Yesterday I surveyed a whole category of arguments for theism, the “Science Needs God” complex. And I concluded by mentioning a (sort of) new one, by a well-credentialed professor of philosophy, Tomas Bogardus (another fashionable Protestant convert to Catholicism): “If Naturalism Is True, Then Scientific Explanation Is Impossible,” in Religious Studies 59.1 (2022). I also watched a video on Capturing Christianity (hosted by Cameron Bertuzzi) where Bogardus discusses this paper for over an hour, so I could be sure I’m reading him right. And, yeah. I am.

I have noted before that even peer-reviewed philosophy as a field is full of bad philosophy. In my randomized survey of three examples I found only one was solid, and even it under-cited the pertinent science; another half failed and half succeeded; and the third should never have passed any reliable peer review. I’ve dealt with even wholly harebrained examples (from The Blondé-Jansen Argument from Consciousness to my whole series on Thought Experiments). Peer review in philosophy is better than nothing, but the field lacks a reliable standard for what should pass. And the Bogardus thesis shouldn’t have, and for much the same reason: it contains demonstrable fallacies of reasoning; and it ignores all the contradicting science of today. No philosophy should ever pass that does either.

The approach of Tomas Bogardus is quasi-Thomist and thus already starts from a bankrupt methodological framework (see Thomism: The Bogus Science). But we’ll treat his argument on his own terms anyway. His abstract correctly describes it thus:

  1. Any scientific explanation can be successful only if it crucially involves a natural regularity.
  2. Any explanation can be successful only if it crucially involves no element that calls out for explanation but lacks one.
  3. Therefore, a scientific explanation can be successful only if it crucially involves a natural regularity, and this regularity does not call out for explanation while lacking one.
  4. If Naturalism is true, then every natural regularity calls out for explanation but lacks one.
  5. Therefore, if Naturalism is true, then no scientific explanation can be successful.

He then concludes, “If you believe that scientific explanation can be (indeed, often has been) successful, as I do, then this is a reason to reject Naturalism.” In Bayesian terms: since e is “Scientific explanation can be (indeed, often has been) successful,” then, given his argument’s conclusion that (as a hypothesis) “Naturalism” predicts no scientific explanation can be successful, P(e|naturalism) is low, whereas it would be high on any suitably formulated nonnaturalism—like theism, the only alternative Bogardus proposes—and therefore this e is evidence against naturalism and for (at least some form of) nonnaturalism; and Bogardus gives reasons why that would be most likely some form of theism.

One could quibble over that, e.g. Taoism would fully succeed at providing a suitable nonnatural cause, yet involves no personal consciousness, and would out-perform theism because it lacks all of theism’s explanatory defects. It’s even simpler as a supernatural alternative because in its most ancient formula, the Tao’s full gamut of powers and properties evolve inevitably from simpler originations, rather than (as with most gods still believed in today) just conveniently existing de novo without cause. And this is all vastly more so for any variety of theism I’ll bet Bogardus has any interest in believing. Theists today typically forget that their version of supernaturalism is historically and innately extremely bizarre and not at all exhaustive of available worldviews.

Since Bogardus never presents any formal argument that the nonnaturalism that must replace naturalism has to even be theism, much less whatever specifically weird form of it he wants you to buy into, his paper isn’t really an argument for God. It intends to be, but only by sloppily (and ethnocentrically) assuming his peculiar cultural shibboleth is the only solution left. So I will only treat his paper as what it formally contains, which is only an argument against naturalism. But I’ll assume he is at least proposing God as an alternative hypothesis, and thus critique that as well.

I have also written the conclusion here as a complete brief of this article, so for those who want the TL;DR and just get a summary of what’s wrong with Bogardus’s paper before going back and reading through the details, you can jump to the end. But for those who want to go on the journey, read on.

Science Illiteracy

A leading problem among Christian apologists today is an inexplicable, and inexcusable, science illiteracy. We find this plaguing nearly their every argument. For example, see Plantinga’s Tiger and Other Stupid Shit. Failing to grasp even rudimentary science is common in Christian arguments that ignore how evolution works, how biochemistry works, how thermodynamics works, even how physics works, or cosmology; and ignores what we know from other sciences, too, like anthropology, sociology, psychology, and cognitive science. Common examples: theists almost never correctly describe the Second Law of Thermodynamics (see Justin Brierley on the Science of Existence), or Evolution or Protobiology (see Three Common Confusions of Creationists), or the latest Cosmological theories (see My Fourth Reply on the KCA).

An example shows up in the Capturing Christianity interview, around minute 43, where Bogardus reveals he doesn’t know that the Gravitational constant doesn’t actually exist: it’s just a unit converter, from arbitrary British “feet” and “seconds” to the physically smallest natural units. And much else: he doesn’t know that inverse square laws are logically entailed by local geometry; that masses multiply their force interactions because that’s just iterated addition from every particle in a mass interacting with every other; that the reason the electron charge equals one is that humans decided to count it that way (change the electromagnetic force any way you want, the charge always stays 1 because that’s what we chose to count—a decision that created a problem when we discovered charges actually do have fractions; what Bogardus I think wants here is something else called the fine-structure constant, which determines the strength of a charge); and so on. One could give scientifically literate examples of what Bogardus wants to say. There are things about physics we have not yet explained, and there might be something that possibly has no further explanation at all, like the fundaments of quantum mechanics. But that Bogardus can’t come up with one is a red flag: he doesn’t know what he is talking about.

It is the first responsibility of any philosopher who intends to pontificate on a point of fact to become acquainted with the state of science pertaining. But Christians just don’t. Even after being shown their mistakes, often they will come up with reasons why they get to ignore all the findings of science, rather than realize and admit that their beliefs and arguments need to be in alignment with the findings of science. Bogardus didn’t walk across the hall and ask a scientist if his description of science actually is how science works. Is it the case that “Any explanation can be successful only if it crucially involves no element that calls out for explanation but lacks one”? No. This is not a component of any scientific standard in any field. We have never needed any explanation to be complete in order to be successful. That’s how we built a technological civilization that would be described as magic by any ancient observer: by not needing our explanations to be complete to be accurate and correct, and thus successful. So Bogardus’s whole premise is bogus. It’s pseudoscience.

