The (First) Loftus-Wood Debate Is Now Available Online

My first debate with John Loftus on the Problem of Evil can be watched below. John and I decided to make it available several months ago, but, unfortunately, neither of us had a clue how to do it. John did his homework, however, and is now an expert on Google Video. (Note: Due to some technical difficulties on the evening of the debate, the sound quality isn't very good. So be prepared to crank up the volume and listen closely.)

I'm looking forward to feedback. (And wouldn't anyone like to see a debate titled, "Loftus vs. Wood III: Why an Atheist Became a Christian, and a Christian Became an Atheist"?

PART ONE



PART TWO



PART THREE



PART FOUR



PART FIVE



For John's comments on the debate, see "Comments on the Loftus-Wood Debate on the Problem of Evil."

For my comments on the debate, see "The Will to Disbelieve: A Critical Review of the Loftus-Wood Debate."

Click here to listen to a Podcast of my second debate with John Loftus, on "The Debate Hour."

For a review of the second debate, see Mary Jo Sharp's "Loftus-Wood Round Two: Another Failed Argument from Evil."

A Reply to Andrea Weisberger, Part Five: Free Will and the Women of Stepford

[This is the fifth part of my reply to Dr. Andrea Weisberger's critique of my arguments in the first Loftus-Wood debate.]

The strength of the Argument from Evil comes from the prevalence of suffering in our world. Some arguments in the Philosophy of Religion are so subtle and complicated that they lose their force somewhere in the lengthy lists of highly abstract premises. The Argument from Evil, on the other hand, is constructed upon the sturdy foundation of human and animal suffering, for which innumerable examples may be given.

Yet many theodicies (i.e. attempts to account for evil in terms of certain good states of affairs that cannot be had without suffering) are also based on features of experience that are obvious. For instance, many theists point to the value of free will and argue that human freedom is so significant that God may allow a degree of moral evil simply because our freedom is valuable—even if we misuse it. Similarly, theists often point to the value of hardship in developing virtues and in helping us recognize our dependence on something greater than ourselves.

Difficulties arise when some atheists reject the importance of the goods appealed to by the theist. “Who cares about free will?” an atheist may ask. “What’s so important about virtue?” asks another. Here the theist finds herself in a difficult spot, for she cannot prove that a value judgment is true. All she can say is something like “Well, free will is quite important to me.”

Of course, a theist could turn the atheist’s objection around and say, “Okay, what’s so important about suffering?” This would be a shocking reply, since suffering is so obviously important. But that’s exactly the point. Although suffering is extremely significant, to say that it is significant is nevertheless a value judgment. What does this mean? It means that some things cannot be proven with arguments, even though they are quite obviously true.

When the atheist complains that free will isn’t important, he is taking advantage of this fact. He is saying, in effect, “Everyone knows that free will is important, but you can’t prove it, so I’m not going to accept your response.” At this point, it may be helpful for the theist to offer a few thought-experiments. For example, the theist might ask the following: “Suppose you had a button, and if you push the button, all suffering will end. But here’s the catch. From that point on, all of our decisions will be made for us. We will forever lose our ability to decide what we want to do, and we will be automatons for all eternity. Would you push the button?” Some atheists, such as John Loftus and Andrea Weisberger, would answer in the affirmative. But most people would rather retain their freedom, even if means that we will continue to suffer.

Consider another example. After my first debate with John Loftus, I brought up the movie The Stepford Wives (read my post here), where the husbands of Stepford replaced their human wives with beautiful robots who obey their every command. I asked the audience how many of them would prefer a “perfect” robot wife (with no free will) to an “imperfect” human wife. Interestingly, the only person in the room to raise his hand was Loftus! Thus, there were several atheists in the room who understood that there’s something important about freedom. Love from a wife who is free to leave is better than the “love” of a robot who is programmed to obey.

This is quite significant, for when atheists like Loftus and Weisberger question the value of free will, this may reflect an abnormally low opinion of human freedom on their part. With this in mind, let us consider the brief statement of the free will theodicy that I offered in my opening statement.

