come to their climax: ' G o on,' she yelled, 'call m e a hog! Call m e a hog again. F r o m hell. Call me a w a r t hog f r o m hell! Put t h a t b o t t o m rail on top. T h e r e ' l l still be a top a n d bottom!' ... A final surge of fury shook her a n d she roared, ' W h o do you think you are?' T h e colour of everything, field a n d crimson sky, b u r n e d for a m o m e n t with a t r a n s p a r e n t intensity. T h e question carried over the p a s t u r e a n d across the h i g h w a y a n d the cotton field a n d r e t u r n e d to her clearly like an a n s w e r f r o m beyond the wood. 2 7 W h o do you think you are? — in the echo is the beginning of her new realisation. Alone, with the hogs, the final revelation arrives: T h e r e was only a p u r p l e streak in the sky, cutting t h r o u g h a field of crimson a n d leading, like an extension of the highway, into the descending dusk. She raised her h a n d s from the side of the pen in a gesture hieratic a n d p r o f o u n d . A visionary light settled in her eyes. She saw the streak as a vast swinging bridge extending u p w a r d f r o m the e a r t h t h r o u g h a field of living fire. U p o n it a vast h o r d e of souls were r u m b l i n g toward heaven. T h e r e were whole companies of white-trash clean for the first time in their lives, a n d b a n d s of black niggers in white robes, a n d battalions of freaks a n d lunatics shouting a n d clapping a n d leaping like frogs. A n d bringing u p the end of the procession were a tribe of people w h o m she recognised at once as those who, like herself a n d C l a u d , h a d always h a d a little of everything

a n d the God-given wit to use it right. She leaned forward to observe t h e m closer. T h e y were m a r c h i n g behind the others with great dignity, a c c o u n t a b l e as they h a d always been for good order a n d c o m m o n sense a n d respectable behaviour. T h e y alone were on key. Yet she could see by their shocked a n d altered faces t h a t even their virtues were being b u r n e d away. She lowered her h a n d s a n d gripped the rail of the hog pen, her eyes small but fixed unblinkingly on w h a t lay a h e a d . In a m o m e n t the vision faded but she r e m a i n e d where she was, immobile. At length she got d o w n a n d t u r n e d off the faucet a n d m a d e her slow way on the d a r k e n i n g p a t h to the house. In the woods a r o u n d her the invisible cricket choruses h a d struck up, but w h a t she h e a r d were the voices of the souls climbing u p w a r d into the starry field a n d shouting hallelujah. 2 8 T h e necessary mystery of the soul's destiny remains. A mystery revealed is not like a practical p r o b l e m solved or a philosophical puzzle dissolved. O n e feeds on the mystery. W h a t the story shows is one possibility of the way in which the acceptance of a mystery is m e d i a t e d t h r o u g h the way it is possible to think of other people. T h e possibility does not m e a n , a n d neither did F l a n n e r y O ' C o n n o r m e a n , that all j u d g e m e n t s of others should cease, b u t a great deal d e p e n d s on the spirit in which the j u d g e m e n t s are m a d e . W e are not to claim a final knowledge of ourselves a n d others such t h a t we, but not they, are to have access to G o d . H e r e we are to die to the u n d e r s t a n d i n g , it is something no h u m a n can claim to have. T o claim such knowledge, to a t t r i b u t e a spiritual superiority to oneself, is itself an offence against the spirit. F r a n t i c desires a n d a t t e m p t s to d e t e r m i n e w h o is in a n d w h o is out in the sight of G o d , receive the reply — w h o d o you think you are? T h e eternal destiny of the individual soul m u s t be left to G o d . I n one of her letters, F l a n n e r y O ' C o n n o r says, 'I read recently somewhere a b o u t a priest u p for canonization. It was reported in the findings a b o u t him t h a t he h a d said of a m a n on the scaffold w h o h a d been b l a s p h e m o u s u p to the last t h a t this m a n would surely go to hell; on the basis of this r e m a r k he was denied canonization.' 2 9 By waiting on Flannery O ' C o n n o r ' s story we can see h o w it shows one w a y in which mystery comes in at the right place. It shows how leaving things to G o d is not a theoretical m a t t e r or a n inevitability. O n the contrary, it is something m e n find difficult

to do. I t is s o m e t h i n g w h i c h h a s to be w o r k e d at; s o m e t h i n g w h i c h m a y be revealed as it w a s to M r s T u r p i n . As a result of letting m y s t e r y c o m e in at t h e r i g h t place, w h a t h a s h a p p e n e d to t h e e p i s t e m o l o g i c a l c o n t e x t in w h i c h o u r p r o b l e m w a s t h o u g h t to be o n e of s h o w i n g h o w w e can speak of G o d , given t h a t o u r l a n g u a g e hides f r o m h i m f r o m us? W h a t w e h a v e seen is t h a t l a n g u a g e is not a screen w h i c h hides G o d f r o m us. O n t h e c o n t r a r y , t h e i d e a of G o d in the l a n g u a g e we h a v e b e e n e x p l a i n i n g , is t h e i d e a of a h i d d e n G o d — Vere tu es Deus absconditus.30

Notes 1. Kierkegaard, Concluding Unscientific Postscript, pp. 191 f. Quoted by Bouwsma in 'The Invisible' in Without Proof or Evidence, p. 31. 2. Bouwsma, Without Proof or Evidence, p. 28. 3. I b i d , p. 34. 4. Simone Weil, 'Draft for a Statement of H u m a n Obligations' (1943) in Selected Essays 1934-1943, trans. Richard Rees (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1962). 5. M . O ' C Drury, 'Some Notes on Conversations with Wittgenstein' in Rush Rhees (ed.), Ludwig Wittgenstein — Personal Recollections (Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1981), p. 99. 6. Simone Weil, First and Last Notebooks, trans. Richard Rees (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1970), p. 147. 7. Winch, 'Meaning and Religious Language,' p. 210. 8. Flannery O'Connor, Mystery and Manners, sel. and ed. Sally and Robert Fitzgerald (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, New York, 1969), p. 41. 9. Whittaker, 'Literal and Figurative Language', p. 48. 10. Conway, 'Phillips and "The inadequacy of language" ', p. 93. 11. Simone Weil, Lectures on Philosophy, trans. H.S. Price, intro. Peter Winch (Cambridge University Press, 1978), pp. 171-2. 12. Translator's note by H.S. Price, i b i d , p. 172. 13. Jakob Fries, Dialogues on Morality and Religion, trans. David Walford, intro. Rush Rhees, ed. D.Z. Phillips (Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1982), pp. 10-11. I am indebted to Rush Rhees for discussions of Fries. 14. See Phillips, Concept of Prayer, pp. 61-2; 98-100; 155-6. 15. These pertinent questions were put to me by Eric Mack at Tulane University when I read a version o f ' G r a c e and works'. T h e questions resemble those of C.W.K. Mundle who asked why, if all prayers end with 'Thy will be done' one should make any specific requests at all. See Concept of Prayer, p. 121 f. 16. Matt. 19:30. 17. Flannery O'Connor, 'Revelation' in Everything That Rises Must Converge (Faber and Faber, London, 1965), p. 195. 18. I b i d , p. 195. 19. I b i d , pp. 195-6.

20. Ibid., p. 196. 21. Ibid., p. 194. 22. Ibid., pp. 205-6. 23. Ibid., pp. 207-8. 24. Ibid., p. 209. 25. Ibid., p. 215. 26. Ibid., pp. 215-16. 27. Ibid., pp. 216-17. 28. Ibid., pp. 217-18. 29. O'Connor, Habit of Being, p. 102. 30. For a philosophical and literary discussion of a poet's hard-won celebration of belief in such a God, see D.Z. Phillips, R.S. Thomas: Poet of the Hidden God (Macmillan, London, 1986).

21 Morality, Grace and Concept-Formation

W e began the final p a r t of this book by showing, in C h a p t e r 18, how easily religious mysteries can become epistemological mysteries. It is so easy to see our task as that of leaping over the wall of the enclosure we are in, to a metaphysical reality which lies without. A n d all the time, as we have seen, w h a t was needed was all a b o u t us if only we would wait on it. For various reasons, the enclosure we find ourselves in is not one, for the most part, in which the majority speak of the inescapable reality of G o d . As we have said, for us the p r o b l e m seems to be one of finding G o d r a t h e r t h a n of escaping from him. Nevertheless, as we saw in the last c h a p t e r , it is still possible to g r a s p the sense of talking of an inescapable G o d if only we let mystery c o m e in at the right place. W e saw this in relation to the notion of the mysterious will of G o d in connection with n a t u r a l events a n d our j u d g e m e n t s of other people. W h e n we can wait on these conceptual reminders, we see t h a t while religious belief talks of a sense which lies outside the enclosure, the grasping of t h a t sense d e p e n d s on seeing how it illuminates w h a t is within the enclosure. It is difficult in philosophy of religion to give a perspicuous representation of the m o d e of application which religious concepts have. As we have seen, it is difficult to recognise the place of mystery in religious belief. I n d e e d , there are plenty of voices within the enclosure which say t h a t these difficulties are i n s u r m o u n t a b l e , since they come f r o m a desire to say w h a t c a n n o t be said. According to these voices, talk of mystery distorts too m u c h of w h a t we know within the enclosure. T a l k of a mystery of grace in n a t u r e or in our dealings with others seems to be no more t h a n indulgence in magical concepts. W e are better off, it is said, with the honest e n d e a v o u r s we are a q u a i n t e d with. T h e s e

endeavours, very often, do not a m o u n t to m u c h , but at least they are ours a n d we do not falsify them. T h e help which is said to come from G o d ' s grace is no help at all. It threatens our u n d e r s t a n d i n g of moral e n d e a v o u r with magical promises of divine deliverance. 1 I n face of objections such as these, our task, as before, is to p a y attention to concept-formation in religious belief, in this case, the conceptual relations between grace a n d works. H e r e is a familiar religious setting in which talk of grace a n d works has a n a t u r a l home: m a n , it is said, wishes to be accepted by a holy a n d j u s t G o d . In order to be accepted, he e n d e a v o u r s to keep G o d ' s c o m m a n d m e n t s . His justification before G o d will then d e p e n d on the merits of his works. Yet, if he is honest with himself, he has to a d m i t that he fails in his e n d e a v o u r s again a n d again. H e has to a d m i t t h a t he is a sinner. But how can a sinner be justified before a holy a n d j u s t God? If his salvation d e p e n d s on the merits of his works, he is without hope. Yet, he is saved from despair by good news of G o d ' s grace. God has elected to save the sinner without regard to the believer's good works. M a n ' s salvation does not d e p e n d on w h a t m a n has d o n e for G o d , b u t on w h a t G o d has d o n e for m a n . Salvation is the free gift of G o d ' s grace. M a n need not despair at his lack of good works. All he has to do is to believe w h a t God has done for him a n d be grateful for it. Yet, it is this familiar religious context which has led to so m u c h theological controversy within religion a n d to so m a n y philosophical objections to religion. T h e most extreme interpretation of the religious setting to cause these diverse reactions h a s been, u n d o u b t e d l y , the doctrine of predestination. M y p u r p o s e here, even if I could fulfil it, is not to provide a full discussion of this doctrine, b u t simply to illustrate, by reference to it, how the difficulties concerning recognising conceptformation in religious belief arise. J o h n W h i t t a k e r has shown w h a t h a p p e n s w h e n the doctrine of predestination is taken out of its religious setting a n d m a d e the subject of a b s t r a c t metaphysical speculation. O n the face of it, the doctrine seems ... frightening ... since it is terrifying to think t h a t one might be arbitrarily excluded from salvation by divine fiat ... Such a G o d makes all of us t h e victims of an a r b i t r a r y destiny, a destiny which seems u n s p e a k a b l y cruel to those w h o t h r o u g h no fault of their own are left to misery a n d d a m n a t i o n . Unless, of course,

G o d somehow foreknows the virtues of his elect; but in that case G o d ' s foreknowledge seems to close our futures in the stifling grip of determinism. H o w can G o d know w h a t people are going to do in order to r e w a r d or p u n i s h t h e m in a d v a n c e of their deeds, if it lies within their power to do as they please? O r if it does not lie within their power, how can they be said to be worthy or u n w o r t h y of his grace? A n d how can G o d be said to be j u s t in dispensing this grace? 2 According to W h i t t a k e r , this is a metaphysical caricature of the doctrine, one which it is fatal to entertain on its own terms. W h a t is needed is a c h a n g e of direction which shows the irrelevance of the metaphysical a r g u m e n t s . T h i s is w h a t L u t h e r tried to achieve. W h i t t a k e r tells us t h a t L u t h e r tried to bring out the religious point of the doctrine in terms of the fears the doctrine was m e a n t to allay. T h e s e fears h a d to do with the question of how a m a n ' s soul can be saved if he has to rely on his good works. O n l y by taking this into account can we come to see w h a t reliance on G o d ' s grace can m e a n in a believer's life. In elucidating the development of belief in G o d ' s grace in L u t h e r , W h i t t a k e r r e m i n d s us t h a t L u t h e r h a d been t a u g h t t h a t G o d ' s grace was freely available, but only to those w h o were properly r e p e n t a n t . O n l y those w h o sincerely a n d completely confessed their failings, a n d w h o sincerely willed to live according to the law of G o d , would be forgiven a n d s t r e n g t h e n e d . For t h e m the s a c r a m e n t s would be the everavailable m e a n s of grace, but for those w h o lacked or lost a properly receptive heart, the s a c r a m e n t s would become ineffectual. 3 W h e n he reflected on his own life, this b e c a m e a doctrine of despair for L u t h e r , because he h a d to recognise that he failed repeatedly in good works a n d even in w a n t i n g to have a p u r e heart, a n d the more he tried to have a p u r e intention, the more artificial the very trying m a d e his e n d e a v o u r seem. O n the view with which he was presented, w h a t 'grace' c a m e to was a belief t h a t ' G o d makes u p the difference between w h a t we intend a n d w h a t we actually accomplish in the way of doing his will, so t h a t we can actually achieve the righteousness needed for salvation.' 4 T h e doctrine of predestination came as a liberating force to L u t h e r , one which rescued h i m f r o m his despair. W h a t he c a m e

to realise is that salvation comes from election, t h a t G o d offers his grace prior to a n y t h i n g a m a n does, 'so t h a t it r e m a i n s only for one to believe in it a n d be grateful for it.' 5 I n this way, W h i t t a k e r argues, a h a r s h doctrine was t r a n s f o r m e d , 'for as long as G o d offers His grace in consequence of the believer's merit, the acutely conscious sinner is left without hope. If G o d g r a n t s his grace prior to the sinner's hopeless a t t e m p t s to rectify his i m p u r e will, however, then the h a p p i n e s s which he could not possess t h r o u g h his own effort becomes possible t h r o u g h G o d . ' 6 W h i t t a k e r would claim,I think, that, in this way, the doctrine of grace ceases to be a doctrine of fairness a n d becomes a doctrine of love. Yet, despite this hoped-for t r a n s f o r m a t i o n in the doctrine, it is precisely to the details of h o w this t r a n s f o r m a t i o n is effected t h a t objecting voices have been raised. W e can see how the objections occur if we look at W h i t t a k e r ' s own a t t e m p t to provide details of the n a t u r e of the t r a n s f o r m a t i o n f r o m reliance on works to reliance on grace. H e characterises the c h a n g e in two ways: first, he suggests t h a t reliance on works has a self-defeating character, a n d , second, that reliance on works relies on ineffective a t t e m p t s to f u r t h e r one's self-interest. As we shall see, both characterisations lead to i n s u p e r a b l e difficulties. First, w h a t of the suggestion t h a t a t t e m p t s to save one's soul by reliance on good works are self-defeating? W h i t t a k e r says that L u t h e r ' s a t t e m p t s to possess a p u r e h e a r t were self-defeating. T h e more he tried, the more he despaired. W h i t t a k e r claims t h a t L u t h e r is in a confused state: ' L u t h e r was like one w h o on some grievous occasion tries to feel a p p r o p r i a t e l y s a d d e n e d , but in trying to feel sad feels only u n n a t u r a l a n d insincere.' 7 T h e confusion consists in thinking t h a t one can be sad by trying to be sad. W h i t t a k e r seems to e q u a t e L u t h e r ' s despair with the confusion involved in the self-defeating a t t e m p t to a t t a i n righteousness by m a k i n g righteousness an end to which one's actions are supposed to be the m e a n s . A transition f r o m a state of reliance on good works, to a state of reliance on divine grace, involves, for W h i t t a k e r , freeing oneself f r o m a state of conceptual confusion. T h e obvious difficulty with this analysis of reliance on good works is t h a t a m a n w h o is in despair a b o u t his moral e n d e a v o u r s need not be conceptually confused in the way W h i t t a k e r describes at all. O n the contrary, he m a y be clear-sightedly free of such confusion. Consider one of Simone Weil's examples of a p u r e action, t h a t of a father absorbed in play with his children. A n o t h e r father m a y recognise that he is not like this. But he m a y also see