But it’s even worse than that. When in his set-up Bogardus opines about a passage in Aristotle—already a reliance on which is a Thomist affectation illustrative of Bogardus’s pseudoscientific (indeed outright medieval) methodology throughout this paper—we see he has practically abandoned everything modernity has taught us (and Philosophy Must No Longer Do That). Aristotle was impressively right about many things; he is the father of modern science, after all. But he was also wrong about a lot of things. Indeed, Aristotle was proved wrong about a lot of things by his own students, within just a century or two of his time. By now, modernity has moved on, to a better and more accurate understanding of everything Aristotle wrote about (such that, philosophically, we can retain only a skeleton of some of his core ideas: see Why A Neo-Aristotelian Naturalism Is Probably True).

Missed Memo: Aristotle Is Obsolete

This matters. For example, Bogardus seems impressed by Aristotle’s argument that the fact that it rains in winter when needed and abates in summer when needed cannot be explained by chance accident but only by some sort of final purpose—some kind of “design.” Likewise the fact that teeth grow reliably in the same format in most people (and thus deformities are rare). Aristotle was actually face-palmingly wrong about every component of these arguments. Bogardus should be correcting Aristotle here, not trying to build on him. All philosophy is worthless that ignores all advances in science since Aristotle.

Aristotle did not know about equatorial climates (where this attribute of seasonality is not true of rain) or how the tilt of the Earth necessarily causes the rain observations he was familiar with; or how that tilt is a chance accident, which isn’t being “randomly reset” every year because the Earth is darned big and its angular momentum gargantuan, and nothing is around that could alter it. Likewise, Aristotle didn’t know about DNA and how it stores naturally selected instructions for building teeth a certain way, such that the Empedoclean theory Aristotle thought he was refuting (that natural selection causes teeth to grow in the format they do in human mouths) is actually correct—Empedocles just didn’t know information was being preserved across generations, through a microscopic molecular process, which is not controlled by any intelligence but fully operates by the very processes of chance and necessity Aristotle was trying to deny (indeed fully explaining why deformities even exist, and why the “design” in humans, plants, and animals is so inconsistent and ad hoc—and has changed, and absurdly slowly, over deep time, going from simple to complex over a period of billions of years).

Taking DNA for a moment: the idea that this stored-information transfer could be the case would not arise in any of Aristotle’s successors, so far as we know, until Galen five hundred years later. And even Galen only had a sketched-out surmise (about microscopically-stored computer programs in bodies being mechanically transferred to fetuses, sometimes causing transcriptional errors). And he still did not yet have an understanding of genetic physics, or how evolution by natural selection would explain how those computer programs got there, which is again by chance and necessity.

Galen was instead familiar with robotic theaters, a popular novelty built by scientific engineers of the time (we have descriptions in Hero of Alexandria’s Pneumatics and Automata). They functioned by having a hidden system of ropes and wheels and pulleys, arranged in a sequence, such that once you triggered it, it followed a programmed pattern of actions, like having robotic actors appear on stage and make the requisite movements, lighting fires and drawing and closing curtains at the correct time, and so on, producing a replication of an entire multi-act play. Galen thus inferred that maybe there was something like that: not literally pulleys and ropes, but some mechanical equivalent that, once triggered, causally replicated a human body, and was also hidden (in this case inside human fetuses, too small for the human eye to see). This, he concluded, would explain why deformities occur (something goes wrong with the mechanism), but rarely (usually the machinery works).

Galen assumed God must have built these micro-programs, but only because he didn’t know about evolutionary biochemistry: DNA is the rope, wheels, and pulleys. And it replicates, with occasional transcription errors, automatically. No intelligence involved. And over time, as Empedocles predicted, better and better programs are selected, by the bad ones getting more rapidly killed off, more quickly and more often (the science behind this now is vast). So Aristotle was wrong about teeth too. It was all just chance and necessity after all.

Aristotle’s ignorance cannot become an argument. And yet this is what Bogardus proceeds to do. We get a foreshadow in a footnote here where he thinks Alan Guth’s demurring on how he (personally) might go about explaining why all the laws of physics are as they are (or how theists would) means “he has no idea how to approach that question, because he was assuming that he would have to approach it as a Naturalist, and it’s hard to see how a Naturalist could give a scientific explanation…for a truly fundamental law of nature.” But we could do that (see, for example, Superstring Theory as Metaphysical Atheism and The Argument to the Ontological Whatsit and The Problem with Nothing; or, for another example, Victor Stenger’s The Comprehensible Cosmos, where he deduces most basic physical laws from a single supposition: that there is no privileged point of view, i.e. if no one existed to decide the laws of physics, then these are the laws we’d always have in result, and it is thus their lack of further explanation that causes them to be what they are). And had Guth been asked that question, he could have easily explained to Bogardus the entire field of Theory of Everything studies. Bogardus reveals he doesn’t know any of this. He’s not up on the pertinent science. And this tanks his entire argument.

Bogardus also doesn’t know that the reason Guth finds God theories unworkable is that they make no differential predictions. They are pseudoscientific, because they start with physics as-is and simply build God’s decisions and motives around that (producing “just so” stories, which you then have to keep changing as new scientific facts are discovered), rather than (as would be required for a real scientific theory) starting with the God hypothesis and successfully deducing from it specific unique features of physics (like why there are twelve different quarks, or their exact masses and properties, or why biological order requires billions of years of a meandering random walk to generate), particularly new ones not yet discovered (the gold standard of scientific proof for any theory). There is a reason every God hypothesis failed to predict the vast age and size of the universe, the entire history of evolution, and even the existence of a quark. It makes no predictions. It’s just a giant Texas Sharpshooter Fallacy.

But Bogardus doesn’t appear to understand what a scientific theory is or how the scientific method works—nor does he know any of the science relevant to his thesis. He didn’t even know “Theory of Everything” is an actual field of study in physics. But worse than all that, because he doesn’t know any of that, he doesn’t realize Aristotle’s entire methodology is thereby proved invalid. You can’t argue “I see no reason for these regularities, therefore they must be by design.” That’s exactly the backwards medieval error-mode the Scientific Revolution was all about abandoning, and explaining why it must be. Aristotle was wrong to jump to that inference, because background knowledge entails it will too routinely not turn out the way he is inferring, owing to the alternative explanation of ignorance. Since it almost always turns out that there is an explanation for such things, the premise “I don’t see a reason for a regularity” renders the conclusion “therefore it must be by design” almost always false.

