Daniel Hannan and the emotional case for the Union

It seems to be an accepted conventional wisdom among politicians that, as Bill Clinton said, “It’s the economy, stupid.” It was the assumption of the most recent Republican presidential campaign in the United States and it continues to be the assumption of the parties in my country. It is also clearly the assumption of Better Together, their prime campaign focus having been, perhaps until very recently, the economy and the negative consequences of leaving.

The trouble is that the question that the Scottish people will be answering this Thursday is not fundamentally an economic or utilitarian one, but one of identity. If you miss out the history and the culture, then you miss out the most profound and compelling reasons to preserve the Union. It is true that any divorce will have painful consequences for both parties, and if Scotland divorces itself from the rest of the United Kingdom, these consequences will be symptoms of the destruction of such a closely intertwined and connected partnership.

We should remember how rare it is for a union of different peoples, especially one which at the start was not entirely consensual, to be as successful as this one has been, as described by Daniel Hannan in this excellent blog post. Together, despite some major blots in our history, we have won two world wars, exported the values of parliamentary democracy and the rule of law throughout the world and, incidentally, remained the sixth-largest economy on earth, despite the hardship many of us are experiencing at the moment. Why throw away a union this strong and this valuable?

Why should we be proud to be British? Because no country has made such a contribution to the happiness of mankind. The idea of constitutional liberty, of freedom under the law guaranteed by parliamentary representation, is a British invention…

The relationship between Scotland and England is rather like that between Boswell and Johnson: under the teasing, there is affection based on a shared outlook. We share our vices and our virtues: we are stubborn, brave, morose, drunken, stoical, loyal, taciturn, sceptical, slow to anger but resolute when roused. We are laconic where others are panicky…

The Union brings out the best in its component nations: tolerance, fair-play, indignation at injustice, love of freedom, respect for the law, calm in the face of misfortune.

Like every nation, we’ve had our shabbier moments, our failures, our hypocrisies. But, taking the bad along with the good, we can be as proud as any people on Earth. Do we really plan to toss it all away?

Please also take a look at this website, in which my American Britophile friend conducts interviews with unionists from across the spectrum.

Is the problem of evil fatal to traditional theism?

Heythrop College is a specialist philosophy and theology college of the University of London. Every year they hold an essay competition for Sixth Form students in Britain. This year, there was a choice of two titles:

Is the problem of evil fatal to traditional theism?

How do you know you are not a brain in a vat?

I choose the former title. The deadline was today. Here follows my offering (with minor variation in the format):

If there is a powerful, all-knowing, omnibenevolent God, why is there evil and suffering? In this essay, I will argue that, though the problem of evil is a challenge to traditional theism and will never be fully resolved on earth, it is not fatal to traditional theism. However, first we must define what we mean by “the problem of evil”, “fatal”, and “traditional theism”.

The problem of evil can be defined as the apparent discrepancy between the notion that God exists and the notion that evil exists. It can be divided into two main problems. Firstly, there is the logical problem, which is the apparent logical contradiction between the notion of an omnipotent, omnibenevolent God and the existence of evil.

Secondly, there is the evidential problem, that the evidence of evil in the world apparently suggests that there is no God. William Rowe is a contemporary proponent of the evidential argument from evil. He accepts that it is logically possible that an omnipotent, omnibenevolent God would permit evil to exist, he argues that evil and suffering are evidence against God’s existence, and therefore it is unreasonable to believe that God exists.

For the sake of this essay, I will define traditional theism as the core theological doctrines of the three Abrahamic religions: Christianity, Islam and Judaism. According to traditional, or classical, theism, God is omnipotent, omnibenevolent, omniscient and omnipresent. In contrast to the withdrawn and non-interventionist god of Aristotle and Plato’s philosophy, the god of traditional theism is immanent in the world and loves his creatures, caring deeply and providing for them. He is just and merciful. Moreover, orthodox believers of the three Abrahamic faiths do not believe that evil doesn’t exist, is subjective or is an illusion. All this means that, theologically, evil and suffering provide a formidable challenge to those with the traditional theist view of God and of the world.

Finally, what do we mean by “fatal”? For the problem of evil to be fatal to traditional theism is another matter from it being challenging to traditional theism, or making it improbable. For it to be fatal, it must conclusively prove traditional theism to be false. Only a logical argument could do this, and therefore this essay will focus primarily on the logical problem.

To illustrate the logical problem of evil, the Australian philosopher J.L. Mackie used the Inconsistent Triad of (a) God’s omnipotence, (b) God’s omnibenevolence and (c) the existence of evil. According to Mackie, if any two of these notions are true, the other is false. Since all three of these propositions are true according to traditional theism, we must show that they are not mutually incompatible.

So how do proponents of the logical argument from evil argue that these three ideas are mutually incompatible? In Evil and Omnipotence, Mackie states that we need “additional premises” to show that they contradict each other. His two additional premises are the following:

(1)  A good thing always eliminates evil as far as it can.

(2)  There are no limits to what an omnipotent thing can do.

