ENLIGHTENMENT CRITICS
From Classics in the Philosophy of Religion, by James Fieser
© 2026, updated 6/1/2026, CC BY-NC-ND 4.0
_______________________
CONTENTS
• Jean Meslier: God as a Fiction of Power
• Voltaire: Deism and the Critique of Superstition
• David Hume: Religious Skepticism
By the mid‑eighteenth century, religious criticism reached a level of openness not seen since the ancient skeptics. Earlier modern philosophers had raised doubts, but social and legal pressures forced them to conceal their full objections. The growth of scientific explanation, expanding toleration, and increasing suspicion of ecclesiastical authority created a climate in which more direct challenges could finally be voiced. Jean Meslier represents the most radical expression of this new freedom. In a manuscript intended for posthumous release, he rejected all religion as human invention and denied the existence of God. Voltaire carried the critique into public debate, defending deism while exposing the political abuses and moral corruption of organized religion. His aim was to separate belief in God from the superstition and clerical power of institutionalized religion, while not abolishing the idea of God itself. David Hume offered the most philosophically influential criticism. As a radical skeptic, Hume did not have to invent his skeptical approach from nothing. Rather, he merely consistently followed the empiricist methodology founded by Locke to where it was already going. He boldly challenged the traditional arguments for God's existence and reduced the origins of religion to natural and psychological phenomena. Hume marked the moment when systematic criticism of religious belief became intellectually viable and central to modern philosophical inquiry.
_______________________
JEAN MESLIER:
GOD AS A FICTION OF POWER
Jean Meslier (1664–1729) was born in the village of Mazerny in the Ardennes region of France, the son of modest wool‑workers, and was educated for the priesthood, despite showing early intellectual independence. Ordained in 1689, he spent his entire clerical career as the parish priest of Étrépigny and the nearby hamlet of Balaives. To his parishioners and church superiors, he appeared to be a conventional, obedient country priest. In private, however, he spent decades secretly writing a massive manuscript that attacked Christianity, the monarchy, and social inequality. This work, later known as the Testament, argued that all religions are human inventions, that priests and rulers use superstition to maintain power, and that a just society must be grounded in reason and equality. After his death in 1729, the manuscript was discovered among his papers, and copies began to circulate clandestinely, eventually influencing Enlightenment thinkers such as Voltaire, Diderot, and d'Holbach. The selections below are from the Testament.
In the opening section "All Religions Are False" Meslier begins by claiming that all religious worship, doctrine, and law attributed to divine authority is "nothing but error, abuse, illusion, falsehood, and imposture." He argues that religious practices were invented by political leaders and impostors, accepted blindly by the ignorant, and maintained by rulers as instruments of control. This critique applies equally to Christianity, which he considers as false and irrational as any pagan religion. He urges readers to abandon the imagined promises of heaven and the invented terrors of hell, and he encourages a peaceful and moderate enjoyment of life, since death ends all sensation of good and evil. He promises to support these claims with clear and convincing proofs rather than asking for trust in his word. In "The Human Origin of Religion", he argues that religions arise from human invention rather than divine revelation. He maintains that early lawmakers used divine authority to secure obedience and that the contradictions among religions show they cannot all be true. Because each sect condemns the others, he concludes that most religions—and likely all—are fabricated tools of social control. In "No Religion of Divine Origin" he states that no sect has ever produced clear and convincing evidence of divine institution. Every sect claims divine authority while denying it to others, yet none can provide proofs strong enough to compel rational assent. Centuries of conflict among Christians themselves demonstrate, in his view, that no party possesses authentic divine testimony.