In Bayesian terms, e (“I don’t see a reason for a regularity”) is actually not at all likely on h (“It was designed that way”) but extremely likely on ~h (“there will turn out to be some combination of chance and necessity that explains it”). This is why Naturalism Is Not an Axiom of the Sciences but a Conclusion of Them. Any scientist could have explained this to Bogardus or his peer reviewers.

And Then It’s Error All the Way Down

Rather than master any needed science literacy, and thus learn that the Argument from Ignorance is a fallacy, and that the scientific method requires positive evidence for a specified explanatory model and rejecting drawing conclusions about the unknowable (if you have no explanatory model, or no specific evidence for your model as against others, you cannot claim to know what the explanation is), Bogardus literally says, “So, for Empedocles,” per Aristotle, “something that seems to call for explanation in fact has none. That’s a cost. And that’s Aristotle’s insight.” Which is literally saying this: because Aristotle was completely wrong and his inference model therefore completely unreliable, therefore we should copy Aristotle’s inference model and reach Aristotle’s conclusions anytime we are in the same epistemic position he was. Thus Bogardus is basically saying “Aristotle didn’t know how planetary tilt and DNA explains seasons and teeth, and thus incorrectly inferred chance and necessity didn’t cause them; therefore anytime we don’t know the causes of a thing, we can correctly infer chance and necessity didn’t cause them.”

Head spin? Yes. This is a face-palm moment. Bogardus documents a failed method, and concludes it’s a good method. And then proceeds to build his entire paper on that method, the method he actually just showed doesn’t work—because Aristotle was wrong; his method didn’t work. And if modern science has done nothing else, it has so thoroughly proved that that method doesn’t work that we can be reliably certain its results will never be correct. When we discover design, we do it by a sound method: which means, we start with an explanatory model, we look for differential evidence supporting that model over others, and when we find it, then—and only then—do we conclude “design.” Hence we are “right” when we find chiseled spearheads and conclude intelligent design caused them, not because we “lack” any chance-necessity explanation for them, but because we “have” an explanation that makes the features of that evidence far more probable than any known chance-necessity explanation. How chiseled spearheads come to exist and why—by human manufacture, for the function of stabbing, or by random or inevitable geological processes—entails differential likelihoods favoring design. It’s simply more probable they were made by people than by natural processes. And it is made more probable by evidence—not the absence of it.

Even when the absence of evidence is evidence (see my formal analysis in Proving History, pp. 117–19), it’s still a differential prediction: we know the Exodus never happened as described because that could not fail to generate quite a lot of physical evidence of mass human transit and habitance. As a theoretical model, it simply fails to predict the evidence, whereas the null hypothesis (that humans weren’t there en masse at any time relevant) predicts it perfectly (among much else: see A Test of Bayesian History: Efraim Wallach on Old Testament Studies). Assuming “design” always predicts the evidence better than alternatives is one of Three Common Confusions of Creationists. Because it’s based on their Texas Sharpshooter technique of always deciding on whatever elaborate theory would produce the evidence after the fact, rather than honestly asking if that theory is even probable—and being able to correctly explain why it is.

Thus Bogardus’s approach we have empirically shown almost always fails as a procedure. As with Aristotle: he ended up wrong about seasons and teeth; and so has gone pretty much every other deployment of his method in human history. The only time design gets reliably predicted is when, instead of arguing from ignorance, we argue from evidence. For example, as a Supreme Court justice once said, “Even a dog can tell the difference between being tripped over and deliberately kicked.” A dog is not aware that it has information, about people, emotions, patterns of behavior; but it nevertheless learns from that information what patterns correlate; and those correlations then become evidence for which causal model is correct, making one more probable than the other. And this is how humans actually detect design, such as in history or world affairs (and would detect it in other domains, such as SETI). When we have evidence for design being an operating cause, then—and only then—do we start to reliably discover it. That is the scientific method.

And any scientist could have explained this to Tomas Bogardus. And that should be the peer review standard. Philosophers who pontificate about science without even asking a scientist first (or at least consulting what they’ve written on the point) are bad philosophers. And they shouldn’t be able to pass peer review until they’ve proved they really met the conditions of this required step. And that means properly. Just talking to a biased creationist scientist, for example, or any other who conveniently is bad at this or doesn’t specialize in it, rather than surveying the entire field to find the best conclusions of scientific opinion (on such things as the rudiments of scientific method, for example, or the prospects of a Theory of Everything), is an invalid procedure. This is The Scary Truth about Critical Thinking: you have to try your darnedest to disprove your claims before you can justify believing them. Siloed ideology is just editorializing, not philosophy. Competent falsification tests have to be real tests. And that means not cherry picking your scientific advisers. It means honestly looking for any opposition’s steel man before reaching a conclusion. This should be the required method in all philosophy publications.

It is thus fatal to Bogardus’s paper that it contains no literature survey of leading scientific “ultimate explanations” (from M Theory to specific models like Stenger or Wolfram or Tegmark or Everett; or the likes of Lincoln and Wasser, on which see my conclusion below; and beyond). And he never examines the best of them as examples to apply his argument to, asking in what ways do these fail whereby theism does not. No paper making claims about such things without including such things should pass peer review. That’s like publishing a paper making unusual statements about the biology of crows, in which you never cite or discuss any actual science of corvid biology.

Where I Agree

Of course, Bogardus doesn’t have a theory, any more than Aristotle did. He quotes Aristotle’s hand-waving (essentially, what Aristotle said was, “How does the prime mover move anything? He just does.”) with approval (rather than correctly, as actually dodging the question). Just saying God “wants” to move things, and that this just magically “causes” them to move, is a non-explanation. Indeed, it’s a gigantic monstrosity of endless epicycles of non-explanations: see The Argument from Specified Complexity against Supernaturalism and Evan Fales’ thorough exploration of the problem of divine causation in Divine Intervention: Metaphysical and Epistemological Puzzles (Routledge 2010). There is a reason Aristotle’s second successor, Strato of Lampsacus, abandoned the idea of a Prime Mover—because it doesn’t work, and isn’t needed (see Why A Neo-Aristotelian Naturalism Is Probably True).