Free will theodicies are attempts to explain why God might permit moral evil. They’re based on two central ideas:

(1) A world containing free beings is better than a world without free beings, since only free beings can genuinely love, or choose the good, or be moral in any meaningful sense.

(2) True freedom entails that we also be free not to love, or to choose the bad.

On this view, moral evil is a misuse of moral freedom. So genocide, and child abuse, and rape—these would be evils that result from a misuse of freedom. But otherwise, freedom is a wonderful gift.

I offered a more complete treatment of freedom in my rebuttal, but Weisberger only comments on my opening statement. Referring to the two central ideas listed above, she remarks:

Of course, both of these claims are highly questionable. Why is it the case that a world with free will is better than a world without? How is the value of free will quantified so as to make such a claim? What measurements would be used to determine that free will is so intrinsically valuable that without it our lives would somehow be diminished? Considering that god itself does not have free will, namely the ability to even choose to do evil since god is perfectly good, it does not seem that it is really such a boon to existence.

And, does true freedom really entail the choice to choose evil? If we had the choice between very good, good, and uneventful actions, would that not be a real choice? Is it not a real choice if I am only choosing between oatmeal and Frosted Flakes for breakfast? Could not free will also refer to the ability to choose to act, and not necessarily to commit the act? (As in choosing to create a plan to do evil, but not have the ability to carry out the plan?) If so, then is not having the ability to fly, no matter how hard we flap our arms, a limitation on free choice? In other words, is ‘true freedom’ the same as absolute freedom? If so, then we do not have that now.

This hardly qualifies as a refutation of free will theodicies. Let’s take each of her criticisms in turn.

(1) “Why is it the case that a world with free will is better than a world without?”

As I said, only free beings can genuinely love, or choose the good, or be moral in any meaningful sense. But Weisberger ignores this simple point without commenting. If she finds it difficult to understand why free will is important, she only needs to ponder the plight of the women of Stepford.

(2) “How is the value of free will quantified so as to make such a claim? What measurements would be used to determine that free will is so intrinsically valuable that without it our lives would somehow be diminished?”

Notice that Weisberger is merely pointing to the fact that value judgments cannot be quantified in the manner in which, say, weight or height can be quantified. Yet the same is true of the value of human suffering. Hence, if value judgments are going to be inadmissible in arguments, atheists must drop the Argument from Evil.

(3) “Considering that god itself does not have free will, namely the ability to even choose to do evil since god is perfectly good, it does not seem that it is really such a boon to existence.”

Here Weisberger demonstrates some confusion as to what free will is. She defines free will as “the ability to choose evil,” which is a complete misunderstanding. We can correct this error by distinguishing between two different levels of free will. On one level, freedom of will means the ability to choose what we want to do. I have the option of going to see two different movies tonight, and I choose one over the other, because that’s the one I prefer. No one forces me to make a choice against my will. Notice that the Stepford wives would have at least some freedom on this level. That is, the Stepford wife chooses to get her husband some nachos, not because he forces her, but because she wants to please him.

But this brings us to a second level of freedom. A Stepford wife does exactly what she wants to do, but the reason she wants to do it is that she was programmed to have a specific will. Now that she has this specific will, she is free to do as she chooses. But would we say that this freedom is genuine? Of course not. I would argue that first-level freedom is only meaningful if we are not programmed (i.e. we must also have second-level freedom).

With this in mind, does God have free will? Since God can certainly do what he wants to do, he has first-level freedom. Moreover, since he was not programmed by anyone to have a certain will, God also has second-level freedom.

So God clearly has free will. Why, then, does Weisberger define freedom as “the ability to choose evil”? Her misunderstanding here is based on the difference between humans and God. If God programs a human being to choose certain things over others, then that person does not have true freedom. Hence, if a person is going to have true freedom, he must be able to do things that do not accord with the will of God. To choose something which is against God’s will would be evil. This means that if humans are to be free, they must have the ability to choose evil. But to apply this rule to God would be a mistake. Weisberger is saying, in effect, “God cannot choose to do that which is against God’s will,” which is true but meaningless, and has nothing to do with free will.

