William J. Wainwright is Distinguished Professor of Philosophy Emeritus at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. We invited him to answer the question “What norms or values define excellent philosophy of religion?” as part of our “Philosophers of Religion on Philosophy of Religion” series.

The norms and values defining excellence in philosophy of religion include most of those characterizing excellence in the practice of philosophy in general—criteria for assessing world views (explanatory power, simplicity, and the like), logical acumen, a thorough familiarity with the history of discussions of the problems at issue, and so on. It also includes possession of relevant epistemic virtues—openness to criticism, for example, and a passion for truth (as distinguished from a primary interest in winning intellectual games).

Philosophical reflection on value laden subject matters requires additional norms, however. Aesthetics and ethics provide examples. Those who are blind to the excellence of Beethoven’s late string quartets, T. S. Eliot’s Four Quartets, G. B. Tiepolo’s ceiling paintings, or Henry James’s fiction, and so on are unlikely to do good work in the philosophy of art. Again, Aristotle and Plato believed that bad people were poor judges of moral or ethical truth. The former, for instance, thought that the major premises of practical syllogisms were “universal judgments of what is good for” people “in general, or as a rule,” or what is generally good for certain classes of people, or for people in certain circumstances. These judgments are (partial) articulations of the good life. Only a person in “a healthy emotional state” can grasp the truth of correct ethical principles. If that person’s desires, impulses, and feelings have been perverted or atrophied by neglect or by wrong training, then he or she will be unable to do so.

The resolution of technical and ordinary factual issues in the philosophy of religion (assessment of the validity of formal arguments, for instance, or [more controversially] of the historical accuracy of certain religious texts) require only logical skills and scholarly proficiency—skills and proficiencies which can be mastered by atheists and agnostics as well as by religious believers.

But religion too is a value laden subject matter. One is unlikely to do good work in the philosophy of religion, for example, if one is tone deaf to religion’s appeal and hence doesn’t really understand it. That is one reason why the work of Dennett, Dawkins, and other so-called “new atheists” can be largely disregarded while the work of atheists such as William Rowe or Graham Oppy cannot. Furthermore, if the object of religious inquiry is an alleged Goodness underlying, or at the heart of, reality (God, the Brahman, Nirvana, the Tao, etc., etc.), then it would hardly be surprising if those who neither love nor desire the Good fail to discover the truth about it.

Perhaps the most obvious instance of the role our affective attitudes and feelings play in the formation of our religious beliefs, though, is furnished by conflicts over comprehensive world views. Some of these world views are religious but many are not. It is arguable, however, that all comprehensive world views incorporate or reflect values.

Contemporary naturalism, for instance, is typically reductive, incorporating a taste for “desert landscapes.” It valorizes science as the only source of truth and dismisses any epistemic claims made by religion, poetry, or the arts. In some cases, a preference for naturalism may also reflect a desire that the world not contain “spooky” realities. Thomas Nagel, for instance, exclaims “it isn’t that I don’t believe in God…It is that I hope that there is no God! I don’t want there to be a God; I don’t want the world to be like that.” Plato, on the other hand, argued that “no man’s soul can feel intense pleasure or pain in anything without also at the same time believing that the chief object of these his emotions is transparently clear and utterly real.” If this is correct, then what pains and pleases us will affect our judgments of what is and is not real. Bodily pleasures and pains, for example, “drive a rivet into the soul, pinning it down to the body and so assimilating it thereto that it believes everything to be real which the body declares to be so” and regards everything else as comparatively unreal.

If world views do incorporate values, and values can’t be grasped in the absence of the right feelings and attitudes, then appropriate dispositions of the heart will be needed to discern their truth and the falsity of their rivals. Wrong dispositions, on the other hand, will result in false judgments and intellectual blindness. Thus, if any religious world views are true, the right affective attitudes will be needed to discern their truth. The criteria for determining excellence in the practice of philosophy of religion must therefore include criteria for sorting out epistemically right from epistemically wrong affective attitudes and feelings.

Donald A. Crosby is Professor of Philosophy Emeritus at Colorado State University. We invited him to answer the question “What norms or values define excellent philosophy of religion?” as part of our “Philosophers of Religion on Philosophy of Religion” series.