So one might then wonder if Bogardus is contradicting himself. If he doesn’t have a “complete” explanation either, then how can his conclusion that there is a Prime Mover be justified? Well, he could simply state that this is not a scientific explanation, but a philosophical one, and, once granted, it solves the scientific explanation problem; and that that is the reason we should adopt this philosophical conclusion. That would then make his argument a Fallacy of Special Pleading: he is claiming science is committed to a bizarre methodological requirement that other approaches to knowledge are not. And then stating no reason why. Which is what we’ll see in my next section leads to the core flaw in his argument. But apart from that, we can acknowledge that Bogardus is not saying he has a working Theory of Everything; he is saying he has a stand-in proposal that fills a gap between observation and scientific methodology that, if left unfilled, leaves scientific methodology inexplicable. That’s why this is another “Science needs God” argument. So we will have to tackle that argument as-is.

So, yes, his approach is convoluted, and ultimately bogus, but not because it is self-refuting. If it really were the case that we “could not” explain why a method worked “but for” God, that would be evidence for God. Imagine, for example, if petitions to the divine actually worked. For example, the prayer of a truly believing Christian, and only a truly believing Christian, actually could relocate a mountain on demand (but always only ever in alignment with the stated values of God, proving the power came from that God and not some wizard merely claiming it does); or if whenever we asked the Oracle at Delphi advanced physics questions, properly addressing Apollo for an answer, and were able to confirm empirically the Oracle was always correct. These would be methods hard to explain without some sort of at least quasi-divine agency. But no methods like this exist. Nor does modern scientific method require any (again, see The Myth That Science Needs Christianity). But though it lacks evidence, Bogardus’s theory isn’t self-contradictory, at least; so we can at least give it a shot.

I also won’t quibble with Bogardus’s “admittedly vague” definition of naturalism. He recognizes no one in the field can agree on one, and settles on a circular definition, whereby naturalism just means only natural causes exist, without explaining what makes a cause “natural.” One could do better than that (see my article Defining the Supernatural), and the effort to would expose flaws in Bogardus’s assumptions (the supernatural looks even less plausible the more substantively you try to define it). But for the purposes of this paper’s argument, his uninformative definition is adequate, as it includes any definition of naturalism more substantively defined—so if his conclusion carries, it carries for that, too.

I also won’t take too much issue with Bogardus’s archaic appeal to “laws of nature.” Because he is aware most science does not traffic in laws of nature per se. Psychology, sociology, anthropology, even botany, zoology, and geology involve a great deal of explanations not really formulatable as “laws.” Most of what science does is simply catalog what exists. And next after that, most of what it does is provide causal explanations, which do not have to be lawlike (they do not always require that certain conditions always produce certain outcomes). And a lot of what science has found everything reduces to is random (from scientific weather predicting to quantum mechanics); but even that, presumably, has a causal explanation—and that, Bogardus says, is close enough for what he means: there are things that beg explanation, whatever you call them.

For example, that the Mosuo people of China employ a system of open marriage whereby a mother raises her children with her brother, not their biological fathers, is a documented scientific fact; but it involves no law of nature. One can reductively explain it with laws of nature (anthropology reduces to sociology, which reduces to psychology, which reduces to biology, which reduces to neurochemistry, which reduces to biochemistry, which reduces to physics); but one does not have to. This fact of the Mosuo is a scientific fact regardless of whether or which laws of nature have anything to do with it. Likewise, anthropology and sociology do propose (and evince with evidence) certain economic, psychological, and sociological reasons why such marital systems arise instead of others, which are causal accounts, but they do not operate by anything like a “natural law.” Rather, they only attest what usually (not always) causes such outcomes, and require even for that just a basic notion of causation, not “laws” per se. That there just happen to be laws of physics underlying it all Is a Historical Conclusion of the Sciences as a Whole, not a necessary feature of any causal theory of specific human cultural developments.

But Bogardus asks us to be charitable and assume he means, simply, uniformities of nature. The Mosuo people don’t randomly wake up every day and start following a different system of marriage. Something maintains the persistence of the observation. Scientists appeal to the fixity of neurology, for example, and the documented ways limiting how (and how fast) it can change. These all assume regularities, whether involving fixed laws or not. Neurons don’t just “randomly reconfigure themselves” (at least not usually); social change requires certain processes of mass human thought; and so on. The magical notion of free will, as in a will wholly unimpacted by causation, has been documented not to exist, after all (elsewise we’d see all social customs, like ours or the Mosuo’s, dissolve overnight).

So if we set aside Bogardus’s archaic use of phrases like “laws of nature” and just replace that with a philosophical equivalent that correctly describes what scientists are doing, “natural uniformities” will suffice to qualify. This then includes “laws of nature” by any relevant definition, as well as mere “facts of nature,” and all explanatory causal models. “Why do things stay the same unless caused to change; and why do causes exist; and why do they always or usually operate a certain way,” can all be appealed to as a request for some sort of underlying “law(s) of nature” in this sense. As we’ll see, this just starts to look like another appeal to An Ontological Whatsit.

The Failure of the Bogardus Thesis

Things really go south at his Premise 2. Here Bogardus tries to insist that it “is a deficiency of a theory if the theory leaves [anything] unexplained,” e.g. if Archimedes’ Law of Buoyancy (see my pertinent discussion of that in All Godless Universes Are Mathematical) doesn’t explain the Big Bang and the Standard Model of Particle Physics and Quantum Mechanics and Einsteinian Relativity and the Periodic Table, then it is a deficient theory. This is hogswallop, of course. No scientist would recognize this as a requirement of any theory. The success of the scientific method is not determined this way, and never has been. So Bogardus wants to tell scientists how they do their jobs, without having a clue how they do their jobs. And he does this by building on what we just saw was Aristotle’s catastrophically failed method, instead of any actual scientific method.