(4) “And, does true freedom really entail the choice to choose evil?”

As we have seen, true freedom consists of two criteria: (i) the ability to choose according to your will, and (ii) a will that is not programmed by someone else. Thus, for human beings to be free, we must not be programmed by God. If we are not programmed by God, then we are free to act against his will. If we are free to act against his will, then, for humans, true freedom entails the ability to choose evil. (Note: This doesn’t mean that we must choose evil, only that we have the ability.)

(5) “If we had the choice between very good, good, and uneventful actions, would that not be a real choice? Is it not a real choice if I am only choosing between oatmeal and Frosted Flakes for breakfast?”

One might reasonably argue that choosing an “uneventful” action over a “very good” action would be evil, since we would be choosing something worse over something better. (Yes, Dr. Weisberger, it’s quite easy to play with definitions. But it doesn’t really move the argument forward.) I would agree that choosing one breakfast over another is a choice, but this is hardly meaningful freedom. To illustrate, let’s return to The Stepford Wives. Suppose a husband says, along with Dr. Weisberger, “Well, one freedom is as good as the next. So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to program my wife to obey me in all matters related to cleaning, sex, and other types of service. But I will give her the freedom to choose her own breakfast. Is this not true freedom?” No, it’s not. And a programmed wife isn’t very far from a blow-up doll.

(6) “Could not free will also refer to the ability to choose to act, and not necessarily to commit the act? (As in choosing to create a plan to do evil, but not have the ability to carry out the plan?) If so, then is not having the ability to fly, no matter how hard we flap our arms, a limitation on free choice? In other words, is ‘true freedom’ the same as absolute freedom? If so, then we do not have that now.”

Here I can’t help but think that Dr. Weisberger must have traveled a long way from her field of expertise. There is an obvious distinction between freedom of will and freedom of action. To have free will is to have the ability to choose what we want to do. To have freedom of action is to have the ability to carry out what we decide to do.

Weisberger implies that God could have made us so that we have the freedom to choose evil, but not the ability to carry out our evil plans. To some extent, that is what God has done. Suppose, just for fun, that John Loftus gets carried away with one of his “I-don’t-understand-why-God-would-create-anything” arguments. Obsessed with the idea that the world is an awful place that should not exist, John decides to melt the entire universe. Can he do it? Of course not.

But here Dr. Weisberger would respond, “Well, why take away our ability to do anything wrong?” Now let’s try to figure out what this could mean. People kick and stab one another. If God were to take away our ability to do these things, it would mean either (1) that God takes away our legs and our ability to form weapons, or (2) that God performs a miracle whenever we decide to do one of these things. If Dr. Weisberger says that God should do (1), I would reply that this is absurd. We could also head-butt each other, so God would have to remove our heads as well. So she is left with (2), and I would have a couple of objections to raise. First, a world where we are free to will whatever horrible things we choose, but where we can never carry out our evil intentions, is a world without moral development. Think about it. The reason we want people to develop morally is so that they won’t do certain things. But if we take away their ability to do anything immoral, we have thereby taken away the need for moral development. People could be evil to the core, and there would be no reason to encourage any change. Hence, if morality is important (and I would say that it is), Dr. Weisberger’s point fails. (But we’ll have more to say about morality when we discuss soul-building theodicies.)

Second, a world of constant miracles would have a significant effect not only on freedom of action, but on freedom of will as well. We would know, beyond all doubt, that God exists. Most atheists seem to think that if God exists, he should immediately appear to us. But more careful thinkers, such as Immanuel Kant, have noted that undeniable proof of God’s existence would destroy morality. I have explained this elsewhere, but I will repeat the argument here.