quite clearly that he can never become like this by m a k i n g s p o n t a n e o u s absorption in play with his children an end which he can aim for. H e c a n n o t plan to be spontaneous! H e appreciates the confusion involved in that. But he is dejected nevertheless, a n d so his dejection does not d e p e n d on the confusion. A m a n m a y be dejected simply because of w h a t he is. T h i s being so, there are difficulties for the way in which W h i t t a k e r w a n t s to describe the distinctive liberation which comes to a m a n w h o comes to rely on divine grace. T h a t distinctive liberation c a n n o t be said to consist essentially in seeing t h a t moral purity c a n n o t be m a d e the goal of m o r a l e n d e a v o u r . That recognition would m a r k a transition f r o m a confusion a b o u t a regard for decency to a clearer view of it. T h e a t t a i n m e n t of such clarity, however, need not lead to any sense of reliance on divine grace a n d so certainly c a n n o t be e q u a t e d with a transition to such reliance. Neither, as we have seen, is it a necessary condition of such a transition, since neither the m a n w h o e n d e a v o u r s to be decent nor the m a n w h o comes to rely on divine grace need ever have been confused in the way W h i t t a k e r describes. W h a t of W h i t t a k e r ' s second a t t e m p t to account for the transition f r o m reliance on works to reliance on grace? It has the u n f o r t u n a t e consequence of r e d u c i n g morality to the p u r s u i t of self-interest. W h i t t a k e r says t h a t prior to his recognition of w h a t G o d h a s done, a person performed good deeds 'for his own selfacceptance', whereas after he has recognised w h a t G o d has d o n e , the believer performs these deeds 'out of g r a t i t u d e ' for w h a t G o d has d o n e for him. 8 T h i s depiction of moral e n d e a v o u r has farr e a c h i n g difficulties. Does a m a n do good works in order to save his soul? W h a t if a m a n says t h a t he j u m p e d into a river to save a child f r o m d r o w n i n g in order to save his soul? W o u l d n ' t it m a k e sense to reply: ' W e t h o u g h t you j u m p e d in for the sake of the child?' Purity of soul is not achieved by m a k i n g purity of h e a r t an aim. Purity or otherwise is shown in the character of one's actions. Decency does not d e p e n d on one's actions leading to some f u r t h e r end called salvation, which is t h o u g h t of as contingently related to them. Any goal postulated as the goal of our actions is as answerable to the d e m a n d s of decency as the m e a n s which lead to it. W h i t t a k e r should have come to these conclusions, too, for w h e n he accounts for the transition f r o m a concern with purely p r u d e n t i a l considerations to a concern with m o r a l considerations, he is fully a w a r e of a conception of m o r a l e n d e a v o u r which is not

self-defeating in c h a r a c t e r a n d which is obviously inexplicable in terms of enlightened self-interest. W h i t t a k e r shows how futile it would be to a t t e m p t to d e m o n s t r a t e , according to some c o m m o n m e a s u r e of interest, that m o r a l considerations serve m e n ' s interests more t h a n p r u d e n t i a l considerations. W h i t t a k e r argues, rightly, that as long as the point of m o r a l principles is to override p r u d e n t i a l considerations by instituting prescriptive j u d g e m e n t s of obligation, the moralist c a n n o t afford to defend his principles on his o p p o n e n t ' s g r o u n d . T h e m o r a l believer would defeat his own p u r p o s e s if he set aside the point of his principles merely to win their acceptance on p r u d e n t i a l g r o u n d s , for the acceptance of these principles as p r u d e n t policies would not require the believer to exercise any higher ideals. Such a believer would not enter into any new, peculiarly moral d o m a i n of j u d g e m e n t . W i t h o u t a d h e r i n g to m o r a l beliefs as the f o u n d a t i o n of a different kind of reflection, beyond p r u d e n t i a l reasoning, he simply would not become a dutiful person. A n d for all those who believe t h a t we h a v e m o r a l duties, that makes no sense at all. 9 H e r e , m o r a l duties, as depicted by W h i t t a k e r , neither exhibit a self-defeating character, nor serve as m e r e m e a n s to a f u r t h e r end. O n the o t h e r h a n d , given this depiction of moral duties, W h i t t a k e r ' s account of the transition f r o m reliance on m o r a l e n d e a v o u r to reliance on grace becomes problematic: 1Rather than thinking that his ultimate happiness and fulfilment might be secured as the end product of moral achievement, the believer forgoes the whole range of means/ends judgements in connection with his happiness.'10 But in his account of the transition from a concern with p r u d e n c e to a m o r a l concern, W h i t t a k e r ' s whole point was t h a t morality, unlike p r u d e n c e , should not be construed in terms of conduct d e t e r m i n e d by the relation of m e a n s to ends. I n t h a t case, W h i t t a k e r is construing the reliance on divine grace as involving the giving u p of a conception of m o r a l e n d e a v o u r which, on his own admission, is confused. T h i s being so, those w h o w a n t to resist any suggestion of a necessary transition to reliance on grace f r o m reliance on m o r a l e n d e a v o u r will point out, quite correctly, that there is n o t h i n g self-defeating or prudentially i n s t r u m e n t a l in a concern for m o r a l considerations. If someone e x p o u n d i n g how a reliance on grace

m a y come a b o u t relies on i m p u t i n g such characteristics to m o r a l e n d e a v o u r , objectors will justifiably point out the groundlessness of the i m p u t a t i o n . O f course, it m a y still be the case, as we shall see, that reliance on divine grace is internally related to m o r a l e n d e a v o u r , b u t t h a t connection has yet to be elucidated satisfactorily. Before exploring the internal relations between the notions of grace a n d m o r a l endeavour, there is a second way in which objecting voices m a y be raised against reliance on divine grace. So far f r o m stressing internal relations with m o r a l e n d e a v o u r , it might be said, talk of reliance on grace fails to treat such e n d e a v o u r seriously by advocating, instead, a magical conception of salvation a n d deliverance. But, as F l a n n e r y O ' C o n n o r has said, 'you c a n n o t show the operation of grace w h e n grace is cut off f r o m n a t u r e . ' 1 1 W h i t t a k e r is a w a r e of the d a n g e r s involved a n d he points out that L u t h e r was a w a r e of t h e m too. L u t h e r called the doctrine of predestination 'strong m e a t ' , not to be given to those not ready for it. O n e way of not being ready to u n d e r s t a n d the doctrine is to divorce it f r o m everything in L u t h e r ' s life which led him to e m b r a c e it. If we take away the consciousness of sin, if we take a w a y the heavy conscience a n d the threat of despair, then we w o n ' t u n d e r s t a n d w h a t we a r e being told w h e n it is said t h a t G o d has already prescribed for m a n ' s salvation 'so that it r e m a i n s only for one to believe it a n d to be grateful for it.' 1 2 W e m a y find ourselves saying that, according to such a view, we can do w h a t we like since G o d has m a d e salvation secure w h a t e v e r we do. H e r e , the sense of the notion of grace is u n m e d i a t e d . I t becomes a magical operation. It is this magical conception of grace which becomes the deserving object of philosophical criticism. T h e emphasis on grace as G o d ' s free gift is m e a n t to take us a w a y f r o m a self-calculating religion of desert. T o p u t such m a t t e r s as emphatically as possible, the doctrine of predestination says t h a t G o d ' s election to salvation was m a d e 'before the f o u n d a t i o n s of the world were laid'. Yet, d a n g e r s of misreading similar to those we have considered t h r e a t e n these words too. So far f r o m ridding m e n from p r u d e n t i a l considerations, this e m p h a s i s can actually reinforce them. If p r u d e n t i a l considerations a r e coupled with the t h o u g h t that divine r e w a r d s a n d p u n i s h m e n t s have already been d e t e r m i n e d , people m a y grow anxious a b o u t w h e t h e r they are included a m o n g the beneficiaries. Believers begin to search frantically for signs of their election; they w a n t to know w h o is in a n d w h o is out in the sight of G o d . W h a t began as a

mystery degenerates into a p r o b i n g of secrets, a n d , as we saw in the last c h a p t e r , mystery a n d grace come in at the w r o n g place as a result. If we say t h a t the gift of G o d ' s grace has n o t h i n g to do with h u m a n e n d e a v o u r , a n d that all m e n have to do is to recognise w h a t God has done for t h e m , h o w do we avoid a magical conception of grace? This is one of the issues which bothered Pelagius. If there is only a contingent connection between recognising w h a t G o d has done a n d the g r a t i t u d e which is supposed to ensue, the door is opened to some highly e m b a r r a s s i n g conclusions. If a m a n is in prison, then, normally, he will be glad to hear t h a t someone has secured his release. B u t this need not lead to any c h a n g e in his behaviour or any sense of g r a t i t u d e to the person w h o releases him. O n the contrary, the released person m a y take u p the life which led to his i m p r i s o n m e n t a n d regard the one w h o set h i m free as a soft-hearted fool. Pelagius did not think t h a t talk of G o d ' s grace is intelligible without reference to good works. H e did not think such works should be despised. As Flannery O ' C o n n o r observes, M a n i c h e a n type theologies see 'the n a t u r a l world as u n w o r t h y of penetration'. 1 3 But this is t a n t a m o u n t to refusing to m e d i a t e the sense which the notion of grace m a y have. I n saying, mistakenly, t h a t a m a n ' s soul could be saved by his good works, Pelagius was w a n t i n g to avoid confusions not dissimilar to those to which W h i t t a k e r calls our attention. H e w a n t e d to avoid a magical conception of grace or religious experience which is quite cut off f r o m m o r a l conduct. It is for the s a m e reason t h a t Flannery O ' C o n n o r says, ' T o d a y ' s reader, if he believes in grace at all, sees it as something which can be s e p a r a t e d from n a t u r e a n d served to him r a w as I n s t a n t Uplift.' 1 4 So a l t h o u g h their doctrines are diametrically opposed to each other, L u t h e r a n d Pelagius w a n t to avoid magical conceptions of grace u n m e d i a t e d in the detail of the believer's life. In its most extreme form a believer could be said to recognise w h a t God has d o n e for him, b u t be completely indifferent to it, or even to live a life c o n t r a r y to G o d ' s c o m m a n d s . P e r h a p s he could even say with i m p u n i t y , 'If G o d has done all that is necessary already, w h y should I bother?' Clearly, W h i t t a k e r w a n t s to avoid these u n h a p p y conclusions. H e sees the d a n g e r s involved in trying to speak of reliance on works or reliance on grace while ignoring the internal relations between t h e m . H e tries to move in this direction w h e n he says that the doctrine of grace is expressed less misleadingly if we say

' t h a t the grace by which we are able to live at peace with ourselves is given logically, not chronologically, prior to our efforts to a t t a i n it.' 1 5 I n other words, we should try to see how a concept of grace m a y inform moral e n d e a v o u r f r o m the outset. B u t W h i t t a k e r ' s analysis, as we have seen, does not allow h i m to b r i n g out the internal relations which m a y exist between the notions of grace a n d works. I n s t e a d , he lays himself o p e n to the familiar objections t h a t talk of grace often suggests t h a t m o r a l e n d e a v o u r h a s a selfdefeating c h a r a c t e r or is based on enlightened self-interest. T h e r e can be no d o u b t t h a t m a n y advocates of doctrines of grace do talk in this way. T h e r e can be no d o u b t either t h a t the doctrine of grace advocated is often w h a t we have called a magical conception of grace. O n the other h a n d , there are other conceptions of grace which do not fall foul of these objections. Let us consider some examples which b r i n g out the internal relations between grace a n d works. T h e vulnerability of h u m a n beings is a n i m p o r t a n t element in the f o r m a t i o n of the notion of divine grace. W e saw, in t h e last c h a p t e r , how a sense of being at the mercy of G o d ' s will can give rise to a certain w o n d e r , w o n d e r at the miracle of existence. I n such a reaction, the very contingency of events takes on the aspect of a gift — a gift of grace, one m i g h t say. T h e s e reactions a r e not arguments f r o m contingency to G o d . T h a t is why W h i t t a k e r ' s depiction of the reaction will not do; it is too m u c h like an argument: Sheer existence, with all its mysterious givens a n d d i s t u r b i n g contingencies, m u s t have some higher rationale, some end t h a t renders individual existence worthwhile a n d c a p a b l e of fulfilment. T h i s is the t h e m e on which the world's religions play their different variations. T h e point of postulating a higher order in the cosmos is to legitimate the individual's search for a worthwhile end in his own existence. 1 6 H e r e we are back with the view t h a t religious reactions are legitimated by beliefs which precede them. T h e m a n in a w e before the majesty of G o d ' s will in the storm can hardly be characterised as someone w h o postulates a higher order in the cosmos in o r d e r to legitimate his own worthwhileness. H i s reactions are not based on prior beliefs; rather, his beliefs get their sense in the context of these reactions. F u r t h e r m o r e , his awe at the majesty of G o d , so far f r o m establishing his own worthwhileness, shows h i m t h a t

he is n o t h i n g before G o d . H e m a y well r e m e m b e r the m a n w h o p l a n n e d a vast expansion in b a r n building, not knowing t h a t G o d required his soul that very night. If h u m a n beings, like the storm, are seen as in the h a n d s of God, then h u m a n beings too are seen as d e p e n d e n t on grace. T o see m e n as G o d ' s creatures is to deny at the s a m e time t h a t others should play at being G o d with respect to them. I n this way, coming to see people as G o d ' s creatures is inextricably b o u n d u p with one's own conduct. It is no accident t h a t w o n d e r i n g at G o d ' s creation, seeing h u m a n beings as G o d ' s creatures, are closely linked to dying to the self, since m a k i n g the self central would be a denial of the religious sense I a m trying to elucidate. T h e picture of an a c k n o w l e d g e m e n t of G o d ' s grace, completely divorced f r o m any moral e n d e a v o u r is, therefore, a confused picture. It is not confused, however, because the possession of divine grace causally brings a b o u t good works. Neither is it confused because good works are a natural consequence of the a c k n o w l e d g e m e n t of divine grace. R a t h e r , it is because there a r e internal conceptual relations between the a c k n o w l e d g e m e n t of grace a n d m o r a l endeavour. W h e n these internal relations are stressed, we see w h a t is w r o n g in an analysis of a transition from reliance on works to reliance on grace, w h e r e works cease to be a m e a n s of a t t a i n i n g salvation ('Look at w h a t I have done') a n d become the m e a n s by which g r a t i t u d e to G o d is shown ('Look at w h a t he has d o n e ' ) . O n such a view, there is no c h a n g e in the i n s t r u m e n t a l conception of good works a n d grace r e m a i n s something magical, quite i n d e p e n d e n t of them. I n the religious possibility I have elucidated, grace t r a n s f o r m s the very conception of a person's endeavours, not by m a k i n g t h e m the m e a n s of achieving something different f r o m w h a t was achieved before, but by seeing the possibility of the works themselves as the gift of grace. T h i s is w h a t I take Paul to be e m p h a s i s i n g to the Ephesians in those words which are so often the victim of incomplete quotation: 'For by grace are ye saved t h r o u g h faith; a n d that not of yourselves: it is the gift of G o d . Not of works, lest any m a n should boast.' (Here, those w h o w a n t to s e p a r a t e grace from works usually end their q u o t a t i o n , but Paul continues.) 'For we are his w o r k m a n s h i p , created in C h r i s t J e s u s u n t o good works, which G o d h a t h before o r d a i n e d t h a t we should walk in them.' 1 7 Here, there is no issue of bridging a g a p between grace a n d works, since grace informs one's very conception of h u m a n e n d e a v o u r . Such a perspective indeed changes one's whole a t t i t u d e to works, a t t a i n m e n t , failure, praise, blame,