So Bogardus’s second premise is simply false. His definition of “successful” has no recognizable place in modern science, and thus modern science (and the modern naturalism now based on it) is completely unaffected by his false declaration of its necessity. A scientific theory is successful simply insofar as it works. Does Archimedes’ causal model, based on observed facts, predict the sinking-or-floating behavior of different objects in a liquid? If yes, then that’s all it need do. The question of why the components of its causal model are that way (why is water not compressible; why does water weigh what it does; why do certain objects repel it and hold their shape; why is there even gravity and mass at all; etc.) is for other scientists to figure out. Naturalism is not the assumption that it can all be figured out without appeal to nonnatural entities or powers; it is a conclusion from having observed that it usually always turns out that way. Hence Naturalism Is Not an Axiom of the Sciences but a Conclusion of Them.

Naturalism has no necessary role to play in science; it is not a premise required by the scientific method, for example. Nor is it any criterion by which science’s success is measured. Had the supernatural existed, we’d still have all the marvelous success of science—and it would refute naturalism. We’d have faith-healing wings in hospitals and schools of wizardry. But that just isn’t the way it went. And that’s the reason we grant the prior probability is high that it’s going to turn out to be naturalism all the way down. Some of us might have additional reasons to suspect this (see The Argument from Specified Complexity against Supernaturalism), but even we start with the empirical finding. Only evidence can decide whether anything even resembling the supernatural exists. And so far, the evidence has consistently indicated it doesn’t.

This is why it is crucial that in a footnote Bogardus backtracks and explains that, really, what “I mean” is “that there is literally no explanation to be had,” not merely that we don’t have it yet. In other words, he isn’t really talking about science, or how it actually works, or what its own criteria of success are. What he is actually trying to do is pose an argument similar to mine against supernaturalism, that naturalist explanations are somehow impossible, and though he can’t produce a proof of this, he wants you to believe he can present evidence for this—as I did for the supernatural (probably) being impossible. But instead of just state that as his actual argument, he buries this mission in convoluted layers of other propositions…including crucially false ones.

And this is where his thesis most conclusively fails:

Bogardus’s entire argument depends on it being the case that “any incomplete explanation is unsuccessful.” But when he appeals to evidence that science is successful, he term-switches (a typical Equivocation Fallacy that should never pass peer review), changing what he means by “successful” back to the real one science actually uses: Does it make reliable predictions and does it continually, and testably, increase the body of such knowledge? That science can and does do that does not require that it be “successful” in this other, bizarre sense he just made up—that its every theory consist of a complete Theory of Everything explaining every single fact of existence. So he starts his argument with that definition of “successful,” but ends with a completely different definition of successful. This is really bad philosophy.

The Crucial Mistake

We can see this in Bogardus’s own example of explaining to his curious daughter why people say “God bless you” when someone sneezes. He answered that people just always do that; and then realized that’s a bad explanation. It leaves her with more questions—or rather, really, her same actual question: why do people do that? “They just do” is not an “incomplete” explanation; it’s a non-explanation. It just repeats her question back at her as a statement. This is the insight Bogardus failed to make; instead he got on this really weird idea about his explanation requiring a Theory of Everything (it doesn’t).

Of course, people don’t “always do this.” Saying “God bless you” to a sneezer is actually a historically recent and ethnographically peculiar behavior. Older and more common was simply to say “May you be well,” which is more obvious in its explanation, given the association of sneezing with illness, which used to be far more fatal, warranting wishing someone well when confronted with it, to signal your concern and compassion (or superstitious misbeliefs about the power of thought and word). “God bless you” is just a Christian colonization of this practice, sneaking “God” in where it never had any function before.

But the mistake Bogardus made is in thinking the reason his answer was unsatisfactory was that he couldn’t explain every single thing underlying that phrase all the way down to the Big Bang, Stellar Physics, and the Primordial Soup. But his daughter wasn’t asking that. All she wanted to know is why does a custom exist. If he had explained that, eventually (at some level of explanation) she would be satisfied and would require no further answer for the specific question of “Why do people do that?” The history of a custom, and the causes of human adherence to customs, are not “vacuous” explanations. They are not “unsuccessful.” They do not “fail to explain” why a behavior exists simply because they don’t keep going all the way to where photons come from, or spacetime, or logic.

And explanations do not “fail” simply because we couldn’t explain something many levels down the causal-historical chain. Say Bogardus and his daughter went back and forth on the causal-historical chain explaining sneeze customs and get to the level of explanation whereby “human brains” explains everything else all the way up to the sneeze custom. And suppose Bogardus and his daughter live in the 2nd century, and thus literally don’t know where brains come from, and thus, like Galen, fallaciously just assume, “Oh, well, Zeus makes those.” And when his daughter asks, “Why?” Bogardus answers, “Oh, well, he just wanted to.” And suppose he really thinks it stops there—that there is no further explanation why God wanted to do that, he “just did.” Or suppose Bogardus settles on, “It was just necessarily the case that God would want to do that,” but can’t produce any actual demonstration of why that would be necessarily the case; he just declares it must have been. Or even if Bogardus kept going—eventually he’s going to get to some point where there just is no explanation why God is that way, or even exists at all, or has any of the relevant powers for this causal explanation to work.

Does Bogardus’s historical explanation of the sneeze custom then become “unsuccessful”? Well, no. And good thing, too. Because, as we’ll see, everything Bogardus complains about regarding naturalism having to hit some inexplicable bottom like this is just as true of theism. It doesn’t perform any better. And thus theism, by Bogardus’s own reasoning, is also unsuccessful as an explanation. It either entails circularity, infinite regress, or some brute fact or inexplicably necessary being. In fact it’s worse, because he can’t deduce from “God exists” the sneeze custom at all, so God’s existing doesn’t even explain that. Whereas a naturalist explanation of sneeze customs does—because naturalists don’t require everything to be explained to explain any individual things. It’s only this weird theist by the name of Tomas Bogardus who does. And even if he makes a methodological exception for gods; that exception will apply to naturalism, too. “I’m not talking about science, but philosophy” rescues naturalistic explanation just as well as theistic. So all his talk about science specifically seems moot. All science does is explain particular things, and continue to crawl down the causal chain as far as it empirically can. The rest is always filled in by philosophy. So neither science nor naturalism requires Bogardus’s bizarre standard of success. They can establish the probability of their conclusions entirely without it.