Considerations and Concerns Guiding Philosophy of Religion

In this essay I shall convert norms and values into considerations and concerns, because I think these two terms more closely convey what I intend to say about philosophy of religion as I view it. The usual theoretical norms are important, of course, for philosophy of religion as they are for any other theoretical enterprise. These include consistency, coherence, adequacy to experience, clarity, simplicity, cogency, and fruitfulness for ongoing inquiry. The values or goals central to philosophy of religion are also encompassed in my two terms considerations and concerns. There are six of these, and I have space here only for brief explanation of each one of them. In what follows, I shall use the single term consideration but want it to be shorthand for considerations and concerns.

The first of them is avoidance of reductionism. Philosophy of religion should strive always to do justice to religion as a distinctive mode of thought, inquiry, and practice. It should draw generously on other modes such as science, morality, history, and art for its articulations and expressions, but it is not reducible to any of them. It is also not reducible to philosophy, although it can make good use of philosophy in developing its claims, arguments, and assumptions. The distinctive character of religion should be kept always in the foreground.

The second consideration is avoidance of provincialism. Religion is not identical with theism or with typically Western modes of spirituality and commitment. It has a much broader range, and the philosopher of religion must always have this in mind. The differences among religious outlooks and traditions are often as important as their similarities. This is especially the case in our era of globalization.

The third consideration is the endeavor to keep constantly in mind the complementary roles of logos and pathos in religion. Religion is a way of life, not just a way of thinking and believing. It has active, emotional, volitional, convictional elements, not just intellectual ones, and these elements are often tightly interwoven with the intellectual ones.

The fourth consideration is the endeavor continually to explore and articulate the contemporary relevance of religion to the whole of life and to the world as a whole. This endeavor takes fully into account the fact that relevant and meaningful religion faces to the future, and not to the past. It draws upon resources of the past, and philosophy of religion can help to bring these into view, but these resources are starting points, not stopping points, for the philosopher of religion. The philosopher of religion has an important interpretive task regarding the religious thought of the past, to be sure, but that task is subordinate to the constructive one of showing how religious ideas can relate to the present and future.

The fifth consideration is maintaining the sense of mystery that is so basic to religion, and showing how doctrines and beliefs, no matter how profoundly developed and formulated, can never do final justice to the mystery that surrounds and shrouds all religious ultimates. This consideration means, among other things, that paradoxes, symbols, myths, metaphors, symbols, parables, koans, stories, and rites have a crucial role to play in religion, and that these roles need to be kept constantly in view by the philosopher of religion as they relate to discursive doctrines, beliefs, and arguments.

My sixth consideration is that the philosopher of religion should always have a pluralistic mindset toward religious differences. The sense of mystery so integral to religion should guard against any tendency to absolutism or exclusivism. Religious ultimates, whatever else they may be, are girdled about with mystery. And this means that there is ample room for different facetings of this holy mystery in the form of different beliefs, practices, and systems of thought. The pluralistic mindset I advocate means that philosophy of religion must always be dialectical in its approaches to religious phenomena. It should avoid any suggestion of close-minded diatribe. This sixth consideration ties in closely with the second one of the avoidance of provincialism or narrow conceptions of religion that fail to give due recognition to its rich and complex history—both between and within particular religious traditions—and its multiple forms of manifestation.

Philosophy of religion has the potential to be of significant help to persons struggling with religious questions and quandaries in their lives. Philosophers of religion should do their work with this idea in mind and not allow the discipline as a whole to become so arcane and specialized that it is of interest only to philosophers or can be understood only by them. It can have an important public role to play, and the above considerations can be of great use in filling this role.

Leonard Angel is Instructor Emeritus at Douglas College, Department of Philosophy and Humanities. We invited him to answer the question “What norms or values define excellent philosophy of religion?” as part of our “Philosophers of Religion on Philosophy of Religion” series.

Philosophy of religion should work when an account is satisfactory. When will that happen? When we have a satisfactory theory of how a person has feelings of spirituality and we have a satisfactory theory of how to live a religious life, and we have a satisfactory theory of how to help people, and how to turn the bad into good, and how to really feel alive, and so on.
Do the theoretical virtues of scientific thinking apply?

If so, religious philosophy would have virtues like explanatory power, predictive accuracy, empirical adequacy, coherence with current theory, fruitfulness for further inquiry, and simplicity.

Feelings of spirituality represent all. Then that which has spread to all places should be accepted.

But, one’s looking is dependent. If one looks to groups that never had much use for mathematical physics, then lots ¬– having little to do with living a spiritual life – would be lost. This has, mostly, to do with the mechanism of the 1600s, but in the next paragraph we’ll relate what only became clear at some point in the 1900s.

Suppose someone looks at how nothing overturns mathematical physics.