j u d g e m e n t , pity, compassion a n d forgiveness. Weil shows us p a r t of w h a t is involved when she illuminatingly locates Peter's denial of J e s u s , not in the breaking of his promise, but in the m a k i n g of it. 'Denial of Saint Peter. T o say to Christ: " I will never d e n y T h e e " was to deny him already, for it was supposing the source of faithfulness to be in himself a n d not in grace.' 1 8 Peter t h o u g h t t h a t his loyalty, his allegiance, his faith, were entirely within his control, the p r o d u c t of his p u r p o s e f u l endeavours. W h a t J e s u s reveals to him is that even his ability to m a k e the promise is in the h a n d s of God, d e p e n d e n t on grace, on factors over which he has little control. H e n c e , w h e n someone is guilty of denial, as Peter was, the believer's response is, 'But for the grace of G o d , there go I.' T h e opposite response is the sin of pride: ' G o d , I t h a n k thee that I a m not as o t h e r m e n are', which is w h a t Peter was saying in effect in his confident prediction t h a t no m a t t e r who deserted J e s u s , he never would. In this way, his promise to be faithful was already an act of unfaithfulness, a denial of grace. All I have said a b o u t an internal relation between grace a n d works can be spoken of in the way in which W h i t t a k e r speaks of L u t h e r ' s faith. H e says that it 'ultimately rested on the new vista of u n d e r s t a n d i n g which opened u p w h e n he grasped the point of this belief a n d took it to his heart. A n y o t h e r way of " g r o u n d i n g " this belief by d e t a c h i n g its credibility f r o m the role it plays as a principle would have been completely illogical.' 1 9 T h i s insight is not regarded as an achievement or a n o t h e r form of salvation by desert. T h e insight itself is r e g a r d e d by the believer as a work of grace, the work of G o d in him. T h a t is why such a believer would say, with Paul, ' N o t I, but Christ liveth in me.' 2 0 I agree entirely with W h i t t a k e r w h e n he says, 'A doctrine like that of predestination acquires its point by virtue of the role it plays in reorienting the j u d g e m e n t s a believer makes.' 2 1 I a m less h a p p y with w h a t W h i t t a k e r takes to be the central concern of these j u d g e m e n t s , namely, the believer a n d his prospects for happiness. Theologically, I m a y be taken as m a k i n g a plea to e m p h a s i s e G o d ' s electing to save, r a t h e r t h a n G o d saving the elect. If this is done, the place of the self is d e t e r m i n e d as a consequence. T h u s , a higher order is not postulated in o r d e r to legitimise an individual's search for w h a t is worthwhile (Whittaker), b u t , r a t h e r , faced with the m e d i a t e d reality of G o d ' s grace, w h a t is worthwhile for the individual is d e t e r m i n e d thereby. W h y such grace is revealed at all remains, as it m u s t , a necessary mystery. T h i s priority takes more seriously W h i t t a k e r ' s own recognition

that the doctrine of predestination plays a s u p p o r t i n g role to 'the more f u n d a m e n t a l doctrine of divine grace'. 2 2 Despite my plea to e m p h a s i s e G o d ' s electing to save, r a t h e r t h a n G o d saving the elect, I do not w a n t to be taken as issuing theological prescriptions. M y m a i n concern h a s been with the conceptual confusions which result from a failure to m e d i a t e the sense of the notions of grace a n d works; a failure which leads, as we have seen, to a distortion of moral e n d e a v o u r a n d to a magical conception of grace a n d religious experience. It is in this context t h a t a final point has to be m a d e . W h i t t a k e r h a s emphasised, rightly, t h a t we c a n n o t see the point of a religious belief if we divorce it f r o m the role it plays in the religious life. H e goes on to claim, however, t h a t 'one can see how a faithful a d h e r e n c e to such a belief d e p e n d s entirely on a g r a s p of its point'. 2 3 H e r e we part company. Let us a s s u m e t h a t I, philosophically, have succeeded in showing the point of stressing a n internal relation between grace a n d works. If this is all a faithful a d h e r e n c e to belief d e p e n d s on, my exposition, if faithful, a m o u n t s to faithful a d h e r e n c e to the belief. But, surely, W h i t t a k e r would not be h a p p y with this. By ' a d h e r e n c e to belief he clearly m e a n s a d h e r e n c e to it in one's life. T h e e q u a t i o n of such faithful a d h e r e n c e to philosophical or even theological analysis will not do. S o m e t h i n g is missing. F u r t h e r more, we have reason to suppose t h a t W h i t t a k e r , on reflection, would know w h a t is missing, for he gives us the a n s w e r elsewhere in his essay. In describing L u t h e r ' s faith, W h i t t a k e r tells us that it d e p e n d e d , not simply on L u t h e r g r a s p i n g its point, b u t also on his taking it to his heart.24 T h e philosopher w h o strives for some m e a s u r e of clarity concerning the transition f r o m reliance on works to reliance on grace m a y or m a y not m a k e such a transition his own; m a y or m a y not take it to his h e a r t . T o say t h a t reliance on divine grace has a certain conceptual c h a r a c t e r is not to rely on divine grace. T o receive such grace the philosopher would have to confess 'I have arrived at my analysis by the grace of G o d . ' T h a t confession is not m a d e simply in writing his book.

Notes 1. For a philosophical and literary discussion of these protesting voices from within the enclosure together with religious counter-voices see Phillips, No Main Road: Religion in Twentieth Century Literature. 2. J o h n H. Whittaker, Matters of Faith and Matters of Principle, Trinity University Monograph Series in Religion, vol. 6 (Trinity University Press, San Antonio, 1981), pp. 70-1. 3. Ibid., pp. 71-2. 4. Ibid., p. 73. 5. Ibid. 6. Ibid. 7. Ibid., p. 72. 8. See ibid., p. 80. 9. Ibid., p. 88. 10. Ibid., p. 82. 11. O'Connor, 'Novelist and Believer' in Mystery and Manners, p. 166. 12. Whittaker, Matters of Faith and Matters of Principle, p. 73. 13. O'Connor, 'Novelist and Believer' in Mystery and Manners, p. 163. 14. Ibid., p. 165. 15. Whittaker, Matters of Faith and Matters of Principle, p. 85. 16. Ibid., p. 60. 17. Eph. 2:8-10. 18. Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace, trans. Emma Craufurd, introd. Gustave Thibon (Routledge and Kegan Paul, London, 1947), p. 22. 19. Whittaker, Matters of Faith and Matters of Principle, p. 82. 20. Gal. 2:20. 21. Whittaker, Matters of Faith and Matters of Principle, pp. 85-6. 22. Ibid., p. 84. 23. Ibid., p. 70. 24. See ibid., p. 82.

22

Religious Concepts: Misunderstanding and Lack of Understanding

W e began the book by referring to a scandal in c o n t e m p o r a r y philosophy of religion, namely, the a s s u m p t i o n t h a t an acceptable account of religious belief can only be given within the perspective of epistemological foundationalism. W e saw that such a perspective distorted the g r a m m a r of religious belief. O n the other h a n d , Reformed epistemology m a d e the basic propositions of religion seem isolated f r o m the contexts in which they have their life. W e saw, in other ways, how h e r m e n e u t i c s , the sociology of knowledge, a n d even a t t e m p t s at giving theology its proper status, m a y all create difficulties for giving perspicuous representations of religious belief. In my criticisms, I have tried to provide conceptual r e m i n d e r s of the kind of life religious beliefs m a y have. But I have been writing philosophy of religion long e n o u g h to know that the provision of these conceptual reminders is not u n p r o b l e m a t i c . A philosopher m u s t not be over-confident a n d take his a u d i e n c e for g r a n t e d . W h y is it i m p o r t a n t to recognise this? T h e first thing to recognise is t h a t in c o n t e m p o r a r y philosophy there is an e n o r m o u s confidence a b o u t the analysis of religious belief, a confidence t h a t the analysis shows such beliefs to be meaningless. W e have already noted N o r m a n M a l c o l m ' s observation t h a t religious belief is regarded in W e s t e r n a c a d e m i c philosophy with condescension or even contempt. 1 R e s p o n d i n g to these r e m a r k s , K a i Nielsen says, Surely the response of intellectuals to religion complex a n d varied than that, b u t there is enough this exaggeration a n d in M a l c o l m ' s f u r t h e r r e m a r k a n d large religion is to university people an alien

is more t r u t h in ' t h a t by form of

life' to m a k e it an i m p o r t a n t sociological d a t u m to keep before our minds w h e n we consider religion. A religious h u m a n being, a person w h o prays a n d goes to c h u r c h a n d all that, is something of an a n o m a l y a m o n g present d a y W e s t e r n intellectuals a n d particularly a m o n g philosophers. T h a t f o r m of life does seem very alien to m a n y of us. 2 In a t t e m p t i n g to provide conceptual reminders of the g r a m m a r of religious belief, we have to realise t h a t we are faced by Nielsen's ' i m p o r t a n t sociological d a t u m ' . T h e situation we have arrived at, in which religious belief has come to be alien to m a n y , is a situation with a history. Religious beliefs, as we noted at the outset of the book, are said to have failed the tests of rationality. Religious belief is seen as an a b e r r a t i o n of the h u m a n m i n d f r o m which e n l i g h t e n m e n t should rescue us. H u m e , having shown how a n a r g u m e n t f r o m world to G o d is logically flawed, b e q u e a t h e d to the nineteenth a n d twentieth centuries the task of explaining how people, despite the e n l i g h t e n m e n t at h a n d , can continue to believe w h a t is irrational. Philosophy, aided by anthropology a n d psychoanalysis, was to be the angel of light which was to b r i n g e n l i g h t e n m e n t to the dark recesses of the h u m a n m i n d . T h e confident tone of the intellectual p a r t n e r s h i p is found in the following r e m a r k s by E.B. Tylor: T o the p r o m o t e r s of w h a t is sound a n d reformers of w h a t is faulty in m o d e r n culture, e t h n o g r a p h y has d o u b l e help to give. T o impress m e n ' s m i n d s with a doctrine of development will lead t h e m in all h o n o u r to their ancestors to continue the progressive work of p a s t ages, to continue it the more vigorously because light has increased in the world, a n d where b a r b a r i c hordes groped blindly, cultured m e n can often move o n w a r d with clear view. 3 T h e cultured, m o d e r n m a n T y l o r refers to is described by F l a n n e r y O ' C o n n o r as one who recognises spirit in himself but who fails to recognise a being outside himself w h o m he can adore as C r e a t o r a n d Lord; consequently he has become his own u l t i m a t e concern. H e says with S w i n b u r n e , 'Glory to m a n in the highest, for he is the master of things,' or with Steinbeck, ' I n the end was

the word a n d the word was with m a n . ' For him, m a n has his own n a t u r a l spirit of courage a n d dignity a n d pride a n d m u s t consider it a point of h o n o u r to be satisfied with this. 4 F r e u d too was anxious to show t h a t courage, dignity a n d pride are not i n c o m p a t i b l e with seeing t h r o u g h the other-worldly promises of religion: A n d , as for the great necessities of Fate, against which there is no help, they will learn to e n d u r e with resignation. O f w h a t use to t h e m is the mirage of wide acres in the m o o n , whose harvest no one has ever yet seen? As honest smallholders on this earth they will know how to cultivate their plot in such a way t h a t it s u p p o r t s t h e m . 3 T h e y learn to e n d u r e with resignation because they have c o m e to realise, as primitive m a n did not, t h a t the forces of n a t u r e to which they are subject, winds a n d rains, come w h e n they do, a n d t h a t no a m o u n t of magic will m a k e any difference. W h e n m a n dispenses with such magical rites as rain dances, he is coming of age, seeing t h a t there is no causal connection between the d a n c e s a n d the coming of the rain. Despite the fact that m a n y Writers, T y l o r a n d F r e u d included, insisted t h a t primitive people could not be b l a m e d for thinking as they did, inevitably it was h a r d to keep out a congratulatory element f r o m the claim t h a t they were speaking f r o m an intellectually superior v a n t a g e point in h u m a n development. T h i s intellectual superiority, however, has been challenged f r o m m a n y directions. It never was very plausible, since the primitives were skilled h u n t e r s , farmers, metal-workers. H a d they been as i g n o r a n t of causal connections as some said they were, they could never have survived. O n the other h a n d , alongside their o r d i n a r y purposive activities they p e r f o r m rituals. H o w are the rituals related to the other activities? Wittgenstein m a d e the telling observation t h a t rain dances were p e r f o r m e d w h e n the rains were d u e anyway. 6 T h e d a n c e did not cause the rains to come; it celebrated their coming. W h e n we see the dances as p a r t of a celebratory activity, we no longer speak of confusion. Wittgenstein also gives the following examples: ' T o w a r d s m o r n i n g , w h e n the sun is a b o u t to rise, people celebrate rites of the coming of day, but not at night, for then they simply b u r n lamps.' 7 Again: ' T h e same savage who, a p p a r e n t l y in order to kill his enemy, sticks

his knife through a picture of h i m , really does build his h u t of wood a n d cuts his arrow with skill a n d not in effigy.' 8 By waiting on the rituals, conceptual clarity rescues us f r o m a condescending misunderstanding. Yet, c o n t e m p o r a r y philosophers m a y well see these conclusions as p r e m a t u r e . Because it is quite right to say, as Wittgenstein does, that the primitives a r e not guilty of ignorance of causal connections, it does not follow t h a t their ritualistic practices c a n n o t be criticised. T h e y can be criticised, it is said, because w h a t the rituals exhibit are not causal mistakes, b u t conceptual confusions. T h i s view h a s been argued by J o h n Cook: Wittgenstein was going beyond the mere rejection of F r a z e r ' s theory. H e was offering a theory of his own, a theory to the effect t h a t the primitive magician in the p e r f o r m a n c e of his rites no m o r e intends to help his crops flourish or to h a r m his enemy t h a n we intend to b r i n g a b o u t some effect by kissing the picture of a loved one. But merely finding good reason for rejecting F r a z e r ' s theory does not give us a reason for e m b r a c i n g this new theory of Wittgenstein's — unless, of course, we a s s u m e t h a t these are the only possibilities f r o m which to choose. Wittgenstein, p e r h a p s , t h o u g h t t h a t they were the only alternatives a n d that his own positive theory could therefore be a d e q u a t e l y s u p p o r t e d by simply finding good reason to dismiss Frazer's. 9 But does Wittgenstein e m b r a c e such a theory? O n the contrary he is opposed to a priori theorising a n d in fact recognises the very possibility Cook claims he has missed, namely, t h a t the primitives m a y be guilty, not of mistakes a b o u t causality, but of d e e p conceptual confusions. 1 0 For example, Wittgenstein t h o u g h t the ritual of scapegoat in Leviticus a j a r r i n g symbolism. T h e scapegoat is said to carry the sins of the people with it into the wilderness. Here, as R u s h Rhees says, ' " c a r r y " seems to m e a n w h a t it does in " T h e goat carries on his back the basket in which we p u t our firewood"; a n d yet it cannot m e a n that.' 1 1 But we would not say a mistake is m a d e in the ritual. W e would say it is confused. Wittgenstein concludes, ' T h e scapegoat on which sins a r e laid a n d which goes out into the wilderness with them, is a false picture, like all the false pictures of philosophy. Philosophy m i g h t be said to purify thought f r o m a misleading mythology.' 1 2 T h e difference between mistakes a n d confusions in this context