In the section on "The Implausibility of Miracles", Meslier argues that reported miracles contradict the perfections attributed to an infinitely wise and just deity. He maintains that divine goodness would not manifest itself through selective or trivial interventions. Further, the disproportion between alleged miracles and genuine human needs reveals them as fabrications rather than genuine acts of providence. In the section on "The Cartesian Self-Configuring Material World", drawing on Cartesian physics, Meslier argues that matter, motion, and natural laws suffice to explain the formation and order of the universe. The Cartesians themselves admit that the world could have arisen through natural forces without divine intelligence, which shows that nature's arrangement does not prove the existence of a perfect creator. In "The Materiality of the Soul", he rejects the doctrine of spiritual substance, arguing that a being without body or extension is inconceivable. The soul must be material because nothing real or substantial can exist without extension. He dismisses modern distinctions between body and spirit as abstractions that collapse under scrutiny. Finally, in "The Incoherence of Christian Doctrine", Meslier concludes with a list of contradictions within Christian doctrine. He argues that unity contradicts trinity, eternity contradicts generation, simplicity contradicts immensity, immutability contradicts causation, and providence contradicts the disorder of the world. These contradictions show Christian doctrine to be incoherent and false.
RELIGION A HUMAN INVENTION
All Religions are False
3. Know then, my dear friends, that everything that is said and done in the world for the worship and adoration of the gods is nothing but error, abuse, illusion, falsehood, and imposture. All the laws and ordinances published under the name and authority of God or the gods are truly nothing but human inventions. This includes all the beautiful spectacles of festivals and sacrifices, and all the other practices of religion and devotion which are done in their honor. All these things, I say, are nothing but human inventions, which were, as I have already indicated, invented by shrewd and cunning politicians, then cultivated and multiplied by false prophets, by seducers and by imposters. They were then received blindly by the ignorant, and finally maintained and authorized by the laws of princes and the great of the earth, who have used these kinds of inventions, to more easily keep the common people in check by this means and do whatever they want. For in the end all these inventions are nothing but bridles for calves, as Mr. de Montagne said, but they only serve to bridle the minds of the ignorant and the simple. The wise do not restrain themselves from it, nor do they allow themselves to be restrained by it. For, indeed, only the ignorant and the simple-minded would believe it and allow themselves to be led by it.
What I say here in general about the vanity and falseness of the world's religions, I say not only of pagan and foreign religions, which you already consider false, but I say equally of your Christian religion, which you call Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman. Indeed, it is no less vain or false than any other. For there is perhaps none so ridiculous, so absurd in its principles and principal points, nor so contrary to Nature itself and right reason. This is what I tell you, my dear friends, so that you may not be further deceived by the beautiful promises it makes of eternal rewards in a paradise that is nothing but imaginary. Thus you may also find peace of mind and heart against all the vain fears it gives you of the dreadful punishments of a hell that does not exist. For all that you are told of the one being so beautiful and magnificent, and the other so terrible and dreadful, is nothing but fable. There is no more good to hope for, nor any evil to fear, after death. Therefore, make wise use of your time by living well, and enjoying soberly, peacefully and joyfully, if you can, the goods of life and the fruits of your labors. For this is the best course you can take, since death, by ending life, also ends all knowledge and all feeling of good and evil.
But it is not libertinism, as one might think, that has led me to these sentiments. Also, I do not ask, nor would I even want, that any of you or anyone else should believe me on my word alone in a matter of such great importance. On the contrary, I desire to make you understand for yourselves the truth of all that I have just said, through clear and convincing reasons and proofs. Accordingly, I am going to offer you here some proofs as clear and convincing as can be found in any field of knowledge. I will try to make them so evident and intelligible that, provided you have even a little common sense, you will easily understand that you are mistaken, and that you are being greatly misled about religion, and that everything you are forced to believe, as if by divine faith, does not deserve any additional human faith from you. This is the first of my reasons and my proofs. . . .