Let us deal with them each in turn.

“A good thing always eliminates evil as far as it can”

On the face of it this seems true. But is it? First of all, is it a necessary truth? You might argue that it is, since any good thing will love what is good, and therefore hate what is evil. It is certainly necessarily true that, as Mackie says, good is opposed to evil, and therefore a truly good person hates evil. You might then plausibly argue that if one truly hates evil, then one will do everything in one’s power to eliminate it.

The problem is that a good thing is not fundamentally defined as a thing that is opposed to evil. The fundamental nature of a good thing is that it loves what is good, and therefore wants the maximum and deepest amount of good possible.

Therefore, for a good thing, the aim of eliminating evil is second to the aim of maximum goodness. A good person truly hates evil, but his love for what is good is greater than his hatred for what is bad. It is  possible for there to be a case in which a good person will have the power to eliminate a certain evil but must instead allow it in order to further his necessary aim: to maximise the good.

In conclusion, we ought to amend this premise to “a good thing eliminates evil as far as it can without compromising its ultimate aim to maximise good.”

“There are no limits to what an omnipotent thing can do.”

Is this quite true? Firstly, remember that we are defending traditional theism, and when most, though not all, prominent traditional theists have talked of God’s omnipotence, they mean his power to do all that is intrinsically, or logically, possible. However, to refute the statement logically, I invite you to take part in the following thought experiment:

Let’s imagine that there was a totalitarian ruler who had the power to control people’s every action. Now, imagine he introduced a law that all men must be married by the age of twenty-five, yet remain bachelors until the age of forty. The truth is, no matter how much power he had over his citizenry, he would never be able to enforce this law.

We can therefore conclude that power, in the sense that we define it, has nothing to do with the ability to do the logically impossible. As C.S. Lewis said, “nonsense remains nonsense, even when we talk it about God.”


God is all-good and omnipotent. So after examining Mackie’s two additional premises, we arrive at the following conclusion:

God will always eliminate evil, unless it is logically impossible to do so without compromising his aim to maximise goodness in the world.

 God’s ultimate aim for the world, according to traditional theism, is to live in perfect love and harmony with his human creatures, and for his creatures to live in perfect love and harmony with each other – an aim that will be realised in the afterlife. Would it be logically possible to achieve this without the possibility of evil?

For God to fulfil his ultimate aim, freedom of will is required. It is important to understand that free will is not the highest good. In fact, freedom is not an intrinsic good at all. Freedom is the most essential instrumental good to God’s ultimate aim. Without freedom there can be no virtue, love, or intrinsic goodness, and therefore it is impossible for God to achieve his ultimate plan.

However, any genuine freedom includes the freedom to do evil, and therefore, in practice, good cannot exist without evil. Though God hates evil, he loves what is good more. He therefore allows free will, knowing that it will inevitably lead to evil, because he loves the good so much that he thinks it worth it.

Some argue that it would still be possible for an omnipotent God to create human beings in such a way that they would always freely choose the good. As Mackie argued, if there is no logical impossibility in a man freely doing good on one or several occasions, why is it not logically possible for him to freely do good on every occasion? In one set of circumstances, a person may choose to do good, while in another, he may choose to do bad. God is omniscient, and he therefore knows exactly what circumstances will make a person choose good or evil. Why couldn’t he arrange things to be such that everyone would always freely choose to do good?

There are two reasons. Firstly, free will means that will is ultimately down to choice and can at most be partly influenced by outside factors. Secondly, if God intervened so that everyone would always do good, would this be an environment conducive to the development of real virtue? No. In truth, the best opportunities a person has to develop the virtues of love, gratitude and faithfulness are precisely those times when he is tempted to be unloving, ungrateful and unfaithful. No-one can truly say that they have self-control unless they have been tempted to do wrong and yet have done the right thing.

The only conditions ultimately conducive to true perfection – necessary for the afterlife, since there will be no sin – are conditions where evil and suffering are present. Even if God could create conditions in which everyone always did the right thing, it would not cultivate in us the level and depth of goodness required to live in a perfect world in the afterlife. Because of this, he has instead – through allowing evil and suffering – created the only conditions in which he could possibly realise his ultimate aim.

The evidential problem of evil will never be entirely solved, since traditional theism cannot offer a complete explanation for all of the evil in the world. Moreover, this essay has dealt with the intellectual problem of evil, and one cannot (and should not try to) solve an individual’s emotional problem of evil solely or primarily using reason and logic. However, the existence of evil is compatible and consistent with traditional theism, and therefore the problem of evil is not fatal to traditional theism.


Those Clegg-Farage debates…

It’s a depressingly frequent feature of modern debate that one or both sides deliberately, usually through self-deception, misunderstands and misrepresents the arguments and opinions of his opponent. Instead of engaging with and responding to what the other person actually said, he invents an imaginary opinion for his opponent, and attacks it.