m a y be b r o u g h t out by the following example. A person w h o w a n t s to poison a n o t h e r mistakenly b u y s a harmless potion. His belief t h a t the potion is h a r m f u l is false, b u t it might have been true. B u t can we say the same w h e n I stick pins in a picture of someone, believing it will h a r m him? C a n we say t h a t sticking pins in the picture might have been effective, b u t in fact is not? O f course not. W e have not the slightest idea of w h a t it could m e a n to say that sticking pins in the picture could h a r m someone else. W h a t we have is not a false, but a meaningless belief, a n d yet people believe it. N o n e of this should surprise us, since we are by no m e a n s i m m u n e from these confusions ourselves. A l t h o u g h we are not ignorant of causal connections, nevertheless, our superstitions flourish alongside them. O n c e we identify the confusion, the next step is to see how it c a m e a b o u t . H e r e are some suggestions from J o h n Beattie's influential book on social anthropology: I a m not saying t h a t ritual a n d magical activities are not c o m m o n l y t h o u g h t to be causally efficacious; they certainly are. But they are expressive as well as being i n s t r u m e n t a l , a n d it is this t h a t distinguishes t h e m f r o m strictly empirical, i n s t r u m e n t a l activity. I n d e e d often they are believed to be i n s t r u m e n t a l j u s t because they are expressive; m a n y people think t h a t the word, the logos, h a s its own special power. O f t e n it is believed that to say or even to think something solemnly a n d emphatically e n o u g h is s o m e h o w to m a k e it more likely to h a p p e n . Even m e m b e r s of m o d e r n societies m a y be frightened or a s h a m e d w h e n they become conscious of h i d d e n wishes for the d e a t h or i n j u r y of someone they dislike, and m a y feel guilty w h e n the object of their a n t i p a t h y is r u n over by a bus. Belief in the power of words, t h o u g h t s a n d symbols is by no m e a n s the monopoly of simpler peoples. 1 3 T h e confusion involved here is not like a mistake about anything; a b o u t causal connections, for example. W h a t we have is a confusion which springs f r o m a m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g of the logic of our language, a m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g which has a d e e p hold on us. T h e s e m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s give rise to metaphysics. Wittgenstein began an earlier version of his r e m a r k s on Frazer by saying, 'I think now t h a t the right thing would be to s t a r t my book with r e m a r k s on metaphysics as a kind of magic.' 1 4

T h e formality of rituals m a r k s t h e m off from the o r d i n a r y discourse of daily affairs. O n the other h a n d , there is an affinity between the words a n d gestures used in ritual a n d those words a n d gestures used elsewhere. For example, I m a y express the wish t h a t someone should come to m e by beckoning or calling out to him. W h e n he comes, I m a y feel this is d u e to some i n h e r e n t power in the beckoning or calling; almost as if a power accompanies the gesture or words. W h e n the beckoning by gesture or word expresses a wish in the ritual, we m a y then feel t h a t since the power is in the beckoning, the condition of fulfilling the wish is given in the inherent power of the beckoning, a l t h o u g h the persons or spirits beckoned are absent. I n this context, the m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s involved could be called a kind of magical t r e a t m e n t of words — belief in the power of words. 1 5 So far f r o m w a n t i n g to defend magical or religious rituals against all charges of confusion, as Cook thinks, Wittgenstein is recognising possibilities — a n d , I emphasise, possibilities — of confusion in the rituals, confusion which m a y still go d e e p with us. 1 6 T h e spirit in which these possibilities a r e noted by Wittgenstein is very different, however, f r o m the a t t i t u d e to religion we find a m o n g most c o n t e m p o r a r y philosophers. T h e a priorism is not his, but theirs, since they w a n t to say t h a t all forms of magic a n d religion are confused. N o t content with saying t h a t conceptual confusion may be present, they say t h a t they are necessarily present. H o w does this come about? E . E . EvansP r i t c h a r d said of the anthropologist: As I u n d e r s t a n d the m a t t e r , there is no possibility of his knowing w h e t h e r the spiritual beings of primitive religions or of any others have a n y existence or not, a n d since this is the case he c a n n o t take the question into consideration. T h e beliefs are for him sociological facts, not theological facts, a n d his sole concern is with their relation to each other a n d to other social facts ... T h e validity of the belief lies in the d o m a i n of w h a t m a y be broadly designated the philosophy of religion. 1 7 For most c o n t e m p o r a r y philosophers, however, the reference to philosophy simply postpones the issue. Philosophy shows t h a t religion necessarily involves metaphysics. But metaphysics, it is a r g u e d , is not a theory about anything. O n the c o n t r a r y it is itself the p r o d u c t of d e e p confusions a b o u t the logic of our language.

Cook points out t h a t E v a n s - P r i t c h a r d argues t h a t because gods, ancestral spirits, e t c , 'if they exist, have a m o d e of being t h a t is not open to empirical investigation ... anthropologists m u s t leave their existence an open question'. Cook replies: T h i s seems like an eminently sensible view to take — so long as it assumed that religious beliefs are either true or false, i.e. t h a t either there are or there are not ancestral spirits w h o deserve h u m a n consideration, that either reincarnation occurs or it does not occur, etc. Yet this is not how philosophers generally see the m a t t e r . T a k e the m a t t e r of disembodied existence after d e a t h . Philosophers n o w a d a y s do not regard this as a n obviously possible state of affairs which m a y or m a y not occur. O n the contrary, viewed philosophically the issue is w h e t h e r this idea makes any sense at all, a n d at least most philosophers think it has been shown that the idea does not m a k e sense. E x t r a p o l a t i n g f r o m this example, then, w h a t I a m suggesting is that if we think carefully a b o u t gods a n d spirits a n d so on, we m a y find t h a t these ideas are in some way confused, unintelligible. If they are, then of course there is no possibility t h a t gods a n d spirits exist. 18 Notice that Cook is able to speak confidently of 'how philosophers generally see the m a t t e r ' , 'philosophers n o w a d a y s ' , a n d of w h a t 'at least most philosophers think'. I said t h a t within the practice of the philosophy of religion, animistic modes of a r g u m e n t prevail; religious beliefs are true or false, reasonable or u n r e a s o n a b l e hypotheses. W h a t has to be said, however, is t h a t the m a j o r i t y of philosophers pay little, if any, attention to religious beliefs, believing t h a t the conceptual confusions they necessarily exhibit h a v e been exposed long ago. T h e first reason, then, why a philosopher w h o seeks to give perspicuous representations c a n n o t take his audience for g r a n t e d is the e n o r m o u s confidence of m a n y philosophers in thinking t h a t the meaninglessness of religious belief has been a m p l y d e m o n s t r a t e d . Second, however, the difficulty of finding a receptive audience h a s to do with the price m a n y philosophers would have to p a y to have their confidence shaken. I believe this price has m u c h to d o with the anger a n d r e s e n t m e n t which has greeted the conceptual reminders which Wittgenstein a n d others have presented; an anger a n d r e s e n t m e n t rare, even in philosophy.

In o r d e r to trace some of the sources of this anger, a n d the kind of c h a n g e which would have to take place in the philosophers I have in m i n d were the conceptual r e m i n d e r s to be accepted, I shall c o m p a r e the philosophical task of providing these r e m i n d e r s with the task of providing religious r e m i n d e r s in literature. Like the philosopher of religion, F l a n n e r y O ' C o n n o r , as a Catholic writer, faced the p r o b l e m of how to convey a religious perspective in literature in a pervasively secular A m e r i c a n culture. J u s t as m a n y philosophers regard religious belief as a cultural divergence needing rational e n l i g h t e n m e n t , so m a n y in the N o r t h in the 1960s regarded the South with its racial problems a n d evangelical religion as being in the grip of irrationality. R o b e r t Coles observed of F l a n n e r y O ' C o n n o r a n d her South: Surely neither she, nor other Georgia writers, nor the black r u r a l field h a n d s of the state, have ever h a d m u c h say in the m a t t e r of w h a t in this nation is a n d is not considered ' a p p r o p r i a t e , ' 'seemly,' 'desirable,' let alone 'grotesque.' T h e s t a n d a r d s come f r o m elsewhere. 1 9 Yet, there were voices raised in Georgia which refused to accept the N o r t h ' s version of w h a t was h a p p e n i n g . H e r e is one such voice, which accuses the N o r t h e r n critics of lacking the very virtues in terms of which they claimed to be m a k i n g their criticisms. T h e speaker insists t h a t the distinction between N o r t h a n d South was not a distinction between purity a n d impurity: You think the coloured people d o n ' t know w h o ' s here to stay, a n d w h o ' s j u s t passing t h r o u g h — looking for a cause ... to find people to look d o w n on, a n d people w h o will look u p to t h e m as if each a n d every one of t h e m was J e s u s C h r i s t Himself. So they say to each other: let's go South a n d have us a d a m n good time d o w n there, with all those d u m b crackers. T h e r e will come a d a y w h e n the shoe will be on the other foot, a n d all the trouble we have d o w n here w o n ' t look so b a d , w h e n you see w h a t ' s going on u p there. A n d w h e n that day comes, I'll promise you something: no one f r o m Georgia is going to go u p there, pointing his finger a t people, a n d telling t h e m t h e y ' r e no good, a n d they're ignorant, a n d they have to c h a n g e by federal law, or else. I t ' s not our way, d o w n here, to go poking into the business of others, so we can h a v e our fun. If these people would

take themselves to church, other t h a n to organize integration rallies, while they're d o w n here staying a m o n g us, they might learn something — a b o u t pride, the worst sin of all. But they'd l a u g h if I went a n d told t h e m t h a t — because I d i d n ' t go to college. 20 W e can see why the r e m i n d e r a b o u t pride f r o m the South would be h a r d to accept. T o accept it would be to a d m i t to the very sin one was accusing others of so confidently. F l a n n e r y O ' C o n n o r ' s r e m i n d e r s in her stories had a similar effect. T h e y o u t r a g e d her critics because they took the form of using the secularist's perspective as a testimony to the reality of the religion it attacked. She realised t h a t in a pervasively secular culture she could not give her r e m i n d e r s in a straightforward way. F l a n n e r y O ' C o n n o r said t h a t she, 'instead of reflecting the image at the h e a r t of things ... has only reflected our broken condition a n d , through it, the face of the devil we are possessed by. T h i s is a modest achievement, but p e r h a p s a necessary one.' 2 1 In the Georgian censure of N o r t h e r n attitudes, the sting came, as we saw, in the location of pride a n d condescension in the very a t t i t u d e s which prided themselves on being those of concern a n d fellow-feeling. So in Flannery O ' C o n n o r ' s short stories, the very age which prides itself on f r e e d o m f r o m superstitions such as belief in the devil, is accused of d e m o n possession. Flannery O ' C o n n o r observes, ' P r o b a b l y the devil plays the greatest role in the p r o d u c t i o n of t h a t fiction f r o m which he himself is a b s e n t as an actor.' 2 2 T h e s e considerations are e m b o d i e d in F l a n n e r y O ' C o n n o r ' s short story, ' T h e L a m e Shall E n t e r First'. In the story, S h e p p a r d , a p a r t - t i m e social worker, befriends a lame d e l i n q u e n t called J o h n s o n . H e c o m p a r e s his own son, N o r t o n , u n f a v o u r a b l y with him. N o r t o n ' s m o t h e r has died, b u t S h e p p a r d believes his son's grief is excessive, a n d t h a t instead of m o p i n g he should build for the f u t u r e . S h e p p a r d sees more spirit in the d e l i n q u e n t , despite all his d i s a d v a n t a g e s . J o h n s o n is b r o u g h t into the house. S h e p p a r d is appalled to find t h a t the d e l i n q u e n t attributes his deviance to the fact t h a t he is in the Devil's power. H e promises to explain his devil to him. J o h n s o n is b o u g h t a telescope to encourage his interest in a s t r o n o m y . Yet, w h e n J o h n s o n is alone with N o r t o n he reveals his c o n t e m p t for the attention of the social worker, ' " G o d , kid," J o h n s o n said in a cracked voice, " h o w do you s t a n d it?" His face was stiff with outrage. " H e thinks he's J e s u s C h r i s t . " ' 2 3 H e feeds the y o u n g

son with c r u d e pictures of h e a v e n a n d hell. H e tells him t h a t if his m o t h e r was a good w o m a n she is in heaven, b u t t h a t he would have to die to reach her. N o r t o n is convinced t h a t t h r o u g h the telescope he can see his m o t h e r waving at him. S h e p p a r d tells h i m t h a t all he can see are star clusters, but to no avail. T h e story ends with S h e p p a r d ' s discovery t h a t the d e l i n q u e n t h a s misled h i m all along; has used his trust as a cover for c o m m i t t i n g f u r t h e r crimes. J o h n s o n is led a w a y c o m p o u n d i n g lies a n d it is at this point t h a t revelation comes to S h e p p a r d : 'I have n o t h i n g to r e p r o a c h myself with,' he began again. 'I did more for h i m t h a t I did for my own child.' H e h e a r d his voice as if it were the voice of his accuser. H e repeated the sentence silently. Slowly his face d r a i n e d of colour. It b e c a m e almost grey b e n e a t h the white halo of his hair. T h e sentence echoed in his m i n d , each syllable like a dull blow ... H e h a d stuffed his own emptiness with good works like a glutton. H e h a d ignored his own child to feed his vision of himself. H e saw the clear-eyed Devil, the s o u n d e r of hearts, leering at h i m f r o m the eyes of J o h n s o n . . . 2 4 H e rushes back to his son, to ask for his forgiveness, to tell him he loved him. H e finds him in the attic: ' T h e tripod h a d fallen a n d the telescope lay on the floor. A few feet over it, the child h u n g in the j u n g l e of shadows, j u s t below the b e a m f r o m which he h a d l a u n c h e d his flight into space.' 2 5 T h e social worker h a d promised to explain away J o h n s o n ' s devil. Flannery O ' C o n n o r ' s r e m i n d e r shows how, from a religious perspective, the social worker's confidence in his e x p l a n a t o r y categories is an aspect of the Devil's victory. J o h n s o n w a n t e d to be c a u g h t by the police. W h e n asked w h y he replies, referring to the social worker, ' T o show u p t h a t big tin Jesus... H e thinks he's G o d . I ' d r a t h e r be in the r e f o r m a t o r y t h a n in his house. I ' d r a t h e r be in the pen! T h e Devil h a s h i m in his power.' 2 6 T h e irony is that the social worker is seen as possessed by the very Devil he set out to explain away. Philosophers m a y call a t t e n t i o n to the kind of criticism f r o m Georgia I quoted or to a story f r o m F l a n n e r y O ' C o n n o r , as I have done, in order to show t h a t there a r e perspectives f r o m which m a t t e r s can be seen in ways which the secular rationalist c a n n o t account for. While the secularist m a y not e m b r a c e these

perspectives, he c a n n o t explain t h e m away, as he thinks, in terms of their irrationality. Yet, t h a t is not my m a i n reason for using these examples. I have used t h e m to show h o w the moral criticism a n d Flannery O ' C o n n o r ' s story, in their different ways, accuse certain attitudes of possessing a c h a r a c t e r they prided themselves on being free of. T h i s is why both caused so m u c h anger a n d controversy. It is in this respect t h a t they throw light on the earlier question we posed: why should the r e m i n d e r s of the philosopher of religion cause so m u c h agitation a m o n g those w h o deny t h a t religious beliefs can m e a n anything? Is it not because they too, if accepted, would involve the philosophical sceptic in recognising t h a t he was possessed by t h a t very thing he prided himself on being free of ? While we d o not object to saying t h a t we a r e blind to science, we do object to saying t h a t we are blind to religion. W h y ? W e m u s t r e m e m b e r t h a t for m a n y philosophy is supposed to be an angel of light ministering to the darkness of superstition. But in being r e m i n d e d of the c h a r a c t e r of certain religious beliefs, philosophers are being asked to accept t h a t they m a y be in the grip of the very superstition they take themselves to be attacking. Consider the following gloss given by T y l o r on the ritual a m o n g the Seminoles of Florida of holding a n e w b o r n infant over a m o t h e r ' s face to receive her p a r t i n g b r e a t h if she was dying after childbirth. Speaking of the notion of the soul involved in the ritual he says,