Suppose you’re walking down the street, and you find a purse filled with money. Some people would return the purse to its owner, while some would keep it. Those who return it would be doing the right thing for the right reason. Those who keep it would be doing the wrong thing, and they would be acting from a wrong motive. Now let’s change the situation. Suppose you’re walking down the street, and you find a purse full of money, but there’s a police officer standing there watching you. At this point, all of us would do the right thing. We would all return the purse. But we would be returning it because there was a police officer standing there, not because it was the moral thing to do. Moreover, even people who would have returned it anyway would now be returning it, at least in part, because there was a police officer standing there. That is, they would never be faced with the decision of whether to keep it or return it, and so they would never even have the opportunity to perform an action of genuine moral worth.

Now what would happen if God started going around intervening whenever we did something wrong? Well, everyone would be convinced that God exists. That would be good, wouldn’t it? But at what cost? Everyone would know that we’re all being watched at all times. We would all know that there is a cosmic policeman everywhere we go—an all-knowing, all-seeing policeman, ready to zap us whenever we mess up. Yes, our behavior would be much better than it is now. But our actions would have no moral worth at all. We wouldn’t be acting for the right reasons. We’d be acting out of fear—fear of getting zapped. Thus, once again we find that the atheist’s suggestion, if carried out by God, would destroy something that many people find extremely important.

And now we may simply turn Dr. Weisberger’s mode of questioning back upon her. How does one quantify the value of morality, or of freedom of will, or of freedom of action? Who are you to say that the world would be better off if we were stripped of the very things that make life most valuable? How can you expect people to think that a world of programmed wives and programmed husbands would be better than the world we have now?

The point of these questions is simple. As we saw in a previous post, the burden of proof in the Argument from Evil is on the atheist. It is not the theist who must show that freedom is valuable, since we already know that it is. It is rather the atheist who must show that the very things we hold most dear are, when compared to pain and pleasure, not valuable at all. But many people simply won’t be persuaded by such hedonistic thinking.

This isn’t to say, of course, that the importance of freedom justifies all suffering. I’m not arguing that, nor do I even believe it. We must always take the Problem of Evil quite seriously, because human suffering is a terrible thing. But at the same time, atheists should take the value of freedom seriously. That is, when theists point to the value of free will as a good of our world, atheists shouldn’t casually dismiss the claim with a series of flawed questions. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what Dr. Weisberger does.

A Reply to Andrea Weisberger, Part Four: Theistic Personalism, Classical Theism, and Compulsive Correctomania

[This is the fourth part of my reply to Dr. Andrea Weisberger's critique of my arguments in the first Loftus-Wood debate.]

As I have pointed out in previous posts, a person’s arguments often reveal something about his or her mode of thinking. In “Sophie’s Choice and Andrea’s Scorn,” for instance, we saw that Dr. Weisberger seems to criticize my claims even when there are no mistakes whatsoever. Another error on her part will serve as a brief introduction to two different camps of theists, who respond to the Argument from Evil quite differently.

In my opening statement, I was careful to point out that the arguments I would be using were by no means the only arguments theists could offer in response to suffering. Indeed, there were entire categories of responses that I would not be using. As an example, I pointed to a distinction between two views known as classical theism and theistic personalism. Theistic personalists believe that God is a person—that is, God is like us, only much more powerful and intelligent. Classical theists are quite different. They reject the view that God is a person. Thus, God is not the sort of being who might come to our rescue if we fall into a pit. To think of God in this way is, according to classical theists, shear anthropomorphism.

Most theists writing on apologetics today are theistic personalists, and this is the view I lean towards (although I sympathize with classical theists). This is quite relevant for discussions of the Argument from Evil, for if classical theists are correct, most of the atheist’s complaints make no sense at all. If God is not the sort of being who might come to our rescue, because God is not like us, then it makes no sense to say, “Why didn’t God protect me when I fell into a pit?”

Classical theists and theistic personalists agree that God is all-knowing, all-powerful, and wholly good. The notion of personhood, however, means that these attributes are interpreted differently. As I said in the debate, when someone like Thomas Aquinas (a paradigm classical theist) said that God is good, he didn’t mean that God is an extremely well-behaved person. Classical theists don’t view God as a moral agent. When a theistic personalist, on the other hand, says that God is good, he means, among other things, that God’s behavior is exceptionally good.