The Human Origin of Religion
It is clear and evident that it is an abuse, error, illusion, falsehood, and imposture to attempt to pass off purely human laws as entirely supernatural and divine laws and institutions. It is certain that all religions in the world are, as I have said, merely purely human inventions and institutions. It is also certain that those who first invented them used the name and authority of God solely to make people more easily accept the laws and ordinances they wanted to establish. We must necessarily agree that this is true for at least most religions, or else recognize that most religions are truly instituted by God. We cannot say that most religions are truly of divine institution. After all, because all these different religions are contrary and opposed to one another, and even condemn each other, it is evident that, being contrary in their principles and maxims, they cannot be true at the same time, nor consequently come from the same principle of truth, which would be divine. This is why our Roman worshippers of Christ acknowledge, and are even forced to acknowledge, that there can be at most only one true religion, which they claim is their own. Consequently, they hold as a foundational maxim of their doctrine and belief that there is only one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God, and one church, which is the Catholic, apostolic, and Roman church, outside of which they claim there is no salvation. From this I draw the obvious conclusion: it is therefore certain that at least most of the world's religions are purely human inventions, as I have said, and that those who first invented them used the name and authority of God solely to make people more easily accept the laws and ordinances they wanted to establish, and at the same time to make themselves more honored, feared, and respected by the peoples they had to lead and whom they wanted to deceive through this trickery.
No Religion of Divine Origin
9. But since no particular sect of religion fails to claim that it is truly founded on the authority of God, and since each claims to be entirely exempt from all the errors, illusions, deceptions, and impostures found in the others, it is up to those who seek to establish or maintain the truth of their sect to demonstrate that it is truly of divine institution. Each of them must respectively prove this through evidence and testimonies that are so clear, sure, and convincing that no one could reasonably and prudently doubt them. After all, if the proofs and testimonies they could offer were not of this caliber, they would always remain suspect regarding error, illusion, and deception, and consequently would not serve as sufficient testimonies of truth, meaning no one would be obligated to place their faith in them. Thus, if none of those who claim their religion is of divine institution are able to provide clear, sure, and convincing proofs and testimonies, this serves as clear, sure, and convincing proof that not a single religion is truly of divine institution. Consequently, we must assert and hold as certain that all of them are merely human inventions filled with error, illusion, and deception. It is completely unbelievable and presumptuous to think that an almighty God, who is supposedly infinitely good and infinitely wise, would want to give laws and ordinances to humanity without also ensuring that they bore surer, more authentic marks and testimonies of truth than the countless impostors found in the world. Yet, not a single one of our theists or worshippers of Christ—regardless of their faction or religious sect—can demonstrate through clear, sure, and convincing proofs that their religion is truly of divine institution. Proof of this is that for so long and across so many centuries, they have debated and contested one another, even to the point of persecuting each other with fire and sword to uphold their opinions, and yet not a single faction among them has ever been able to convince and persuade the opposing factions through such testimonies of truth.. . . .
The Implausibility of Divine Favoritism and Miracles
19. I have already stated that the so-called miracles recounted in these supposedly holy books do not accord with what one should think of the grandeur, wisdom, and justice of an infinitely perfect Being. Consequently, that these so-called miracles are not believable in themselves. This is what I will demonstrate quite clearly through the following reasoning. One should only think of the grandeur, goodness, wisdom, and justice of a Being who is infinitely perfect insofar as it is consistent with all these divine perfections. Now, would it, for example, be fitting for a supreme goodness, a supreme wisdom, and a supreme justice to desire to feed on flesh and blood through cruel and bloody sacrifices? Would it be fitting for them to show unjust and detestable consideration for individuals, or even any unjust and detestable consideration for entire peoples? Would it be fitting for these divine Perfections to coldly and deliberately destroy some and overwhelm them with misery in order to favor others without any merit and happily overwhelm them with every good thing? No, undoubtedly not, for those Books I am speaking of, which are considered holy and divine among our Christians, expressly forbid all injustice, all iniquity, and especially all kinds of unjust treatment of persons. . . . Indeed, if God were God, that is to say, if there truly was a God, as our Christians understand and say, he would be equally the author of all creatures, equally the author of all Men and all Peoples; he would not only be the God of the Jews or the Greeks, but also the God of all Peoples and all Nations of the Earth, and everywhere he would be equally the Protector of all and their Benefactor. . . .