It is a thin u n s u b s t a n t i a l h u m a n image, in its n a t u r e a sort of v a p o u r , film or shadow; the cause of life a n d t h o u g h t in the individual it animates; i n d e p e n d e n t l y possessing the personal consciousness a n d volition of its corporeal owner, past or present; capable of leaving the body far behind to flash swiftly f r o m place to place; mostly i m p a l p a b l e a n d invisible, yet also manifesting physical power, a n d especially a p p e a r i n g to m a n waking or asleep as a p h a n t a s m s e p a r a t e from the body of which it bears the likeness; able to enter into, possess, a n d act in the bodies of other m e n , of animals, a n d even of things. 2 7 C o m m e n t i n g on T y l o r ' s conception of the soul I said: Tylor thinks that the m e a n i n g of his examples a r e unequivocal a n d t h a t it is a c c o u n t e d for in his analysis. As a m a t t e r of fact, his analysis is more influenced by a

philosophical dualism concerning soul a n d body t h a n by the examples u n d e r consideration ... W h a t T y l o r fails to take account of is the significance these gestures have in the relationship between a dying m o t h e r a n d the child she is giving birth to ... A m o t h e r has given her life for her child a n d this is expressed in the ritual by the child receiving her p a r t i n g b r e a t h . W h a t more needs to be said? ... these acts are not based on hypotheses or opinions concerning strange invisible substances which, by mysterious m e a n s , a r e transferred from one person to another. O n the contrary, the gestures are expressions of something. W h a t they express can be indicated in the ways we have j u s t noted. Ironically, it is Tylor, the rational critic, w h o is in the grip of the very conception of the soul he sets out to criticise. It is precisely because for him there would have to be a strange s u b s t a n c e called the soul in order for the notion to have a n y m e a n i n g t h a t he finds the examples he discusses unintelligible. It is his own positivistic conception of the soul which prevents him f r o m a p p r e c i a t i n g w h a t the notion m a y m e a n in its 28 n a t u r a l setting. W e can a p p r e c i a t e why a philosopher would find it h a r d to accept these criticisms. H e is accused of being in the grip of the very superstition he prides himself on exposing. In the s a m e w a y it is a shock to hear Wittgenstein saying, 'Frazer is m u c h m o r e savage t h a n most of his savages, for these savages will not be so far f r o m any u n d e r s t a n d i n g of spiritual m a t t e r s as an E n g l i s h m a n of the twentieth century. His explanation of the primitive observances are m u c h c r u d e r t h a n the sense of the observances themselves.' 2 9 T h e words are a shock because, once again, the rational e n q u i r e r is said to be possessed by the very savagery a n d crudity he claims to be exposing. Little wonder, then, t h a t certain philosophical reminders have aroused controversy a m o n g philosophical critics, for in accepting the r e m i n d e r s it is as t h o u g h they were accepting a philosophical version of M a t t h e w ' s a d m o n i t i o n , 'If therefore the light t h a t is in thee be darkness, how great is t h a t darkness!', 3 0 which m i g h t be rendered, 'If therefore your very conception of rationality is confused, how great is the confusion!' Yet, having noted two reasons w h y a philosopher of religion c a n n o t take his audience for g r a n t e d , namely, the pervasive confidence a m o n g philosophers t h a t they have d e m o n s t r a t e d t h e

meaninglessness of religious belief, a n d the price they would have to pay if t h a t confidence is shaken, o u r story is not quite over. T h e r e are other features of any audience which a philosopher of religion addresses which m u s t be taken into account. In a t t e m p t i n g to give perspicuous representations of religious belief I a m asking philosophers to reopen a road on which they have p u t a 'no t h r o u g h r o a d ' sign. I h a v e said that their irritation at this will be c o m p o u n d e d by the fact t h a t they a r e not being told t h a t they have not investigated the road on which they have chosen to travel thoroughly enough. R a t h e r , they are told t h a t they should not have turned d o w n t h a t road in the first place. Yet the irritation m a y go deeper. Philosophers m a y not a p p r e c i a t e the force of conceptual reminders presented to them. T h i s would, then, be not a m a t t e r of m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g , but of failure to understand. T h i s is a feature which will be present in any audience which is u n s y m p a t h e t i c to religious belief. For philosophers to accept this possibility, would be to recognise not simply that they have t u r n e d d o w n a wrong road, b u t t h a t there is a r o a d , a flourishing n e i g h b o u r h o o d even, which they know little a b o u t . W e c a n n o t take for g r a n t e d that that ignorance can be rectified in all cases, a l t h o u g h it is not for us to say t h a t it is impossible in any given case. T h i s possibility leads to the third a n d fourth reasons w h y a philosopher of religion c a n n o t take his audience for g r a n t e d . T h e third reason has to do with t h e c h a r a c t e r of the actual audience being addressed today. F l a n n e r y O ' C o n n o r describes a n audience with which the philosopher is also faced: ' M y audience are the people w h o think G o d is d e a d . At least these are the people I a m conscious of writing for.' 3 1 She describes the difficulties with which she is faced as follows: I d o n ' t believe t h a t our present society is one whose basic beliefs a r e religious, except in the South. 3 2 In any case, you c a n ' t have effective allegory in times w h e n people are swept this way a n d t h a t by m o m e n t a r y convictions, because everyone will read it differently. Y o u c a n ' t indicate moral values w h e n morality changes with w h a t is being done, because there is no accepted basis of j u d g e m e n t . 3 3 W h a t did she think she h a d to do as a result? T h e novelist with C h r i s t i a n concerns will find in m o d e r n

life distortions which are r e p u g n a n t to him, a n d his p r o b l e m will be to m a k e these a p p e a r as distortions to an audience which is used to seeing t h e m as n a t u r a l ; a n d he m a y well be forced to take ever more violent m e a n s to get his vision across to his hostile audience. W h e n you can a s s u m e t h a t your audience holds the s a m e beliefs as you do, you can relax a little a n d use more n o r m a l m e a n s of talking to it; w h e n you have to a s s u m e t h a t it does not then you have to m a k e your vision a p p a r e n t by shock — to the h a r d of h e a r i n g you shout, a n d for the almost-blind you d r a w large a n d startling figures.34 But she was u n d e r no illusions a b o u t the failure rate a m o n g her audience even w h e n she employed such distortions. Critics accused her of wallowing in the grotesque. Yet her use of distortion is like K a f k a ' s . She says of his Metamorphosis, 'a story a b o u t a m a n w h o wakes u p one m o r n i n g to find t h a t he has t u r n e d into a cockroach overnight, while not discarding his h u m a n n a t u r e ... T h e t r u t h is not distorted here, b u t r a t h e r , a certain distortion is used to get at the t r u t h . ' 3 5 B u t m a n y critics failed to see w h a t kind of t r u t h s she was talking a b o u t . Looking at w h a t they h a d said a b o u t one of her stories concerning the action of grace in h u m a n life she responded, ' T h e story h a s been called grotesque, b u t I prefer to call it literal.' 3 6 At this point, a comparison can be m a d e with similar critical responses to w h a t I have e n d e a v o u r e d to say in the philosophy of religion. M y critics w a n t to face m e with the following choice: either the word ' G o d ' refers to a fact or it is a m e t a p h o r i c a l use of language. T w o of my critics, J . L . M a c k i e a n d T . A . Roberts, recognise that, on the one h a n d , I d e n y t h a t the word ' G o d ' refers to an object, a n d that, on the other h a n d , I deny t h a t ' G o d ' is a m e t a p h o r i c a l use of language. Given the exclusive choice with which they think I a m faced, it is little w o n d e r that neither M a c k i e nor Roberts can m a k e m u c h of my positive r e m a r k s concerning the word ' G o d ' . O f course, w h a t we need to do is to reject the simple choice which M a c k i e a n d R o b e r t s wish to impose on us. I n The Concept of Prayer, Faith and Philosophical Enquiry, a n d Death and Immortality I gave m a n y examples of the use of the word ' G o d ' . M a c k i e a n d Roberts do not consider these, but confine themselves to Religion Without Explanation. M o r e particularly, they c o n c e n t r a t e on the belief t h a t G o d watches over us all the time a n d t h a t there is a Last J u d g e m e n t at the end of time. M a c k i e a n d R o b e r t s w a n t

to confront us with the s a m e exclusive choice once again: either the l a n g u a g e has literal m e a n i n g , one which refers to objects, facts, or the language is m e t a p h o r i c a l . I h a d said of belief in the Last J u d g e m e n t : O n e is t a u g h t a b o u t a d a y of j u d g e m e n t , not as j u s t o n e more m a t t e r of fact which is to occur in the future. O n e is told t h a t it is necessary, unavoidable, something t h a t confronts us all ... T h i s is not a version of the belief t h a t you will be c a u g h t out in the end. O n the contrary, it gets its force f r o m the conviction t h a t one is known for w h a t o n e is all the time ... T h e word ' G o d ' has its sense in this context f r o m this conviction of a necessary scrutiny of love a n d goodness, a scrutiny unlike t h a t of a n y h u m a n agency since any idea ofits being mistaken or misinformed is ruled out. 3 7 Mackie responds to these r e m a r k s as follows: T h i s s o u n d s impressive, b u t w h a t exactly is Phillips saying? P e r h a p s the talk a b o u t an u l t i m a t e j u d g e m e n t should be taken as a m e t a p h o r which represents r a t h e r a continuous scrutiny. But if one is known continuously for w h a t one is, one m u s t be so known by someone or something. If it is not known by any (other) h u m a n agency, it m u s t be either oneself or some s u p e r n a t u r a l being. If Phillips m e a n s t h a t the content of the conviction is literally true, then he m u s t after all defend the literal, objective, existence of a god or something like a god. If instead he m e a n s t h a t w h a t one is k n o w n by is oneself, or a p a r t of oneself, then his view is substantially identical with (those w h o hold) t h a t religious s t a t e m e n t s represent a n d s u p p o r t m o r a l sentiments a n d resolves, but they are only metaphorically true. 3 8 Roberts h a s great a d m i r a t i o n for M a c k i e ' s response a n d echoes it in his own remarks: If a theologian says that his belief is literally true, then Phillips responds by saying t h a t he has fallen into superstition in believing that an assertion like ' G o d exists' is a factual assertion. If a philosopher (for example, Braithwaite) says t h a t religious assertions a r e not literally true a n d t h a t their function is to express a m o r a l conviction

along with a resolution to live a certain kind of life, then Phillips says 'he has reduced religion to something which lacks some of the f u n d a m e n t a l characteristics of religious beliefs'. T o q u o t e Mackie's words, 'Phillips's talk a b o u t a different g r a m m a r of " t r u t h " is a vain a t t e m p t to evade this simple b u t inescapable d i l e m m a . ' T h e d i l e m m a Phillips tries to avoid is this: Either religious assertions are factually true or they are not; if they are not factually true, then they a r e not true except in some m e t a p h o r i c a l sense. 3 9 In r e a d i n g M a c k i e a n d Roberts, the reader m a y be forgiven for gaining the impression t h a t I h a v e failed to recognise or sought to avoid the d i l e m m a with which they say I a m confronted. As a m a t t e r of fact I discuss the issue q u i t e explicitly in relation to Braithwaite's views: T h e f u n d a m e n t a l confusion in Braithwaite's a r g u m e n t can be found in the choice with which he takes himself to be confronted. If we take the religious belief in a last j u d g e m e n t as our example, Braithwaite thinks t h a t it m u s t either be construed as a n empirical proposition, such t h a t believing in it is to predict t h a t an event of a certain kind is going to take place some time in the f u t u r e , or the story of a last j u d g e m e n t m u s t be seen as a psychological aid to m o r a l endeavour, the question of w h e t h e r one believes in the t r u t h of the story being u n i m p o r t a n t . 4 0 Is not this, word for word, m o r e or less, the ' d i l e m m a ' which M a c k i e a n d Roberts wish to b r i n g to m y attention? T h e y share Braithwaite's confusion in thinking t h a t the d i l e m m a m u s t be accepted on its own terms. All three see the choice as simple because they simplify epistemological possibilities. I n discussing the ' d i l e m m a ' I rejected the exclusive alternatives it seeks to impose on us. ' I n reacting to these exclusive alternatives most c o n t e m p o r a r y philosophers of religion call B r a i t h w a i t e a reductionist because he does not stress the first alternative.' 4 1 But, in my opinion, Braithwaite did not take the language of religion seriously enough in his second alternative. In saying t h a t religious stories give psychological aid to moral endeavour, B r a i t h w a i t e characterises the relation between moral e n d e a v o u r a n d the religious stories as an external one. As far as his analysis is concerned, the s a m e psychological help could be given to the

same m o r a l e n d e a v o u r by a different story. As I said, 'For Braithwaite, the content of one's m o r a l intentions is quite i n d e p e n d e n t of the religious stories. T h e stories simply provide psychological aid for these intentions.' 4 2 B u t there is a n o t h e r possibility I m e n t i o n e d which never suggested itself to Braithwaite or Roberts: H e never considers the possibility t h a t the religious belief is itself the expression of a m o r a l vision ... T h e l a n g u a g e is not contingently related to the believer's conduct as a psychological aid to it. O n the contrary, it is internally related to it in t h a t it is in terms of this l a n g u a g e t h a t the believer's c o n d u c t is to be u n d e r s t o o d . It is a l a n g u a g e which in itself gives the believer certain possibilities in which to live a n d j u d g e this life. H e n c e the kind of necessity connected with religious beliefs. T h e y are certainly not hypotheses. I t is even misleading to call t h e m propositions. T h o u g h the term h a s d a n g e r s of its own, to avoid the associations of the above t e r m s it would be better to call the religious beliefs d o g m a s : t h e absolutes of faith. 4 3 I have already m e n t i o n e d the possibilities connected with the C h r i s t i a n conception of the Last J u d g e m e n t , b u t in Religion Without Explanation I also referred to the notion of a n eternal pact between lovers in d e a t h a n d to the very different conception of eternity we find in the notion of V a l h a l l a . I n all these examples we have neither the l a n g u a g e of facts nor reference to external help to some prescriptive policy for action. F r o m my t r e a t m e n t of t h e m it can be seen t h a t I do not ignore or evade the ' d i l e m m a ' with which M a c k i e a n d R o b e r t s seek to confront me. O n the contrary, the r e m a r k a b l e feature of R o b e r t s ' s p a p e r is t h a t he ignores the a n s w e r I give to it. Mackie does not ignore the answer. H e completely m i s u n d e r s t a n d s it in e q u a t i n g w h a t I m e a n by internal relations with psychological aid or superstition. 4 4 In o r d e r to u n d e r s t a n d the ignoring or m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g of my response to the ' d i l e m m a ' in which they think I a m c a u g h t , we need a closer look at some of their philosophical a s s u m p t i o n s . Let us r e m i n d ourselves of R o b e r t s ' s words: ' T h e d i l e m m a Phillips tries to avoid is this: Either religious assertions a r e factually true or they are not; if they a r e not factually true, then they are not true except in some m e t a p h o r i c a l sense.' C o n s i d e r the existence of G o d in this context. M a c k i e a n d R o b e r t s tend to