Instead of catching this mistake in his own thinking, Bogardus proceeds with several paragraphs of digression having nothing to do with the question of whether science is successful in its actual sense, or whether it needs to be successful in this “other” sense. Why would it need to be successful in that sense? He never explains. Instead, eventually, after several pointless knots have been twisted around, he gets to simply trying to insist naturalism can never come up with a grounding explanation of reality. But if that’s his argument, he should have simply said so, and tried to make a direct case for it. Why all the verbal games? Why bury the lede like this?

Christian apologists’ propensity for this kind of behavior really annoys me. But now that we’ve stripped away thousands of words of impertinent baloney, maybe we can get to what his actual argument is?

The Failure of Bogardus’s Hidden Argument

Ultimately, Bogardus never makes any actual case for it being logically impossible for Naturalism to ground reality (we actually have plenty of working models of that), and he can’t make an empirical case, because the evidence consistently establishes the opposite: to borrow his analogy about explaining the Earth holding us up by appealing to a turtle holding the Earth up, we actually found the turtle the Earth rests on, and can actually see it’s turtles all the way down. It’s not a theory anymore; it’s an observation now. “But we can’t see the bottom, because it’s so far; so maybe there’s a dragon down there and it’s not just all turtles” is not a rational declaration when faced with this evidence. It looks like it’s all turtles. So…what evidence do you have that it stops at a dragon? [To be clear, this is now my analogy. The Dragon is God. I am not saying Dr. Bogardus argues there are dragons at the bottom of any turtles.]

Bogardus is thus flipping scientific method upside down, and rather than follow the actual scientific method and only derive beliefs from the evidence, he wants to declare all evidence irrelevant and claim that, even after crossing millions of hills, whenever we don’t know what’s on the other side of the next hill, we get to declare it’s a magical dragon. For…reasons? He never explains.

I’m sorry, but this should never pass peer review.

Bogardus wants the worry to be, somehow, that Naturalism can’t generate an infinite regress of explanations, and therefore “we need a dragon down there” (i.e. God). But that’s his second mistake: assuming the ultimate explanation has to be (figuratively) a dragon (i.e. God) and not a turtle (i.e. some natural fact or other). Bogardus examines all three possibilities for Naturalism (supplying here my own illustrative examples): that the explanations are indeed endless (infinitism: e.g. it’s turtles all the way down), that the explanations are ultimately circular (circularism: e.g. downward force bends in a circle and the Pillars of the Earth holding up the sky are in fact the legs of the last turtle), or that all explanation ends in some final brute fact, something that just exists for no reason (e.g. a final antigravity turtle that always falls up). But all of this analysis would hold for God as well (just swap G in for N and it’s all the same). Maybe God exists and his existence has an underlying infinite regress of explanations; maybe God created himself in some act of circular causation; or maybe God just exists for no reason. These are not logically impossible. And whichever one you choose is always going to leave something unexplained: why that thing (that infinite series, that circular causation, or that brute fact) and not something else?

One of the most common follies of Christian apologetics is to declare something impossible that isn’t. When someone makes a modal argument like “no explanation is possible,” we can refute that with only modal evidence—we need merely present a possibility. We don’t have to prove that explanation probable; we only need to present a possibility to refute the claim that there are none. So we commit no possibiliter fallacy if we do nothing more than that. “Possibly, therefore probably” is a fallacy; but “It’s possible, therefore it’s not impossible” isn’t.

Remember, Bogardus isn’t really arguing it is improbable that there will be a naturalist grounding to reality; and he can’t, because then he’d be talking about frequencies, and that makes it an empirical argument. And when we look at the actual frequency data, the rate of “it always turns out to be a natural explanation” is far beyond trillions to one now; in fact, so far, nonnatural explanations have scored exactly zero. You’d have to be pretty foolish to keep betting on that loser, right? So there is no rational case down that path. Bogardus must steer clear of it, lest he crash right into disaster. So he takes the other fork in the road and just insists “it’s impossible,” without presenting any evidence that it is. Does he survey all scientific and philosophical Theories of Everything and successfully rule them all out so as to argue that it might be impossible to come up with one? No. He doesn’t even consider a single one—and yet considering only a single one would be a Straw Man Fallacy anyway and thus still shouldn’t suffice to pass peer review; the more so, none at all.

I have already presented possible grounding explanations for Naturalism: from ten different ones in The Myth That Science Needs Christianity, to my favorite one in Superstring Theory as Metaphysical Atheism; and I explain why there is no barrier to coming up with more in The Argument to the Ontological Whatsit. And if your specific worry is “Where could it come from?” I’ve got a distinct possibility for you in The Problem with Nothing (which Christian apologists have struggled to find fault with). But there are countless others in the actual science of cosmology (see my debate with Wallace Marshall), all starting with brute facts far simpler than any God, and entirely naturalistic. So Bogardus can’t claim “it is impossible to come up with possible grounding explanations.” There are too many possible ones in evidence for such a declaration to stand. The evidence falsifies his theory.

But he doesn’t even look for that evidence. He literally just argues, “Aristotle said ignorance justifies belief in design; I see ignorance in the sciences; therefore, I get to believe in design.” That is the entire sum of his argument. He never examines any pertinent evidence regarding any component of the truth of that. I’m not kidding. He never asks whether there are possible Naturalist grounding models (much less considers any). He just says there can’t be. Yet he never presents any evidence that there can’t be. Even when he tries to defend the premise with his analogy about turtles holding up the Earth, he never explains how anything like that holds for Naturalistic explanations—e.g., he never presents any evidence that Naturalist explanation has to entail infinite regress, or that a Nonnaturalist explanation wouldn’t (likewise, circular or brute fact explanations).

So Bogardus never really establishes there to be any epistemic virtue lacking for Naturalism here that’s present for Nonnaturalism. What explains all the regularities of God? Brute fact? Infinite regress? Self-causation? That’s all the same stuff. And punting to “necessary being” gets you nowhere, because no such proof exists for God; so anything could qualify. Like an ultra-simple initial quantum vacuum; maybe that just necessarily exists. For example, in the Capturing Christianity interview (starting toward minute 52) Bogardus suggests his theory that “God creates sentient life because it is good” requires no further explanation. But…um, yes it does. Why is that good and not something else? Why does God care about what’s good? And why does goodness have any of the requisite causal powers here required? He’s just proposing another brute fact, another circular argument, that what he thinks is good “just is” good, for no reason; and moreover, he thinks “its being good,” merely thus, can somehow cause an entire bizarre superbeing to exist with a constellation of weird powers and bizarrely specific desires. Um, why? There is no explanation here. “Why would a dragon do any better than a turtle? It just does. Shut up.”