Moreover, since, as I have said, we should only think of the Greatness, Goodness, Justice, and Wisdom of an infinitely perfect Being in terms befitting those divine perfections, we should not think that a God who was infinitely perfect would have so particularly wished to employ his power to perform miracles in minor situations and for matters of slight consequence. Also he would not have wished to employ himself in the same way in situations that were far more considerable, nor for matters of far greater importance. For it would not be fitting for a sovereign Wisdom to apply itself to small things and neglect great ones. It would not be fitting for a sovereign Wisdom to provide more particularly for the accessory than for the principal of a thing. It would not be fitting for a sovereign Justice to severely punish minor offenses and leave great and abominable crimes unpunished. And finally, it would not be fitting for a sovereign Goodness and a sovereign Wisdom not to wish to be as good and as benevolent to humankind in their most pressing needs as it would be in the least. I say at least because it is in the most pressing needs that Goodness should rather manifest itself. This, a sovereign Goodness which would be accompanied by a sovereign Wisdom and a sovereign Power, as would be the sovereign Goodness of an Almighty and infinitely wise God, could not fail to render itself and show itself at least as good and as benevolent to men in their most pressing needs as in their least needs. . . .
What! A sovereign Goodness, a sovereign Wisdom, an infinitely perfect Being would have miraculously preserved for 40 years the clothes and slippers of a vile and wretched people, preventing them from wearing out their feet and backs. Yet he would not have wanted, and would not still want, to ensure the natural preservation of so many goods and so much wealth that would have been, or would be, so useful and necessary for the sustenance of peoples, and which have nevertheless been lost and are still being lost every day through various kinds of unfortunate accidents. And he would not even preserve the richest or most precious ornaments of His temples, nor His temples themselves, if fire were to break out. These supposed miracles are utterly unbelievable. What! A supreme Goodness, a supreme Wisdom, an infinitely perfect Being would have expressly sent his Angels to preserve or protect from danger some women, some children, or some other particular persons! . . .
NATURE WITHOUT GOD
The Cartesian Self-Configuring Material World
86. According to the doctrine of this author [i.e., Descartes], which I have just reported at some length and which is shared by all the Cartesians—who are considered the most sensible among all philosophers—it is clear and evident that the formation of this entire universe and the production of all the works of nature, including their order, arrangement, and situation, could have occurred through the sole forces of nature. This means that everything beautiful and perfect within them arose from the moving force of the parts of matter as they were variously configured, combined, moved, linked, and modified in relation to one another. Despite being worshippers of God and Christ, these philosophers do not see the necessity of any other cause, nor consequently of any supreme intelligence, to produce the effects I have mentioned. Indeed, they expressly state that if God had not arranged things all at once as they currently are, they would have eventually arranged themselves over time through the force of motion. Not only do they claim that things would have settled into this order through the laws of motion, but they formally assert that if God had placed them in an order different from the one they would naturally assume, all things would have been overturned and returned, by the force of these laws, to the very order we see today. It is therefore clear, following the doctrine of these famous Cartesians, that the production and admirable arrangement of nature's works do not prove the existence of a sovereignly perfect Intelligence; consequently, they can only demonstrate the existence of an almighty God if it were assumed that he alone created matter and granted it motion. . . .