speak of his existence as something literal, factual a n d objective. M a c k i e says 'Phillips has given us no g r o u n d s for denying t h a t " t h e G o d of religion" is a possible subject of simple t r u t h or falsehood: in consequence w h a t he offers is either disguised atheism or u n s u p p o r t e d theism — since he declines to s u p p o r t its factual claims — or else an unresolved tension between the two.' 4 5 Is this true? I h a d referred to Wittgenstein's r e m a r k s on the logical status of the word ' G o d ' : ' T h e word " G o d " is a m o n g s t the earliest learnt — pictures a n d catechisms, etc. But not the s a m e consequences as with pictures of a u n t s . I w a s n ' t shown [that which the picture pictured].' 4 6 Wittgenstein says that he can show M o o r e the pictures of plants: ' T h e r e is a technique of c o m p a r i s o n between picture a n d p l a n t . ' 4 ' If someone were only to see the picture of plants he would be justified in saying, 'I will not believe that the p l a n t s exist unless I see t h e m . ' But w h a t if someone, on h e a r i n g worshippers praise the C r e a t o r of heaven a n d earth, asks to see the object referred to in their worship? W o u l d not this reveal a massive m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g on his part? But note M a c k i e ' s equally revealing question, ' T o talk of " G o d " , Phillips claims, is not to refer to an individual, an object. But then w h a t is it?' 4 8 T h e irony is, of course, t h a t if, per impossibile, any object were said to correspond to the word ' G o d ' , one thing would be certain, t h a t object would not be G o d . For similar reasons, no actual dining hall could be Valhalla. Mackie a n d R o b e r t s ask for factual verification, b u t no such verification could be verification of the reality of G o d . As J o h n W i s d o m h a s said,

N o w w h a t would it be like to see God? Suppose some seer were to see, imagine we all saw, move u p w a r d s f r o m the sea to the sky some prodigious figure which declared in d r e a d f u l tones the m o r a l law or prophesied most truly — our fate. W o u l d this be to see God? W o u l d n ' t it j u s t be a p h e n o m e n o n which later we were able to explain or not able to explain, b u t in neither case the proof of a living God. 4 9 Neither M a c k i e nor Roberts u n d e r s t a n d w h a t N o r m a n M a l c o l m was trying to do in relation to A n s e l m ' s proof, namely, to show t h a t Anselm h a d realised t h a t G o d is not an object a m o n g objects, not something t h a t can come to be a n d pass away. Mackie a n d Roberts, in speaking of the factual character of G o d ' s existence, mislocate the logic of the word ' G o d ' . But w h a t of Mackie's a n d Roberts's conception of the distinction

between the literal a n d the metaphorical? I t is evident t h a t t h e literal a n d the factual are s y n o n y m o u s for them. Such a n equivalence is a gross over-simplification, n o w h e r e m o r e so t h a n in relation to religious belief. C o n s i d e r the following examples f r o m the Psalms to which O . K . B o u w s m a d r a w s our attention: Great is J e h o v a h a n d greatly to be praised... (Ps. 48) J e h o v a h reigneth; let the people tremble; H e sitteth above the c h e r u b i m ; Let the e a r t h be moved. Jehovah is great in Zion. (Ps .99) Bless J e h o v a h , O my soul, 0 Jehovah, My God, thou art very great. (Ps. 104) G r e a t is J e h o v a h a n d greatly to be praised. A n d his greatness is u n s e a r c h a b l e . (Ps. 145) 50 W h a t is the p r i m a r y use of these sentences? According to M a c k i e a n d R o b e r t s I have to choose between the factual a n d the m e t a p h o r i c a l . For M a c k i e a n d Roberts, if we say t h a t G o d ' s greatness is literal or t h a t his height is literal, then they are factual matters. It would be a p p r o p r i a t e to ask how great or high G o d is. W h a t exactly a r e the m e a s u r e m e n t s ? I a s s u m e t h a t neither M a c k i e nor R o b e r t s would w a n t to a n s w e r such questions. Therefore, it seems t h a t we do not have factual l a n g u a g e here. But w h a t of the suggestion that w h a t we have here is an instance of m e t a p h o r i c a l language? Neither M a c k i e nor Roberts are relying on a n a r r o w , technical use of the term ' m e t a p h o r i c a l ' . Notice how R o b e r t s p u t s the m a t t e r with respect to religious beliefs: 'if they are not factually true, then they are not true except in some metaphorical sense.'51 I t is likely, therefore, that they would say t h a t if ' G r e a t is our G o d above all gods' is not factually true, it can only be true in some idiomatic sense. B u t the sense c a n n o t be t h a t found in idioms. Stanley Cavell has shown t h a t idioms, if taken factually, could be true or false. 5 2 Referring to the idioms, ' H e fell flat on his face' a n d 'I sent h i m a w a y with a flea in his ear', Cavell says, 'it is fair to say t h a t their words literally say something t h a t is quite false; something, t h a t is, which could easily, t h o u g h m a y b e comically, be imagined to be true.' 5 3 But in the case of ' G r e a t is our G o d above all gods', the so-called

factual c o m p o n e n t yields nonsense. T h e r e f o r e we d o not have an instance of an idiomatic use of l a n g u a g e here. But w h a t if we take Mackie a n d R o b e r t s to be referring to ' m e t a p h o r ' in a narrow, technical sense? M e t a p h o r s do not b e h a v e like idioms. As Cavell says, 'to say that J u l i e t is the sun is not to say something false; it is, at best, wildly false, a n d t h a t is not being j u s t false. T h i s is p a r t of t h e fact t h a t if we are to suggest t h a t w h a t the m e t a p h o r says is true, we shall have to say it is wildly true — mythically or magically or primitively true.' 5 4 So since there is this difference, with respect to factual t r u t h , between idioms a n d m e t a p h o r s , showing t h a t ' t r u t h ' is not used idiomatically in religious beliefs is not to show t h a t it is not used metaphorically. But even if religious l a n g u a g e were characteristically metaphorical (as distinct f r o m including m e t a p h o r s on specific occasions), neither Mackie nor R o b e r t s could have d o n e justice to m e t a p h o r s . T a k e 'Juliet is the s u n ' . H e r e you can offer a p a r a p h r a s e if someone does not get the point, b u t you normally a d d ' a n d so on'. T h e ' a n d so on', as Cavell says, registers w h a t William E m p s o n calls the ' p r e g n a n c y ' of m e t a p h o r s . W e w o u l d n ' t w a n t to replace the m e t a p h o r with the p a r a p h r a s e . But if we say t h a t the m e t a p h o r expresses a t r u t h we do not m e a n t h a t the t r u t h it expresses is a kind of s u b s t a n d a r d ' t r u t h ' . W h a t is expressed is the t r u t h in the m e t a p h o r . T o think otherwise would be like thinking t h a t the only t r u t h which a distortion can contain, is a distorted t r u t h . If M a c k i e a n d R o b e r t s think t h a t only empirical, factual statements can be true, or convey t r u t h s , t h a t is their p r o b l e m . But the p r i m a r y form of religious language is not m e t a p h o r i c a l language. As Cavell says, ' T o give the p a r a p h r a s e , to u n d e r s t a n d the m e t a p h o r , I must u n d e r s t a n d the ordinary or dictionary m e a n i n g of the words it contains, and u n d e r s t a n d that they are not being used there in their o r d i n a r y way.' 3 5 W i t h religious expressions it is different. Cavell considers the expressions, 'a m a n stands before G o d ' a n d ' T h i s night shall thy soul be required of thee'. H e says t h a t K i e r k e g a a r d is right in not calling such uses m e t a p h o r i c a l . Cavell argues 'Speaking metaphorically' is a m a t t e r of speaking in certain ways using a definite form of l a n g u a g e for some purpose; 'speaking religiously' is not accomplished by using a given form, or set of forms, of words, a n d is not done for a n y

f u r t h e r purpose: it is to speak from a p a r t i c u l a r perspective, as it were to m e a n a n y t h i n g you say in a special way. T o u n d e r s t a n d a m e t a p h o r you m u s t be able to interpret it; to u n d e r s t a n d a n u t t e r a n c e religiously you have to be able to s h a r e its perspective. 5 6 A philosopher can u n d e r s t a n d t h a t w i t h o u t himself sharing the perspective. But he c a n n o t u n d e r s t a n d that without u n d e r s t a n d i n g , as Cavell says, t h a t T h e religious is a K i e r k e g a a r d i a n Stage of life; a n d I suggest t h a t it should be t h o u g h t of as a Wittgensteinian form of life. 57 T h e r e seems no reason not to believe that, as a given person m a y never occupy this stage, so a given age, a n d all f u t u r e ages, m a y as a whole not occupy it — t h a t the form will be lost f r o m m e n ' s lives altogether. 5 8 B u t religious expressions have not been lost yet. In the Psalms we have examples of a p r i m a r y use of religious language. Now, if we want to call primary use a literal use, then the believers are saying something they want to say is literally true, without its being either factual or metaphorical. Referring to m y analysis M a c k i e says, ' B u t now the firm g r o u n d b e n e a t h our feet has d i s a p p e a r e d a n d we are struggling helplessly in a bog ... T o speak of a different g r a m m a r of " t r u t h " is to d e m a n d a licence for evasion a n d double-talk.' 5 9 R o b e r t s approves of this reaction. W h a t we have seen, however, is t h a t w h a t needs questioning is their philosophical confidence t h a t they were s t a n d i n g on firm g r o u n d in the first place. I n s t e a d of determining, w i t h o u t looking at h u m a n practices, w h a t t h a t firm g r o u n d has to consist in, they o u g h t to look at the concepts at work in those practices. N o more licence is d e m a n d e d t h a n t h a t required for a clear elucidation of the p r i m a r y uses of l a n g u a g e in these diverse practices. W h e n we b r i n g examples of the p r i m a r y use of l a n g u a g e in religion to M a c k i e ' s attention, he fails to a p p r e c i a t e them. For him, to say t h a t G o d exists is to say that an object exists. If you think like Mackie, you will not u n d e r s t a n d why, if you spit in G o d ' s face, you c a n ' t miss. Wittgenstein says, ' T h e way you use the word " G o d " does not show whom you m e a n — but r a t h e r , w h a t you m e a n . ' 6 0 T h i n k how different it would be if Wittgenstein h a d written ' b u t r a t h e r , what you mean.' 6 1

Mackie reacts in similar ways w h e n he considers religious art. Mackie says, 'a s o m e w h a t old-fashioned C h r i s t i a n m a y believe, literally, t h a t there will be a last j u d g e m e n t . H e need not, indeed, suppose t h a t there will be such a scene as that depicted by Michelangelo on the wall of the Sistine C h a p e l ... I a m saying only t h a t talk a b o u t a last j u d g e m e n t can be understood literally.' 6 2 T h e m a i n deficiency in these r e m a r k s is not lack of analysis, but lack of imagination. T o say t h a t G o d is in a picture is not to say t h a t it is a picture of G o d . But for M a c k i e a n d R o b e r t s there is one simple s t a n d a r d conception of t r u t h a n d everything else is a deviation f r o m it, an idiomatic or m e t a p h o r i c a l use of t r u t h . Because it m a y well s h a r e this simple conception, a m o d e r n audience too m a y feel helpless in trying to come to grips with religious beliefs. T h e y too have a priori conceptions of w h a t ' t r u t h ' m u s t a m o u n t to; conceptions arrived at w i t h o u t waiting on religious beliefs. T h u s a m o d e r n a u d i e n c e is unlikely to be a s y m p a t h e t i c audience. T h e r e is a fourth reason why we m a y think all our elucidations of h u m a n practices should be clear to everyone given t h a t we have sufficient analytic ability. W e are, after all, in philosophy, striving for clarity concerning the concepts we employ. If we p a y attention to concept-formation, to the various primitive reactions in which such concepts are g r o u n d e d , w h a t s t a n d s in the way of our appreciation of them? T h i s confident expectation overlooks a very i m p o r t a n t fact: a l t h o u g h all concepts are public, this does not m e a n t h a t they are universal; c o m m o n reactions a r e not universal reactions. A language which we share is not a l a n g u a g e we share with everyone. T h i s fact has i m p o r t a n t consequences for the practice of philosophy. Let us see how this comes a b o u t . Wittgenstein said, ' L a n g u a g e does not emerge f r o m reasoning.' 6 3 W e d o not reason our w a y to our primitive reactions concerning pain, colours, sounds. A t later, more refined stages, reasons and discriminations become appropriate. Such refinements, however, are d e p e n d e n t on the b r u t e fact t h a t we react as we do — j u m p with fright, call colours light or d a r k , call sounds loud or quiet, cry out in p a i n or express concern or shock at the p a i n of others. W e d o not agree to react in these ways. R a t h e r , the fact t h a t we agree shows itself in these reactions. T h e possibility of the d e v e l o p m e n t of the concepts concerned is rooted in such reactions. Primitive reactions play a central role too in enquiries where, we a r e inclined to think, the interest m u s t emerge f r o m intellectual reflection a n d e x p e r i m e n t a t i o n . W e think this

m u s t apply to our interest in causal connections. But M a l c o l m asks us to consider the following example: ' S u p p o s e that a child r u n s into a n o t h e r child, knocking h i m d o w n ... T h e child would not be d o u b t i n g or w o n d e r i n g w h a t m a d e h i m fall. H e would not w a n t to observe w h a t h a p p e n s in o t h e r cases. N o r would he be said to assume t h a t in similar cases the s a m e thing occurs.' 6 4 Wittgenstein r e m a r k s , T h e r e is a reaction which can be called 'reacting to the cause' — W e also speak o f ' t r a c i n g the cause', a simple case would be, say, following a string to see w h o is pulling it. If I then find him —- how did I know t h a t he, his pulling, is the cause of the string's moving? D o I establish this by a series of experiments? 6 0 In calling our attention to primitive reactions, Wittgenstein is opposing the rationalistic view of l a n g u a g e which suggests t h a t language is the result of intellectual reflection. T h e r e is a striking similarity between w h a t he has to say a n d r e m a r k s by Weil on concept-formation. She says T h e very n a t u r e of the relationship between ourselves a n d w h a t is external to us, a relationship which consists in a reaction, a reflex, is our perception of the external world. Perception of n a t u r e , p u r e a n d simple, is a sort of dance; it is this d a n c e t h a t makes perception possible for us. Peter W i n c h c o m m e n t s : Simone Weil's account, like Wittgenstein's, achieves this by m a k i n g the notion of action central. Action is conceived, in the first instance, as a series of bodily m o v e m e n t s having a certain d e t e r m i n a t e t e m p o r a l order. I n its primitive form action is quite unreflective. H u m a n beings, a n d o t h e r a n i m a t e creatures, naturally react in characteristic ways to objects in their environments. T h e y salivate in the presence of food a n d eat it; this already effects a r u d i m e n t a r y classification which doesn't have to be based on a n y reflection between 'food' a n d 'not food'. O u r eyes scan objects a n d connect with other characteristic m o v e m e n t s of our bodies, we sniff things (or sometimes hold our noses), we exhibit subtly different reactions to things we p u t into

our m o u t h s — corresponding to such tastes as 'sour', 'sweet', 'salty', etc. — a n d so on. T h e reactions are developed a n d refined as we m a t u r e ; a n d some of these refinements a n d developments are responses to training by other h u m a n beings a r o u n d us. A staircase is s o m e t h i n g to be climbed, a chair is something to be sat in: c o m p a r e W i t t g e n s t e i n ' s r e m a r k : ' I t is p a r t of the g r a m m a r of the word " c h a i r " t h a t this is w h a t we call " t o sit in a chair".' 6 7 As Simone Weil expresses it: 'everything t h a t we see suggests some kind of .>68 69

movement

.