The point of these opening remarks was to show that atheists shouldn’t presume that, if they defeat one theist’s collection of responses to the Argument from Evil, they have thereby refuted all theists. I don’t agree with classical theists when they respond to the Argument from Evil, but I recognize that their position is immune to certain challenges which I, as a personalist, must face.

Dr. Weisberger responded to these comments with some extraordinarily odd remarks:

Wood argues that the concept of god’s goodness is not a claim about personal behavior, but about essential features. Despite a misplaced reference to Thomas Aquinas’ pronouncement that ‘god is good’ (since Aquinas was loathe to apply moral predicates in any meaningful sense to god) this concept is abandoned.

That was her assessment of my comments, but there are a few problems in her dismissal. First, she says that I argue that God’s goodness is not a claim about behavior. This is, of course, false. I merely stated that this is the position of classical theists, and I specifically said that I lean towards personalism.

Second, Dr. Weisberger says that I was wrong to claim that Thomas Aquinas referred to God as “good,” since he was “loathe to apply moral predicates in any meaningful sense to god.” Here Dr. Weisberger has, quite surprisingly, confused Aquinas with certain other medieval theologians. Consider the following quotation from Aquinas, and judge whether I made a mistake in saying that he held that God is good:

We should especially associate goodness with God. For something is good in so far as it is desirable. But everything desires its perfection, and an effect’s perfection and form consists in resembling its efficient cause (since every efficient cause produces an effect like itself). So an efficient cause is desirable and may be called good because what is desired from it is that the effect share its goodness by resembling it. Clearly then, since God is the first efficient cause of everything, goodness and desirability belong to him. (Summa Theologiae, Ia13.2, Brian Davies, tr.)

It is true that some medieval thinkers held that we can only describe God negatively, e.g. by saying what God is not (for instance, “God is not corporeal,” etc.). But Aquinas is not in this camp. He believed that when we say that God is good, or holy, or glorious, or powerful, we speak sensibly and meaningfully. But he also held that when we say that God is good, we don’t mean the same thing as when we say that Bob is good. We apply terms to God analogically, but this doesn’t mean that our words are meaningless. This is, however, exactly what I claimed in my opening statement when I said that goodness, for Aquinas, didn’t mean good behavior.

Finally, Dr. Weisberger says that, after my “misplaced” (yet completely accurate) reference to Aquinas, I “abandoned” the point. But the whole purpose of my comments was to call attention to a position that I wouldn’t be defending, so that the audience would understand that theists differ on this issue!

I think these details are quite significant. In my last post, I showed that Dr. Weisberger criticizes my comments on the movie Sophie’s Choice, when I had made no mistake at all. Indeed, in her response, Dr. Weisberger appealed to rule utilitarianism and deontological ethics without realizing that these frameworks were completely consistent with what I had said. And we find the same mistake today, where she attempts to correct my reference to Thomas Aquinas, and bases her correction on her own mistaken view!

The purpose of my response isn’t merely to point out a blunder on Dr. Weisberger’s part. Since she hasn’t taught philosophy in a while, it’s understandable that she might make a few errors here and there (and we all make them). The point I’d like to draw attention to is that she approaches the writings of theists with a hypercritical mindset, which compels her to find faults even where there aren’t any. If I were to name this mindset, I might call it “Compulsive Correctomania.”

I also think this is related to her stance on the Argument from Evil. As I noted in the first part of my response, Dr. Weisberger believes that the Argument from Evil shows that theists are simply irrational. Yet many prominent proponents of the argument reject such a strong view. The difference, I would suggest, is that Dr. Weisberger approaches the argument with a stronger bias against theism. I can’t see any other explanation for why a PhD philosopher would respond to my arguments with errors regarding ethical issues and medieval philosophy that any good first year philosophy major would be able to spot.

A Reply to Andrea Weisberger, Part Three: Sophie’s Choice and Andrea’s Scorn

[This is the third part of my reply to Dr. Andrea Weisberger's critique of my arguments in the first Loftus-Wood debate.]