That is reasonable: it’s not only physical closure (look, you’ll see), but mathematical physics also has some explanatory power – that is, it can explain astronomical events; it also has some predictive accuracy – for, it is able to predict the details of, for example, impact, which has nothing to do with “living a spiritual life,” like the previous case; mathematical physics also has some empirical adequacy – for, it has the ability to welcome observation. We’ll look at coherence with current theory two paragraphs below and on. Mathematical physics is fruitful for further inquiry, and simple, too.

The typical scientific theoretical virtues seem to be satisfied, though without having anything to do with “living a spiritual life.”

The question is, “How does physical closure cohere with people having spiritual feelings? Doesn’t physical closure imply a kind of physicalism that goes against having feelings of spirituality?”

Having feelings of spirituality does not require a realm of pure spirit. This needs to be shown. Let’s make a supposition.

Suppose some particles, running about, produce what’s required for having feelings of spirituality. This supposition is what’s required, which is okay.

Only some people are interested in whether mathematical physics bases the empirical sciences. (“Empiricism” welcomes “observers.”)

Suppose, for the sake of discussion, you don’t want to know, one way or another, whether mathematical physics bases the empirical sciences. Then you don’t care if physical closure is accepted or not. It follows logically that … having feelings of spirituality does not require a realm of pure spirit.

That last sentence is, for some, a problem: Suppose one doesn’t care if physical closure is accepted or not. How does what’s after the sentence beginning “Then” in the last paragraph follow logically?

Suppose one really doesn’t care. What’s after the sentence beginning “Then,” two paragraphs ago, does logically follow: having feelings of spirituality does not require a realm of pure spirit. This can be put another way.

There is an exception to our rule: having feelings of spirituality does require a realm of pure spirit.

But what was said a few paragraphs ago could be repeated with a twist. In what’s coming “Let” replaces “Suppose.” Let some particles, running about, produce what’s required for having feelings of spirituality, and for living a religious life. If you really don’t care, then “Let” can replace “Suppose”. Why not? “Let” means “actually,” while “Suppose” refers to an assumption. The purposes of the assumption are irrelevant to us. But we want to include “Let”. What follows the second “Let”, in this paragraph, amounts to physical closure for living a religious life. Work it out; it comes true.

Does physical closure allow for living a spiritual life?

If physical closure, or whatever it’s called, in future years, is accepted, not only by academics, but also by people not associated with academies, then we’ll deal with problems – there will be some – that arise.

But lets return to our question. Would the scientific theoretical virtues apply to the spiritual life? If so, how?

The scientific theoretical virtues listed (in the third paragraph) apply, most obviously, in physics. But they also apply in all sciences. The human & social sciences – history, political science, psychology, sociology, anthropology, etc. – would work, too. That gives us what we’re interested in.

But leading a religious life is complex. The complexities are what we will look at.
It would be good if we could choose one, which stands for the complexities in them all. We come from different backgrounds, some Jewish, some Christian, some Buddhist, some Confucians, and some others. We’ll let Judaism stand for all of them.
Judaism is theistic, which is not necessary; theism’s only 50 % of the list just given. Confucianism is not. “Some others” are not. Buddhism is classed as non-theism because the Buddha’s central concept was “suffering.” There are many non- theistic religions. But Judaism is theistic.

What brings the theistic and non-theistic religions together is that both believed in a realm of pure spirit. But we already know that that can’t be right. The trouble is “pure;” if one really doesn’t care whether physical closure is true, then it can’t be that there’s a realm of pure spirit. Let … etc.

Then one can be a good Jew. One can discover a feeling of spirituality, which in this case means “be a good Jew.”

How do the theoretical virtues of the sciences apply?

Let’s apply this question to our example: a Jewish Rabbi would need to believe in God. The sciences together would require God not to be both a person and un-embodied. This can be shown, but won’t be, here.

Then a Jewish Rabbi has a path: deny one of God being some sort of person, or God being un-embodied, (or both).

This is promising. Let Judaism stand for all religions; then, if there’s no trouble, (and there won’t be) it will do what’s required.

Nicholas Rescher is Distinguished Professor of Philosophy at the University of Pittsburgh. We invited him to answer the question “What norms or values define excellent philosophy of religion?” as part of our “Philosophers of Religion on Philosophy of Religion” series.

ON MERIT IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF RELIGION

Crucial for merit in the philosophy of religion—as in any other branch of philosophy—is an individually cogent and systemically coherent treatment of the issues of the domain. This desideratum has many ramifications.