Speaking of these primitive reactions, Wittgenstein says, T h e origin a n d the primitive f o r m of the l a n g u a g e - g a m e is a reaction; only f r o m this can the m o r e complicated f o r m s grow. L a n g u a g e — I w a n t to say — is a refinement; 'in the beginning was the deed'. 7 0 W i t t g e n s t e i n a n d Weil are saying: in the beginning was the d a n c e . L a n g u a g e concerning fear, p a i n , surprise, causation a n d perception develops f r o m primitive reactions, the d a n c e of the body; it is h a r d l y surprising, then, t h a t such reactions should be of central i m p o r t a n c e in magical a n d religious practices. T h e s e practices m a y not be a p p r e c i a t e d because people a r e alive to the possibilities of confusion in t h e m . But w h a t we have here are possible confusions, not necessary confusions. T h e s a m e is true of the other confusions a b o u t the logic of our l a n g u a g e which m a y mislead us. A l t h o u g h the l a n g u a g e of wishing or expectation m a y mislead us, so t h a t we think t h a t w h a t is wished for is s o m e h o w in the wish a n d can m a k e it c o m e true, Wittgenstein did not conclude t h a t the l a n g u a g e in which wishes are expressed needs revising. R u s h Rhees emphasises, Wittgenstein would not have said there need be a n y t h i n g mistaken in our using the different f o r m s of expression: ' I a m expecting h i m ' , 'I a m expecting him to come', a n d ' I expect t h a t he will come'. H e would not h a v e said t h a t only the second of these expresses correctly w h a t the fulfilment of my expectation would be. If you asked ' W h a t a r e you waiting for?' a n d I answered ' I ' m waiting for my b r o t h e r ' , there would be n o t h i n g i n a c c u r a t e or i n a d e q u a t e in this;

a n d Wittgenstein would not h a v e said, ' w h a t you really m e a n is you are waiting for your b r o t h e r to come'. 7 1 W e c a n n o t say, simply by looking at a form of words, w h e t h e r these words are going to be confused or not. W h a t we need is not to look at the sentence, but at w h a t we d o with it. T h e s a m e lesson m u s t be applied to the l a n g u a g e of magic a n d religion. W e c a n n o t say a priori simply by looking at the l a n g u a g e of curses, prayers a n d sacrifices, t h a t it leads to confusion. W h e r e rituals express a wish, then, to know in w h a t sense the ritual acts out the wish, we would have to take account of the role played by the ritual in the details of the lives of the people w h o celebrate it. As elsewhere, to see w h e t h e r the 'acting o u t ' is confused or not, we m u s t not think — impose our a priori a s s u m p t i o n s — b u t look. W h e n we follow this good philosophical advice in relation to magic a n d religion, we see possibilities come to light which we are t e m p t e d to ignore. W e m a y ignore t h e m because we a r e not alive to t h e m as possibilities. Let us think again of sticking pins in a picture as the expression of a wish. W e have already seen the possibilities of confusion the 'acting o u t ' of the wish m a y involve, b u t are these the only possibilities? Let us consider a version of sticking pins in an effigy p u t f o r w a r d by my colleague, H . O . M o u n c e . H e asks us to imagine someone w h o has d r a w n an excellent likeness of one's m o t h e r asking one to stick a pin in the picture, taking special care to a i m at one of the eyes. M o u n c e c o m m e n t s , ' T h e r e is h a r d l y anyone, I suppose, w h o would not find it very difficult to comply with this request. T h i s reaction ... so far as I can see, is neither rational nor irrational; it is j u s t the way most people would h a p p e n to react.' 7 2 M o u n c e does not tell us w h a t he thinks of this reaction. H e does not consider the possibility of its being a primitive m o r a l reaction. T h i s is i m p o r t a n t , since it might be vital in d e t e r m i n i n g how one reads the acting out of the fulfilment of the wish. T h i s is how M o u n c e does in fact continue to unfold the example: Suppose, however, t h a t one does comply with the request a n d then discovers, a short time later, t h a t one's m o t h e r has developed an affliction in the eye a n d is in d a n g e r of going blind. I w o n d e r how m a n y people would resist the feeling, if only momentarily, t h a t there was some connection

between the two events. But this b e l i e f . . . is j u s t as a b s u r d as a n y t h i n g held by the Azande. 7 3 By 'some connection' M o u n c e m e a n s some causal connection, b u t we c a n n o t a s s u m e t h a t the 'acting o u t ' m u s t take this form. W h e n I discussed M o u n c e ' s e x a m p l e with a class of forty students, 7 4 fifteen of t h e m said t h a t they would have no difficulty in sticking pins in the picture, a n d t h a t if they did, they would feel no guilt if the m o t h e r were visited later with the affliction. ' I t ' s only a picture,' they said, ' h o w can it have a n y t h i n g to do with it?' W h e n asked to elaborate, they said t h a t there w a s no causal connection between the two events. T h e others in the class said they could not stick pins in the picture, a n d t h a t if they did, they would feel guilty if the affliction developed. For t h e m there would be a connection between the two events. T h e fifteen were surprised to discover, however, t h a t by some connection, the others did not m e a n some causal connection. I n discussion it emerged t h a t w h a t they m e a n t was something like this: they felt t h a t sticking pins in the picture reduces serious possibilities to a game; it plays a r o u n d with things. W h e n the affliction occurs, an internal relation between the 'playing a r o u n d ' a n d the event makes the guilt u n d e r s t a n d a b l e . W h a t this elucidation shows, however, is not t h a t people refused to stick in the pins as a consequence of such beliefs, b u t that primitive m o r a l responses occur a n d t h a t people, if asked to reflect on t h e m , m a y reply in this way. For the fifteen students, no causal connection m e a n t no connection at all. For some of t h e m , the reactions of the others served as r e m i n d e r s of possibilities they h a d not t h o u g h t of. B u t w h a t I w a n t to emphasise is t h a t the others could still m a k e n o t h i n g of those responses. Shall we say t h a t they m i s u n d e r s t o o d ? N o t if this m e a n s m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g the logic of the language. T h e l a n g u a g e does not get off the g r o u n d with them. They fail to understand, but they do not misunderstand,75 T h e y c a n n o t take the reactions in the right spirit. T h i s is a c o n s t a n t p r o b l e m for the philosopher of religion's task of providing r e m i n d e r s to achieve clarity. T h i n k again of Beattie's examples of c o n t e m p o r a r y beliefs in the power of words. H e says t h a t even we, let alone primitives, feel frightened or a s h a m e d at h i d d e n wishes for someone's i n j u r y or d e a t h , a n d feel guilty if the event wished for occurs. B u t need such reactions lead us into confusions? O n l y if the injury or d e a t h is seen as a consequence of the wish. T h i n k again of w h a t the wish

is for — the injury or d e a t h of s o m e o n e else. H e r e , w h a t is longed for is expressed in the portrayal of it, as m a y be the case with sticking pins in an effigy, a n d the 'tendency to confuse w h a t belongs to the symbolism with w h a t is expressed in the symbolism', to which Beattie refers, need not be present. T h e wish shows something a b o u t me. I n t h a t sense, I have my wish in the expression of it. T h i n k of Wittgenstein's r e m a r k , ' T h e description (Darstellung) of a wish is, eo ipso, the description of its fulfilment.' 7 6 Rhees c o m m e n t s , 'If I translate 'Darstellung' roughly in the phrases: " p o r t r a y a l of my wish ... portrayal of t h a t which would satisfy my wish", then this second p h r a s e is not the same as, " p o r t r a y i n g the satisfaction of my w i s h " or " p o r t r a y i n g the arrival of w h a t I wish for".' 7 7 W h e n , however, w h a t I h a v e wished for is satisfied, does arrive, my guilt, if guilt there be, can be u n d e r s t o o d in terms of the internal relation between my wish, the wish which frightens me or makes m e feel a s h a m e d , a n d the actual occurrence of w h a t I h a d wished for. Such reactions, free of the confusions Beattie refers to, are as c o m m o n a m o n g ourselves as they a r e a m o n g primitives. That is a r e m i n d e r we s t a n d in need of. But we also need r e m i n d i n g t h a t some will fail to u n d e r s t a n d such reactions; fail to see any sense in t h e m . So giving religious primitive reactions a n d s u b s e q u e n t concept-formation their proper place in our reflections d e p e n d s on m o r e t h a n not being misled by the logic of our language. It d e p e n d s , more f u n d a m e n t ally, on the spirit in which we are able to respond to the language in question. W e have seen four reasons why a c o n t e m p o r a r y philosopher of religion, seeking to give a perspicuous representation of religious beliefs, c a n n o t take his audience for g r a n t e d . First, the confidence of philosophers in thinking t h a t they have shown religious belief to be meaningless. Second, the high price such philosophers would have to p a y if this confidence were u n d e r m i n e d . T h e y would h a v e to a d m i t to being in the grip of t h e very superstitions they took themselves to be attacking. T h i r d , the secular character of the m o d e r n audience which makes it u n s y m p a t h e t i c to religion. F o u r t h , t h a t we do not s h a r e all the concepts in our language. Some we d o not m i s u n d e r s t a n d , b u t fail to u n d e r s t a n d . O f course, there m a y well be perspectives which the philosophers of religion I have in m i n d are as blind to as others a r e to the perspectives they are trying to elucidate. In a n y event, the conception of philosophy as a subject which has, by its own inherent resources, all it needs to u n d e r s t a n d a n y h u m a n practice presented to it,

will h a v e to be revised. T h a t c o n c e p t i o n m a y well be a n o t h e r illusion, w h i c h , a f t e r f o u n d a t i o n a l i s m , p h i l o s o p h y is called o n to surrender.

Notes 1. See p. 8. 2. Kai Nielsen, 'On the Rationality of Groundless Believing', Idealistic Studies, vol. 11, no. 3 (Sept. 1981), p. 215. 3. E.B. Tylor, Primitive Culture (John Murray, London, 1920), p. 453. 4. O'Connor, Mystery and Manners, p. 159. 5. Sigmund Freud, The Future of an Illusion (Hogarth Press, London, 1962), p. 46. 6. Ludwig Wittgenstein, 'Remarks on Frazer's The Golden Bough', The Human World, no. 3 (May 1971). 7. Ibid., p. 37. 8. Ibid., p. 31. 9. John W. Cook, 'Magic, Witchcraft and Science', Philosophical Investigations, vol. 6, no. 1 (1983). 10. Rush Rhees had anticipated the kind of reaction we find in Cook: ' "So Wittgenstein was coming forward in defence of the ancient rituals!" That remark could have sense only if Wittgenstein had recognised no other "co-ordinates", no other standards than that of knowledge, of what may be established in science, and error; (and probably it would not have sense even then).' Rush Rhees, 'Wittgenstein on Language and Ritual' in Brian McGuinness (ed.), Wittgenstein and His Times (Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1982), pp. 80-1. 11. Ibid., p. 82. 12. Wittgenstein, MS 109, 21 Of. 13. J o h n Beattie, Other Cultures (Cohen and West, London, 1964), p. 204. Cook quotes this passage in 'Magic, Witchcraft and Science', p. 6. 14. Wittgenstein, 'Frazer's Golden Bough?, p. 19. 15. Compare the following: T h e gestures made in these rituals had been learned in the daily life and language of those who made them — or many, and probably most of them were. The gestures used only in the ceremony had their role as gestures — they were seen as gestures — through some affinity with the gestures made in daily life and practical affairs (in building, planting, hunting, fighting, and so on). And the same goes for words and sentences, which are as important in many ritual or magical practices as gestures are, in incantations, spells, curses, in prayers, vows, and so on. There may be words used only in ritual magic, but these are taken as words with the power that words have in speech — conversation, instructions, orders, quarrels, etc., outside ritual — a power which they bring with them into ritual.' Rhees, 'Wittgenstein on Language and Ritual', p. 72. 16. For further discussion of this issue see my paper 'Wittgenstein's

Full Stop' in I. Block (ed.), Perspectives on the Philosophy of Wittgenstein (Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1981). This paper is used in a wider context in my Belief, Change and Forms of Life. 17. Evans-Pritchard, Primitive Religion, p. 17. 18. Cook, 'Magic, Witchcraft and Science', p. 35. 19. Robert Coles, Flannery O'Connor's South (Louisiana State University Press, Baton Rouge, 1980), pp. 6-7. 20. I b i d , pp. 10-11. 21. O'Connor, Mystery and Manners, p. 168. 22. I b i d , p. 189. 23. Flannery O'Connor, 'The Lame Shall Enter First' in Everything That Rises Must Converge, p. 161. 24. I b i d , pp. 189-90. 25. Ibid. 26. I b i d , p. 187. 27. Tylor, Primitive Culture, p. 429. 28. Phillips, Religion Without Explanation, pp. 40-1. 29. Wittgenstein, 'Frazer's Golden Bough.', p. 34. 30. Matt. 6:23. 31. Quoted in Coles, Flannery O'Connor's South, p. 154. 32. Whether this could be said with the same conviction now is another matter. 33. Coles, Flannery O'Connor's South, p. 166. 34. I b i d , pp. 33-4. 35. I b i d , pp. 97-8. 36. I b i d , p. 113. T h e story was 'A Good M a n is Hard to Find'. I have discussed it in this connection in 'The Devil's Disguises' in Stuart Brown (ed.), Objectivity and Cultural Divergence (Cambridge University Press, 1984). 37. Phillips, Religion Without Explanation, p. 143. 38. Mackie, Miracle of Theism, p. 225. 39. T.A. Roberts, 'Crefydd a Rheswm' (Religion and Reason), Y Traethodydd (April 1984), p. 77. 40. Phillips, Religion Without Explanation, p. 142. 41. Ibid. 42. I b i d , p. 143. 43. I b i d , pp. 143-4. 44. See Mackie, Miracle of Theism, p. 226. 45. I b i d , p. 228. 46. Wittgenstein, Lectures and Conversations, p. 59. 47. I b i d , p. 63. 48. Mackie, Miracle of Theism, p. 226. 49. John Wisdom, 'Gods' in Philosophy and Psychoanalysis (Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1964), p. 11. 50. Bouwsma, 'Anselm's Argument' in Without Proof or Evidence. 51. Roberts, 'Crefydd a Rheswm', p. 77. My italics. 52. Stanley Cavell, 'Aesthetic Problems in Modern Philosophy' in Must WeMean What We Say (Cambridge University Press, 1976);seepp. 80-1. 53. I b i d , p. 80.