When theists respond to the Argument from Evil, certain objections are to be expected. For instance, if the theist points to the value of free will, it makes sense for the atheist to question whether this really solves the problem. Nevertheless, some atheist objections are entirely unexpected. As odd as such objections seem, however, they often tell us something quite valuable about the atheist’s mode of thinking.

In my opening statement during my first debate with John Loftus, I noted that there is a difference between an intellectually satisfying response and an emotionally satisfying response. To illustrate, I described a powerful scene in the movie Sophie’s Choice. Sophie is standing in line, waiting to enter a concentration camp during World War II. She has her two small children with her, and she pleads with one of the guards to release her. The guard, however, puts Sophie in one of the most difficult moral dilemmas we could imagine. He tells her that one of her children has to die, and that Sophie must choose the child who dies. If she doesn’t choose, both of her children will be killed.

Sophie says that she can’t possibly make such a choice, and she begs the man to reconsider. But he orders his men to take both children. When the soldiers come to take the children to the death chamber, Sophie cries out, “Take my daughter!” So the Nazis take Sophie’s screaming daughter to the furnace. Sophie’s son is later taken to the children’s camp. At the end of the movie (I apologize for the plot spoiler), Sophie commits suicide. She could never forgive herself for sending her own daughter to be burned in a furnace.

In the debate, after explaining Sophie’s dilemma, I added the following:

Now here’s where we can see the difference between an intellectual struggle and an emotional struggle. On an intellectual level, there was nothing wrong with what Sophie did. She was forced to make that decision. But emotionally, she could never forgive herself. I think that responses to the Problem of Evil are analogous to that. Even if we find answers that are sufficient on an intellectual level, this may do nothing to overcome the pain we feel when we experience tragedy and loss.

The point, then, is that there are different versions of the Problem of Evil. There is what we might call the Intellectual Problem of Evil, where we try to reconcile certain propositions with other propositions. But there is also the Emotional Problem of Evil, which concerns how to comfort people who are suffering. In a debate, we are dealing with the intellectual aspect of the problem. My point was that we should be careful to note the difference between (1) rejecting an argument because it doesn’t make sense, and (2) rejecting an argument because it doesn’t comfort us in our pain. Debates are designed to deal with intellectual issues; relationships and counseling are better areas for dealing with emotional issues.

Whether a person agrees with me or disagrees with me that debates should deal with intellectual problems, however, is beside the point here. Andrea Weisberger took issue not with my contention that debates aren’t the place for the Emotional Problem of Evil, but with my claim that Sophie was morally blameless. Consider Dr. Weisberger’s reasoning here:

Wood argues that on intellectual grounds, but perhaps not emotional, there is a reason for suffering. He uses the example of the plot in the film Sophie’s choice. Sophie, while standing in line to the gas chambers with her two small children, must select one child over another to save -- under duress from a Nazi. If she fails to select one, all three will die. If she plays the Nazi’s cruel game, two of them live. She chooses her son and sends off her daughter to die. Wood claims that this was an acceptable intellectual choice, though emotionally devastating. In the film, Sophie eventually commits suicide.

However, is such a choice justified on intellectual moral grounds? Is it the case that we have some definitive framework for determining a morally correct choice here? And if so, is there obvious evidence for adopting an act utilitarianism over a rule utilitarian or even deontological approach -- which might claim that since all human lives are infinitely (or even equally valuable) one cannot then choose between them? To make this claim, and in light of the background of Nazi insanity, implies that there was a logically coherent and correct response to the Nazi proposition of choosing to save one of your children and condemn the other to death. This is not a rational proposition, and there is no rationally based correct response to such horror. There is not even a moral framework, let alone a meaningful language external to the incoherence of the Holocaust, to judge the actions of the film’s protagonist.

I was, quite frankly, flabbergasted at this response. Atheists who present the Argument from Evil typically portray themselves as the sympathetic participants in the debate, while theists are cast as cold-hearted monsters who can’t fathom what people go through. But here we have Weisberger arguing that, in sympathizing with Sophie’s decision, I’ve made a tremendous blunder. The error, however, belongs entirely to Dr. Weisberger.