It’s only worse that God, as Bogardus is here formulating it, is then a bad explanation of observations. Because it fails by the actual standards of science: it predicts the opposite of everything we see. The universe is as poorly designed for life as it could be and still produce it; and even locally remains capriciously maleficent. The ground of all being seems conspicuously disinterested in any sentient good. So we should reject his theory, not embrace it. But even by his own bankrupt medieval method it’s a fail, because he still hasn’t explained why what he thinks is good “is” good in that sense (so this still “calls out for an explanation”), or (even more importantly) why its being good could cause a God to appear and have a lot of weird abilities (that, too, still “calls out for an explanation”). For example, I can produce an explanation for why consciousness is objectively good, but not in any way that would cause consciousness to exist—much less produce or explain a god (see The Objective Value Cascade). “I just feel like that needs no explanation” is not an explanation; it is, quite conspicuously, the absence of one. Yet that’s all Bogardus has (see the Capturing Christianity video, minute 52 to 53).

I cannot think of a more glaring logic fail than this. I struggle to understand how any peer reviewer would give this a pass. Why did none of them stop and say, “Wait, could you please present evidence for these assertions? Could you please at least survey some Naturalist theories you claim don’t exist or can’t work? Could you at minimum explain what your turtle analogy has to do with realistic, much less scientific, ontologies? And can you please prove how your alternative hypothesis survives any of the same objections, and not just handwavingly claim it does?” But, nope.

Oh No. Not Feser.

In a footnote Bogardus reveals his thesis is based on a claim made by Edward Feser. The guy who completely failed to rescue his position from Feser’s Five Proofs of the Existence of God: Debunked! even after two tries at bat (see Feser Can’t Read and Feser Still Can’t Read). Bogardus quotes Feser claiming that if A causally explains B and B causally explains C, if then we posit A (and thus, by extension, any underlying cause) as a brute fact, “then A has nothing to impart to B or C that could possibly explain their operation.” But if that were true, it would be true of God, as well. If God is just a brute fact, then, per Feser, God cannot even in principle explain anything. But few theists would grant such an absurd claim. Theists would be in a pickle if they did, of course, because all ontological arguments have failed, so theists currently lack any explanation of why a god would exist—much less their extremely bizarre version of one (this is, indeed, the Hidden Fallacy in the Fine Tuning Argument). But neither would any scientist grant Feser’s assertion regarding natural explanation either. Because it isn’t logical.

It could well be that a simple quantum mechanical principle underlies all existence and is a brute fact. But if that explains numerous bizarre and peculiar observations of physics, then in what way does it “have nothing to impart” to those facts by which to explain them? It explains them. Indeed, it would explain them so darned well at that point as to ensure it’s true. That’s far better a position to be in than we have for God. So how would realizing this principle “just is” a brute fact change any of that? Well, it wouldn’t. So there is no argument here. It’s logically possible all existence is explained this way. And there is more evidence that it is than that it is explained by supernatural agents—even now; far more so then, in the condition just imagined, when A would actually explain wild oddities about B and thus C, verifying A is indeed true, and not just hypothetical.

In The Problem with Nothing, for example, I have shown that even starting with absolutely nothing we should inevitably expect this universe to come into existence. Here we have no brute fact but nothing at all. You can’t get simpler than that. And there is no way to gainsay it; because to deny that “but for a cause, ‘nothing’ would exist” is to declare the existence of “something” necessary (as those are the only two options), eliminating any need for further explanation. And since that necessary being could be anything (there is no evidence it has a mind or makes intelligent choices, or is anything more than a simple quantum mechanical vacuum), there is no way to argue it will be nonnatural. You need evidence for that conclusion. And Bogardus has none. To the contrary, all the evidence there is on the point indicates the contrary of his thesis.

So Then What?

One approach would be to find the most probable brute fact possible, by identifying the simplest thing that would explain everything else. Which is why Bogardus’s example of mysteriously appearing oranges on doorsteps misses the mark—oranges, and doorsteps, are bizarrely complex circumstances, and thus the least likely things to happen for no reason. Whereas a quantum wave function for a complete multiverse can be described in just a dozen or so bits of information, vastly simpler than having to posit a whole complex orange appearing in hyper-specific ways—and even more vastly simpler than a God. In fact on current quantum mechanics, we actually can calculate the probability of oranges appearing exactly as Bogardus describes. It’s not zero. The same is true on classical thermodynamics or any other model of wholly ungoverned random production. The probability is always just too small to be likely to observe, which explains why it doesn’t happen—and I need no further explanation than that. That is a complete (and thus on Bogardus’s own terms successful) explanation. (See my recent article All the Laws of Thermodynamics Are Inevitable.)

Instead of discovering this, Bogardus spends pages and pages describing all three possible metamodels (infinitism, circularism, and brute-fact foundationalism) and what he doesn’t like about them, which is principally, that they all entail some unexplained brute fact—but he never presents any reason to doubt the logical possibility of, indeed, such a fact; or even its probability, given the direction all scientific evidence has consistently gone for thousands of years now. He also never explains how we are to know his God is not just another such brute fact. He never shows that “God” performs better against his completeness tests than “Naturalism.” Just saying “but I declare God to be logically necessary” still leaves you with something unexplained—in fact, two things: “What proves God logically necessary?” and “Why does logic have that power?” Is logical necessity itself the ultimate brute fact, or can we say it is successfully self-explanatory in precisely Bogardus’s own sense? (See The Ontology of Logic.)