54. Ibid. 55. Ibid., p. 79. 56. Stanley Cavell, 'Kierkegaard's On Authority and Revelation', in Must We Mean What We Say, p. 172. 57. I should prefer to say that to imagine a religion is to imagine it in a form of life. For my reasons for this preference see Belief, Change and Forms of Life, ch. 5. 58. Cavell, 'Kierkegaard's On Authority'. 59. Mackie, Miracle of Theism, p. 225. 60. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Culture and Value, trans. Peter Winch (Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1977), p. 50e. 61. I owe this observation to Peter Winch. 62. Mackie, Miracle of Theism, p. 3. 63. Wittgenstein, On Certainty, para. 475. 64. Norman Malcolm, 'The Relation of Language to Instinctive Behaviour', Philosophical Investigations, vol. 5, no. 1 (Jan. 1982), pp. 5-6. 65. Ludwig Wittgenstein, 'Cause and Effect: Intuitive Awareness', Philosophia, vol. 6, nos. 3-4 (Sept.-Dec. 1976), pp. 391^408: selected and edited by Rush Rhees, English translation by Peter Winch, p. 416. 66. Weil, Lectures on Philosophy, p. 51. 67. Ludwig Wittgenstein, The Blue and Brown books (Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1978), p. 52. 68. Weil, Lectures on Philosophy, p. 31. 69. Ibid., Peter Winch, Introduction, p. 12. 70. Wittgenstein, Culture and Value, p. 31. 71. Rhees, 'Wittgenstein on Language and Ritual', p. 88. 72. H . O . Mounce, 'Understanding a Primitive Society', Philosophy, vol. 48 (Oct. 1973), pp. 347-62. 73. Ibid., p. 353. 74. At the University of Carleton, Ottawa. 75. For a development of the important distinction between 'misunderstanding' and 'failing to understand' see Rhees, 'Wittgenstein on Language and Ritual'. 76. Wittgenstein, 'Frazer's Golden Bough', p. 31. 77. Rhees, 'Wittgenstein on Language and Ritual', p. 90.

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Plantinga and Nicholas Wolterstorff (eds), Faith and Rationality, University of Notre Dame Press, Indiana Mitchell, Basil (1973) The Justification of Religious Belief, Macmillan, London Mounce, H . O . (1973) 'Understanding a primitive society', Philosophy, vol. 48 and Phillips, D.Z. (1970) Moral Practices, Routledge and Kegan Paul, London Newman, J o h n Henry (1840) 'Lectures on the Scripture proof of the doctrines of the Church', Tracts for the Times, no. 85, 2nd edn (1843) Sermons Chiefly on the Theory of Religious Beliefpreached before the University of Oxford, Rivingtons, London Nielsen, Kai (1967) 'Wittgensteinian fideism', Philosophy, vol. 42 (1981) 'On the rationality of groundless believing', Idealistic Studies, vol. 11, no. 3 O'Connor, Flannery (1965) Everything That Rises Must Converge, Faber and Faber, London (1968) A Good Man is Hard to Find, Faber and Faber, London (1969) Mystery and Manners, sel. and ed. by Sally and Robert Fitzgerald, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, New York (1980) Letters of Flannery O'Connor: The Habit of Being, sel. and ed. by Sally Fitzgerald, Vintage Books, Random House, New York Phillips, D.Z. (1965) The Concept of Prayer, Routledge and Kegan Paul, London (paperback edn, Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1981) (1970) Faith and Philosophical Enquiry, Routledge and Kegan Paul, London (1970) Death and Immortality, Macmillan, London (1970)'(with H . O . Mounce) Moral Practices, Routledge and Kegan Paul, London (1971) (with Ilhan Dilman) Sense and Delusion, Routledge and Kegan Paul, London (1976) Religion Without Explanation, Basil Blackwell, Oxford (1984) 'The Devil's Disguises' in S. Brown (ed.), Objectivity and Cultural Divergence, Cambridge University Press (1986) Belief, Change and Forms of Life, Macmillan, London and Humanities Press, Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey (1986) R.S. Thomas: Poet of the Hidden God, Macmillan, London (forthcoming) No Main Road: Religion in Twentieth Century Literature Pitkin, H a n n a (1973) 'The roots of conservatism', Dissent, Fall 1973 Plantinga, Alvin (1979) 'Is belief in God rational?' in C.F. Delaney (ed.), Rationality and Religious Belief, University of Notre Dame Press, Indiana (1982) 'Reformed epistemology again', The Reformed Journal, vol. 32, issue 7 (1983) 'Reason and belief in God' in Alvin Plantinga and Nicholas Wolterstorff (eds), Faith and Rationality, University of Notre Dame Press, Indiana Price, H.S. (1978) Translator and Notes, Simone Weil, Lectures on Philosophy, Cambridge University Press Rhees, Rush (1969) 'Religion and language' in Without Answers, Routledge and Kegan Paul, London

(1970) 'On continuity: Wittgenstein's ideas 1938' in Discussions of Wittgenstein, Routledge and Kegan Paul, London, and Shocken Books, New York (1982) 'Wittgenstein on Language and Ritual' in Brian McGuinness (ed.), Wittgenstein and His Times, Basil Blackwell, Oxford Roberts, T.A. (1984) 'Crefydd a Rheswm' (Religion and reason), F Traethodydd, April Robinson, Ian (1973) The Survival of English, Cambridge University Press Rorty, Richard (1980) Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature, Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey and Basil Blackwell, Oxford Swinburne, Richard (1977) The Coherence of Theism, Oxford University Press (1981) The Existence of God, Oxford University Press (1981) Faith and Reason, Oxford University Press Trigg, Roger (1973) Reason and Commitment, Cambridge University Press Tylor, E.B. (1920) Primitive Culture, J o h n Murray, London Van Til, Cornelius (1969) A Christian Theory of Knowledge, Presbyterian and Reformed Publishing Co., New Jersey Warnock, G.J. (1969) Berkeley, Peregrine Books, London Weil, Simone (1952) Gravity and Grace, trans. E m m a Craufurd, intro. Gustave Thibon, Routledge and Kegan Paul, London (1962) 'Draft for a statement of human obligations' in Selected Essays, ed. Richard Rees, Clarendon Press, Oxford (1970) First and Last Notebooks, trans. Richard Rees, Clarendon Press, Oxford (1978) Lectures on Philosophy, trans. H.S. Price, intro. Peter Winch, Cambridge University Press West, Cornel (1980) Review of Paul Holmer, The Grammar of Faith, Union Seminary Quarterly Review, vol. 35, nos 3 and 4 Whittaker, John (1981) 'Literal and figurative language of God', Religious Studies, vol. 17, no. 1 (1981) Matters of Faith and Matters of Principle, Trinity University Press, San Antonio Winch, Peter (1958) The Idea of a Social Science, Routledge and Kegan Paul, London (1972) Ethics and Action, Routledge and Kegan Paul, London (1974) 'Language, Belief and Relativism' in H.D. Lewis (ed.), Contemporary British Philosophy, 4th series (1977) 'Meaning and religious language' in S. Brown (ed.) Reason and Religion, Cornell University Press, Ithaca, New York (1978) Introduction to Weil, Simone, Lectures on Philosophy, trans. H.S. Price, Cambridge University Press Wisdom, John (1968) 'Gods' in Philosophy and Psychoanalysis, Basil Blackwell, Oxford Wittgenstein, Ludwig (1953) Philosophical Investigations, trans. G.E.M. Anscombe, Basil Blackwell, Oxford (1966) Lectures and Conversations on Aesthetics, Psychology and Religious Belief, ed. Cyril Barrett, Basil Blackwell, Oxford (1971) 'Remarks on Frazer's The Golden Bough', trans. A.C. Miles and Rush Rhees, The Human World, no. 3, May 1971

(1976) 'Cause and effect: intuitive awareness', Philosophia, vol. 6, nos 3-4-, Sept.-Dec. (1977) Culture and Value, trans. Peter Winch, Basil Blackwell, Oxford (1978) The Blue and Brown Books, Basil Blackwell, Oxford (1979) On Certainty, trans. Denis Paul and G.E.M. Anscombe, Basil Blackwell, Oxford Wolterstoff, Nicholas (1983) 'Can belief in God be rational?' in Alvin Plantinga and Nicholas Wolterstorff (eds), Faith and Rationality, University of Notre Dame Press, Indiana (1981) 'Is reason enough?' The Reformed Journal, vol. 34, no. 4 Wykstra, Stephen J . 'Plantinga versus evidentialism: relocating the issue', unpublished paper

Index Alston, William P. 23,36,53, 56, 80-3, 93, 334 Aquinas, Thomas 33, 95 Augustine, 95 Austin, J . L . 38,44,46-7,53,186, 191, 334 Barth, Karl 111-12,114,226,334 Basic Propositions xvi, 16-23, 26-8 and a Reformed epistemological reading of On Certainty 56-73 and criteria of basicality 24-8 and incorrigible propositions of sense experience 25, 33-6 and religious beliefs 76-92 and self-evident propositions 17-18, 25-33 in Reformed Epistemology and Wittgenstein's On Certainty 38-52 Beattie, J o h n 308, 329-31, 334 Bennett, Jonathan 139, 140-1, 147, 334 Berger, Peter xii, 167-91,195,334 Boer, Jesse de 33, 37, 53, 334 Bouwsma, O . K . 231, 237, 255, 264, 271-2, 289, 322, 332, 334 Braithwaite, R.B. 319, 320 Britten, Benjamin 118, 122 Brunnerm, Emil 109,112-14,334 Calvin, J o h n 76, 93, 99, 100, 102, 108-9, 110, 114, 334 Cameron, James 84—8, 93, 237, 334 Camus, Albert 11 Cantor, Eddie 31 Cavell, Stanley 237, 323-4, 332-3, 334

Chisholm, Roderick 20, 34 Clifford, W.K. 3, 4, 13, 334 Coburn, Robert 237 Coles, Robert 311, 332, 334 Cone, J a m e s 235 Conway, David 259-64,271,278 289, 334 Cook, John 307, 310, 331, 334 Davidson, A.B. Davis, Stephen Dilman, Ilham Drury, M . O ' C . 289, 334

11, 13, 334 xi 114, 122, 334 186, 191, 276-7

Eliot, T.S. 245, 248, 335 Evans, Donald xi, xiii Evans-Pritchard, E.E. 7, 309, 332, 335 Ferreira, J a m i e 89-93, 335 Feuerbach, Ludwig 108 Finch, Henry Le Roy 191, 335 Fleischacker, Samuel xi foundationalism vv, 3-12, 32-3 and criteria of basicality 24-8 and Reformed challenge to 14-23 and religious beliefs 76-92 and Wittgenstein's On Certainty 38-73 Frazer, J a m e s 7, 8, 13, 335 Freud, Sigmund 108, 120, 186, 306, 331, 335 Fries, Jakob 280, 289, 335 Gibson, David xii Geach, Peter 237 groundless belief 20-1, 123-7 Gutting, Gary 94, 96, 112, 114, 335 Hartshorne, Charles 235

Hawkes, J o h n 173 Heidegger, Martin 235 hermeneutics xvi and epistemology 131-47 and its hidden values 154-65 and optional descriptions 148-53 and the loss of the ordinary 142-7 and the lost world of metaphysics 136-42 Hick, J o h n 251 Holmer, Paul 225-30, 232, 234-51, 335 Hughes, G.E. 237 Hume, David 5 , 6 , 8 4 - 6 , 9 3 , 2 5 7 335 H u m e ' s legacy 5 - 6 Husserl, E d m u n d 235

Marx, Karl 108, 120 Mavrodes, George 42, 53, 335 Mitchell, Basil 13 Moore, G.E. 66 Mounce, H . O . xi, 251, 328-9, 333, 336 mystery and epistemology xix, 255-64 and grace 29If and h u m a n beings 283-9 and metaphysics 265-71 and nature 280-2 and religious belief xix, 273-9 Neibuhr, Richard 222 Newman, J o h n Henry 84—6, 88-91, 93, 336 Nielsen, Kai 236-7, 304-5, 331, 336

J a m e s , William 197 Kafka, Franz 174, 247, 317 Kamenka, Eugene 108, 114, 335 Kant, I m m a n u e l 5, 6 Kenyon, J . D . 24-5, 37, 86, 335 Kierkegaard, Saren 152-3, 226, 229,236-7,264,270-2,275, 289, 332, 335 K u h n , T h o m a s 158 language, inherent inadequacy of, 260-3 Lavoisier, A. 64 Lear, J o n a t h a n 74, 335 Lindbeck, George xii, 196-216, 218-25, 335 Locke, J o h n 136-43, 146-7, 335 Losin, Peter 41-2, 53, 335 Luckman, T h o m a s 167, 181 Luther, Martin 293-4,297-8, 301 Lyas, Colin 126-7, 335 Mackie, J . L . 5, 6, 8, 9, 13, 125, 317-19, 321-5, 332-3, 335 Malcolm, Norman 8, 13, 125-7, 237,267,304,321,325,333, 335 Manser, A.R. xii

Oakeshott, Michael 156 O ' C o n n o r , Flannery 172-3, 181, 187,191,284, 289,297,303, 305,311-14,316,331-2,336 Pascal, Blaise 87, 95 Pelagius, 298 Phillips, D.Z. 6,13,93,114,122, 153,212,251,260,271,289, 303, 320-1, 332, 336 philosophy of religion conception of itself 330-1 and confidence of philosophers 310-11 its contemporary audience 310-31 and secularisation 316-30 and superstition 311-15 Pitkin, H a n n a 190-1, 336 Plantinga, Alvin 4, 12-13, 15-23, 25-39, 41-2, 44-55, 63, 78, 80, 94-5, 107, 113-14, 118, 336 Plato, 120 Prado, C.G. 181 predestination 291-4 Price, H.S. 289, 336

primary language of faith 317-23 proofs of God's existence 8 - 9 Quine, W.V.O. 144 Ramsey, Ian 226 Reformed epistemology xv, xvi and bsic propositions 38—52 and criteria of basicality 24-8 and criticism of its challenge to Foundationalism 24—37 totalitarian claims of 98-113 and Wittgenstein's On Certainty 38-73 religion and conceptual confusion 307-10 and human beings 283-9 and non-religious perspectives 115-22 and nature 280-2 misunderstanding and lack of understanding 304—31 and mystery xix, 273-9 and secularisation 183-91 241-8 Rhees, Rush 29-31,37,107,114, 202-4,209-12,216-17,224, 266, 271, 289, 307, 327, 330-1, 333, 336 Roberts, T.A. 8, 13, 317-20, 322-5, 332, 337 Robinson, Ian 247, 251, 337 Rorty, Richard 132-6, 143-66, 168, 173, 221, 337 Schleirmacher, Friedrich 95 Sims, David xi sociology and meaning xvii, 168-81

Socrates, 242, 267, 270 Solzhenitsyn, A. 174 Swinburne, Richard 4, 13, 251, 337

theology and grammar xviii, 195f, 209-11 without foundations 234—7 theology and theory cognitivist 201-6 experiential and expressive 206-9 and grammar 209-11 and grammatical conflict 213-23 theology and theism 228 theology and historical investigation 228-30 theology and experience 231-2 theology and philosophy 249—50 Thomas, R.S. 290 Trigg, Roger 61, 266, 271, 337 Tylor, E.B. 4, 7, 305-6, 314-15, 331-2, 337 Van Til, Cornelius 11, 13-14,23, 98, 102-6, 114, 337 Voltaire, 95 Warnock, G. 46, 53, 337 Weil, Simone 275-6, 279, 289, 303, 327, 333, 337 West, Cornel 235, 237, 244, 337 Whitehead, Alfred North 235 Whittaker, John 256-8, 267-72, 277-8,289,292-9,301-3,337 Winch, Peter xi, 59, 60, 70, 74, 114,122,135-6,147,196-7, 201, 212, 237, 266, 271, 276-7, 289, 326, 337 Wisdom, J o h n 332, 337 Wittgenstein, Ludwig xi, xvi, xviii, 1,25,31-2,37-11,43, 53-77, 81, 85-9, 91-3, 114, 116, 119, 122-31, 142, 147, 149,167,191,193,195,213, 226, 236, 240, 248, 253, 264-72, 306-7, 309, 315, 321, 325, 326-8, 330-3, 337 Wolterstorff, Nicholas 13,23,29, 51, 114, 337 Wykstra, StephenJ. 78-9,93,337