While I find it difficult to believe that anyone would be required to make a case for Sophie’s moral justification, so be it. What alternatives was Sophie left with? One, she could do nothing, in which case both of her children would be killed. Two, she could choose one of her children to die, in which case one of her children would live. (We could posit another alternative, where Sophie tries to grab a Nazi’s gun and dies along with her children, but we’ll limit the options to two.)

Dr. Weisberger seems to agree that Sophie would be justified if we adopt an act utilitarianism framework. According to act utilitarians, an act is justified if it results in a better state of affairs than alternative acts. But Weisberger apparently thinks that Sophie’s decision wouldn’t be justified on a rule utilitarian or deontological framework. This simply isn’t the case, however. According to rule utilitarianism, an act is right if it accords with certain rules that are known to result in better states of affairs. Now here’s a rule: Protect your children as much as possible. Appealing to such a rule, one might argue as follows: “If Sophie doesn’t choose which of her children will die, both children will die. Hence, the only way to save a child (i.e. the only way to act in accordance with the rule we have laid out) is to choose one of her children to die.” Sophie, then, was morally justified. (An atheist might respond that choosing to send one of her children to die would violate our rule; but this isn’t the case. Both children stand condemned already. Unless Sophie acts, both children will be sent to their deaths. Hence, the only power Sophie has in such a situation is to save a child who is about to die, and she does.)

But what about deontological ethics? Deontological systems emphasize duties over outcomes. That is, what matters most is not the result of your act, but whether you acted from the appropriate motive. So let’s lay down a duty: People ought to protect their children as much as possible. By appealing to duty, Sophie’s defender could reason thus: “Sophie has a duty to protect her children. But in this situation, she can either protect one child, or neither child. Duty demands that she protects her children as much as possible, which means that she must save one of her children. Hence, in making her choice, Sophie does her duty, and is therefore morally justified.”

Dr. Weisberger could raise two objections here. First, she could argue that if Sophie refrains from making a decision, the Nazis will kill both of her children, yet she wouldn’t have sent them to die, whereas, if she chooses which of her children will die, she plays an active role in that child’s death. But this would be a poor understanding of the situation. In this situation, not making a choice is a choice. That is, in not choosing which child will die, Sophie is choosing to allow both children to die, when she has the opportunity to save one of them. Thus, either way, Sophie make a choice, and the best choice is the one that saves a life.

Second, Dr. Weisberger might claim that, although Sophie was justified in choosing to save one of her children, she was not justified in choosing to save her son rather than her daughter. But what sense would it make to say, “Yes, you’re justified in choosing one of your children to live, but you’re not justified in choosing a particular child to live.” I would argue that, in such a forced, momentous decision, with no opportunity for careful deliberation, Sophie would be morally justified in choosing either child. But if Dr. Weisberger wants to grasp at straws, we could argue that Sophie was justified in choosing her son over her daughter. Her son, for instance, was older and more likely to survive in a concentration camp than her daughter.

Hence, given the situation Sophie was in and the alternatives available to her, I simply cannot fathom how Dr. Weisberger could object to my claim that Sophie was morally justified in the choice she made. But I think this tells us something about Dr. Weisberger’s approach to the Argument from Evil and to my response. It seems that Dr. Weisberger isn’t examining theistic replies and merely drawing attention to genuine weaknesses. Rather, she is attacking every claim indiscriminately, even if the theist is completely correct. (We’ll see more of this in the next post.) Further, Dr. Weisberger’s response to my claim about Sophie should cause us to question her ability to examine theodicies objectively. Theodicies are attempts to show that God is morally justified in allowing suffering in our world. But if Dr. Weisberger rejects the idea that Sophie was morally justified even though she took the best alternative available to her, what are we to think when Dr. Weisberger rejects the idea that God is morally justified in choosing one alternative over another? Apparently, no matter what Sophie chose to do, Dr. Weisberger would find fault, just as she would find fault no matter what God chose to do. Ironically, the point of the Sophie's Choice illustration was that we shouldn't let our feelings cloud our judgment.