But then what about God? If we get to say “God is necessary” when we have no evidence (no proof) that God is “necessary” in this sense, then we get to say this of any natural fact we want as well. And then we’re at an impasse. What makes “God necessarily existed” any more likely than “A primordial quantum vacuum necessarily existed?” You can’t appeal to outcomes, because they are all just as expected on either theory. And you can’t appeal to theoretical simplicity—a simple quantum vacuum wins that contest; of course theism also then loses to my Theory of Nothing, because no thing is theoretically simpler than “Nothing.” So what empirical virtues can you appeal to to get the necessary ground of all being to be God? When Edward Feser tried to answer that claim, for example, he left out anything actually getting him to a mind, and inadvertently ended up proving mindless spacetime was the necessary ground of all being. That these arguments never go the theist’s way should clue you in. They always lean on some fallacy or other. Yet true theories don’t have to do that. Only false ones do.

So it does not help that Bogardus imagines “maybe” we can prove God ontologically necessary. We still haven’t. And we can just as “maybe” prove that of any other simpler fact, like a primordial quantum vacuum, or nothing at all: In my Problem with Nothing model, for example, I consider two possible conditions (past finitism and past eternalism), and show that, no matter which is the case, if we start with absolutely nothing, logic entails our universe then inevitably would come to exist, whether at some past point in time (if there ever really was “nothing”) or not, because if a past-infinite series exists, the lack of anything to explain that would still atemporally explain why that series exists and not something else.

This is because logic entails the laws of probability, and since “nothing continuing to be nothing” is a single choice (against infinitely many “something” choices), and nothing predetermines what will be chosen (as is precisely the case when nothing exists), then “nothing” is infinitesimally unlikely to be selected as what exists—so if nothing is choosing, “nothing” is least likely to be chosen. And when we look at what the most common thing to arise by such random selection is (given that every possibility is equally likely at that point), it will be a multiverse in which our universe is functionally certain to arise (it is thus telling that there are already Six Arguments That a Multiverse Is More Probable Than a God).

This conclusion can only be evaded by insisting logically contradictory states of affairs can exist (like that somehow nothing is choosing what will exist and at the same time something will always choose nothing to exist); but once you do that, all arguments for God collapse, as then you cannot “argue” that nothing cannot just “become” our universe, because you just admitted logical contradictions can come true, so any demonstration that this would be impossible would automatically be false.

The bottom line is that “God” is no different than any of the Naturalism models Bogardus considers. God could be past eternal, and thus suffer all the same defects he sees in infinitism. God could appear out of nowhere in time, and thus suffer all the same defects he sees in brute factism. And God could be self-causing, and thus suffer all the same defects he sees in circularism. His own model suffers all the same defects he claims of Naturalism. Which is to say, it suffers just as little, because these aren’t really defects. “It annoys me that something might just exist and be the way it is for no reason” is not a rational method of deciding the matter. Facts don’t care about your feelings.

Conclusion

Bogardus offers an extremely verbose and convoluted word-wall that purports to offer some new argument for God, but in the end it doesn’t. It’s just another Argument to the Ontological Whatsit. He’s just saying “You can’t explain the regularities of nature without positing there be at least one brute fact, but I can,” and giving no evidence whatever that he can. All he has to offer in replacement is another brute fact—in fact, one vastly more bizarre and poorly evidenced than any that modern science could claim. He never presents any evidence that any necessary being exists, either, or that it has to be a personal consciousness, or mental or “teleological” in any way. So we’re left with the simple fact that reality might indeed be grounded in a brute fact, something that just exists or happened for no reason. Bogardus has no demonstration it can’t be.

Bogardus instead relies on a failed argument of Aristotle’s that attempted to derive knowledge from ignorance, which we now know is impossible. And his only syllogism trades on an equivocation fallacy in defining the word “successful” when describing any scientific theory, requiring it mean something wholly irrelevant to science at the point of his hypothesis (that “science” is only successful if it does the one bizarre thing he wants), and then switching to something else entirely at the point of his evidence for that hypothesis (that science is successful in the required sense for the argument to carry). He thus disregards all modernity, the entire Scientific Revolution and every discovery since, and retreats to a bankrupt medieval scholasticism, to argue illogically that because Aristotle thought not knowing the cause of something warrants believing it was caused by an intelligent agent, Bogardus gets to do the same thing now—even though the entire history of science has already proved that inference false.

The only way to know if a necessary being underlying all reality is a sentient immateriality or an insentient physical fact, is to present a formal proof or sufficient evidence of it. Bogardus has none. That’s also the only way to know whether the ground of all reality even is a necessary being or not. So Bogardus cannot claim to know this either. And the only way to prove the underlying ground of all reality isn’t just a brute fact, something that simply has no explanation, is to either deductively prove it (and Bogardus doesn’t; there is no formal proof of that conclusion anywhere in his paper) or prove it empirically (and Bogardus doesn’t; there is no discussion of any pertinent evidence anywhere in his paper). All he has to offer as if it were evidence for this conclusion is “that would annoy me.” But there is no logical connection between Bogardus’s feelings and the actual nature of reality.

What we have left is (1) the trendline of the evidence—which is toward any ultimate explanation being natural, whether necessary or brute it doesn’t matter—and (2) the fact that Bogardus has no proof that any necessary being exists, much less that it’s a person, or in any way nonnatural. I already have more evidence than he does that the necessary being, should there be any, is just spacetime itself—just simple, mindless spacetime. The Argument to the Ontological Whatsit doesn’t get you to God, if you care about the evidence and the logic of what a necessary being would actually have to be like. Whereas, by contrast, gods require extraordinary unexplained specified complexity, and are therefore the least likely things to be either brute or necessary facts.

In the end, if you are still left awake at night struggling to understand how any brute fact can exist (rather than not, or some other), you really should study The Problem with Nothing. If nothing exists to decide what should exist, then what will just happen to exist for no reason will be decided at randomwithout intelligent choice (because when nothing exists to specify a choice, any choice becomes as likely as any other); what Aristotle called “chance.” And this will necessarily be the case—what Aristotle called “necessity.” Because the absence of a choice of any one outcome over any others entails a random outcome, and of all possible random outcomes, ones that look like ours are the most common.

And yes, this is an actual peer reviewed theory in the sciences, disproving Bogardus’s claim that no such thing can exist: see Maya Lincoln and Avi Wasser, “Spontaneous Creation of the Universe Ex Nihilo,Physics of the Dark Universe 2 (2013): 195–99.

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