A sensible philosophy of religion must avoid staking unreasonable demands. It must desist from making promises that cannot be met and foster unrealistic expectations. It should not make demands for doing something that cannot possibly be realized, and should confine its demands within the limits of the possible. Also, various obvious fallacies should be avoided, as, for example begging the question or placing reliance on problematic and unsupported premisses. And an-other key aspect of this is the normative proportionality of maintaining a proper alignment between the elaborativeness of treatment and the importance of the issues.

Like any other branch of philosophy, the philosophy of religion is defined as a particular field of investigation by a characteristic problem-agenda. This includes such questions as:

—What considerations must be weighed in contemplating a religious commitment?

—Does one size fit all? And for a given individual is there a single uniquely appropriate religious tradition?

—How does religiosity relate to theology? Can one be a member in good standing of one’s religions tradition without endorsing all, or most, or at least the most significant of its doctrinal teachings?

—Is it incoherent to adopt the practices of a religious tradition without endorsing its doctrines—or conversely?

—Is a sincere commitment to one’s religion compromised by a failure to disapprove of people who hold a different position?

Stepping back from such specifics, it deserves note that the problems of the domain fall into four groups.

I. Methodological. Reflective questions regarding the nature of the field, its problem agenda, the rationale of its constituents.

II. Ontological. The existence and nature of the transcendental discourse with which religion is concerned.

III. Epistemological. The means and method with which the problems of the field should be achieved.

IV. Practical. What is called for in the practical and procedural implementation of religious beliefs. In what ways can and should a mode of life attending to such commitment be conducted?

The ultimate standard of performance is that of adequacy in handling such questions in a way that reduces the manifold of open questions and unresolved issues. It pursues this goal in four ways

—Question removal: Showing that the questions are inappropriate, do not require any answers, and should be dismissed.

—Question-resolution: Providing rationally cogent answers to questions.

—Question-diminution: Resolving those agenda questions without raising new, additional, and possibly even more perplexing questions.

—Question-reinforcement: Substantiating and rendering more tenable the presuppositions on which the prevailing agenda questions are predicated.

But a pivotal issue yet remains untouched. Are there any merits and virtues that specifically apply to the philosophy of religion in contrast to other branches of philosophy?

It would seem that there indeed are. Salient among them is the factor of religious urbanity. For the philosophy of religion should come to terms at the very outset with the fact of plurality—that there are different religions, and that however deeply attached we ourselves are to one or another of them, it is neither realistic nor just to expect that others would align themselves to us in these regards. And this means that the philosophy of religion, unlike religion itself, must, qua philosophy, stand free of doctrinal commitments.

And here we come to another salient virtue in the field—religious objectivity. Philosophy of religion is not apologetics, and philosophy OF religion is not philosophy WITHIN religion or religious philosophizing. Philosophy of religion, that is to say, should not be predicated on substantive doctrinal commitments; it should not be a matter of preaching to the choir.

But how can one discuss matters of religion without substantive commitments? How can one proceed committed-neutrally here and avoid any doctrinal undertakings? The answer lies in yet another virtue that should characterize the philosophy of religion: doctrinal neutrality in regard to religious matters.

But how can this objective possibly be achieved? How can one possibly discuss religious beliefs without entering into them? The answer is as old as logic—it roots in an idea that has many names: supposition, hypothesis, assumption. And on this basis, it transpires that the philosophy of religion should talk in the language of IF rather than SINCE. Its approach to doctrinal matters should be suppositional with substantive commitment be left “as an exercise for the reader.” Clarification not advocacy should be the aim of the enterprise. Merit lies in doing well at the philosopher’s job of helping people to understand the implications of and interconnections between the matters of substance to which they have or contemplate commitment.

Accordingly, the philosophy of religion can and should deliberate about the ramifications and consequences of accepting a certain religious doctrine—what presuppositions and consequence one must be prepared to accept in the wake of one’s religious commitments? But what it cannot do is to undertake advocacy for the basic doctrinal commitments themselves. The case is not unlike that of the philosophy of friendship. It can tell you about what to look for in a friend, what you should expect of friend and they of you. But it cannot tell you whom to pick for your friends. That is a matter of opportunity, disposition, and personal affinity.

How effectively can the philosophy of religion contribute to religiosity? Quite likely not very. There is no reason to think that good philosophy of mathematics makes for better mathematicians, that good philosophy of science makes for better scientists, that acuity in moral philosophy makes for people with better morals. And much the same holds for the philosophy of religion. Better philosophizing in matters of religion need not make for better practice.