It’s a common mistake. My history teacher has wryly observed that when an exam candidate gets a really difficult essay question, he will often subconsciously change the essay question to make it easier to answer. He will then write a long, detailed essay and walk out of the exam room beaming at how well he’s done, before being disappointed on results day, because…he didn’t actually answer the question. Similarly, in debates, if you can’t counter your opponent’s argument, you’ll pretend that he gave an argument that’s easier to counter, rather than having to argue against what he actually said.

In the recent debates between Nick Clegg and Nigel Farage on the EU, Clegg’s contributions were full of such straw-man arguments, and full of clichés. I admit I had actually quite liked his phrase “alarm clock Britain”, which he used at the 2011 Lib Dem conference to describe the ordinary working British public. It was unintentionally amusing but genuinely quite clever. This time, his turns of phrase were only wearisome.

In the first debate, hosted by LBC, he repeatedly used the phrase “pulling up the drawbridge” to describe UKIP’s policy, as if they advocated completely cutting ourselves off from European immigration (or reducing it to “negligible proportions”, as per Enoch Powell). They don’t.

In the second debate, hosted by David Dimbleby for the BBC, Clegg argued against the idea that leaving the EU will solve all our problems with immigration. Farage didn’t say that leaving the EU would solve all our problems. I share Clegg’s distaste for Farage’s choice of words in his praise for President Putin (“how he played the whole Syria thing. Brilliant”). Still, over Ukraine, it’s really not too difficult to distinguish between criticism of the EU and British governments’ provocation and handling of the crisis, and “siding with Vladimir Putin” or being “the leader of party Putin” (as opposed to Clegg’s party In). He doesn’t. He isn’t.

Clegg continually gave the tired liberal line that his opponent wanted to “turn the clock back”; in his closing statement he idiotically accused Farage of “shun[ning] the modern world, want[ing] to turn the clock back to a world where it was all so much more simple I don’t know, Britain still had the empire, women knew their place and stayed at home, people who were gay weren’t allowed to get married.” What evidence did he have that Farage believed a woman’s place was in the home? None, is the obvious answer. (In fact, Mr. Farage really isn’t a social conservative he supports the legalisation of drugs and prostitution, and isn’t ashamed to have visited lap dancing clubs. Mr. Clegg should do his homework.)

He dismissed Farage’s claim that the EU wanted its own army, navy and air force (sorry, Cleggers, but it’s true), smearing him by association with conspiracy theories: “I wouldn’t be surprised if Nigel Farage soon tells us that the moon landing was a fake, that Barack Obama isn’t American, and that Elvis isn’t dead.” The most unbelievable misrepresentation of Farage’s views was when he said this:

He [Farage] claimed last week that 485 million people were going to vacate the whole of the rest of the European continent and turn up in Britain, leaving no human habitation left in the rest of Europe.

What Mr. Farage had said was the following: “485 million people have the unconditional right to come to Britain if they want to.” No intelligent person could have honestly interpreted that in the way that Clegg did, or insulted the viewing public’s intelligence by honestly thinking they would share his interpretation.

Farage performed notably better in the second debate than in the first, though I didn’t agree with all of his arguments in either. I think forgoing the pre-debate pint (unlike the first time) probably paid off. Putting Clegg’s caricatures, smears and complacency to shame, he showed himself, far from being an isolationist backwoodsman mourning a bygone age, to have an inspired, optimistic view of Britain’s place in the world. But what was really interesting was how he repeatedly tailored his words towards the ordinary, little guy against big business – the EU and mass immigration are good for big business, but bad for you and me.

A month ago, there was a poll which asked supporters of the four major political parties the following question: If returning to the top 50p rate of tax would not bring in any extra revenue, would they still support it on “moral grounds”? The interesting thing was that as much as 35 per cent of UKIP voters said yes, compared to 54 per cent no. It seems that UKIP’s increasingly economically left-wing, working class base – most of whom would never dream of voting Tory – would not be best pleased to discover UKIP’s policy of a 31% flat tax. Looking at their economic policies, it’s easy to see why they focus on the areas where they do agree with their potential supporters – immigration and the EU – while keeping quiet about their economic policies. The only problem is that most people rank the economy pretty highly in their list of concerns, and even for UKIP voters it ranks higher than the EU.

Though I certainly don’t see eye to eye with him on everything, Nigel Farage is that rare thing – a sincere, patriotic and admirable politician – and he easily beat Clegg in last week’s debate. But as a libertarian in a not instinctively libertarian country, and without a substantially libertarian voting base, the idea that he is in tune with the people in a way the established parties are not is not entirely the case.

Hi, peeps

I’m a random young English Christian guy who enjoys thinking, reading and writing about deep stuff, listening to most types of music, walking and cycling. I had a previous blog, though I wasn’t always committed to it and, though there are some posts I’m pretty pleased with, don’t feel all of it still represents me.

So, here’s to a new start. I will try to post here as often as my busy A-Level studies allow, and hope what I write will be interesting, enjoyable and at least mildly entertaining. Feel free to comment, whatever your view – there’s nothing like a good discussion or debate – and God bless. J