The Materiality of the Soul
89. First, concerning the supposed spirituality of the soul, if it were spiritual, as our Christians understand it, it would have neither body, nor parts, nor form, nor shape, nor any extension whatsoever, and consequently would be nothing real or substantial. Now, the soul is something real and substantial, since it animates the body and gives it the strength and movement it possesses. For one cannot say that it is nothing or void that animates the body and gives it its strength and movement; therefore, the soul is something real and substantial, and necessarily, it must consequently have a body and matter, and have extension, since nothing real and substantial can exist without a body and without extension. The obvious proof of this is that it is impossible to form any idea of a Being that is without body or matter and without any extension. Think and rethink as much as you like about what a supposed Being might be that has neither body, nor matter, nor any extension; you will never form a clear and distinct idea of what it might be; and this should not surprise you, for how could one form a clear and distinct idea of a being that one would want to strip of the very nature of being and of all the properties of being? It is as if one wanted to form a clear and distinct idea of a being that was not a being. It is worse than wishing to form an idea of a chimera; for, in the end, one can form a clear and distinct idea of a chimera—such as a monster with a hundred heads or a hundred arms, for example, or any other chimera one might imagine—but one cannot, even if one wished to, form any clear and distinct idea of what a being would be that was not a being at all and did not possess the nature of Being. Such a concept clearly contradicts and destroys itself. Now, the nature of Being is to be body and extension; consequently, that which is neither body nor extension is in no way a being. Antiquity always thought and believed this to be so, such that most ancient philosophers and theologians held no other belief than that one. This is also why they believed not only that souls were corporeal and material, but also that angels and God himself were not without bodies or corporeal forms, so persuaded were they that there was no being without body and without extension.
They had not yet taken notice of that fine and subtle distinction which our modern philosophers have imagined to exist between body and spirit. They had not yet, like these moderns, thought to consider whether a thought of the soul could be extended or not; whether a desire of the soul could be round, square, triangular, or of some other figure; nor whether one could cut in two or in four some piece of knowledge or some feeling of the soul. Because these subtle philosophers have clearly recognized that a thought of the soul is not an extended body—that a desire of the soul is not a round, square, or triangular thing, nor of any other figure, and that one cannot in any way cut or split in two or in four any knowledge or feeling of the soul—they believed they had found an essential difference between body and spirit. They imagined that these were really and substantially two beings of different natures: that the property of one was to be extended in length, width, and depth, while the property of the other was solely to think and to feel. . . .
The Incoherence of Christian Doctrine
97. In the reasoning I have presented so far on this subject, there is no proof, nor any argument, that destroys, contradicts, or refutes one another; on the contrary, all the proofs I have alleged, which are all evident, follow one another, support one another, and confirm one another. Similarly, all the arguments I have presented on this subject follow one another, support one another, and clearly confirm one another; it is like a chain of proofs and demonstrative arguments that support and confirm one another, clearly marking each other that they are all supported on the firm and solid foundation of truth itself; because error on such a subject could not be confirmed by the whole agreement of so many such strong and powerful reasons, and there is perhaps no truth which can be proven and demonstrated by so many clear and evident testimonies of truth, that this one demonstrates itself.
This is not the case with the doctrine of our Christians concerning the alleged existence of their God. They cannot provide any clear proof of it, and what they say about his nature and his operations is full of contradictions and inconsistencies. What our Christians say about it is no less ridiculous and absurd. For they attribute incompatible things to him, and often what they claim to prove by one reason is refuted by another. The unity, for example, which they attribute to the nature of their God, destroys the trinity of persons, which they also attribute to him, and the trinity of persons reciprocally destroys the unity of nature. The generation or production of two of the aforementioned persons destroys their alleged eternity, and their alleged eternity also destroys their alleged generation or production. The indivisible simplicity of a divine nature. which would have no extension, destroys the immensity that they attribute to it. This supposed immensity is manifestly repugnant to a nature that would have no extension. The immobility and immutability that they attribute to their God destroy in him the quality of first cause and first mover that they give him, and this supposed quality of first cause and first mover as the driving force, destroys within it this supposed immobility and immutability. For that which is absolutely and essentially immobile and immutable in itself can change nothing, nor move anything outside of itself, nor within itself. The supposed infinite goodness and mercy, which they attribute to it, destroys the infinite rigor of its supposed justice, and the infinite rigor of its supposed justice destroys the infinite gentleness of its supposed goodness and mercy. The infinite wisdom, omnipotence, and general providence, which they attribute to it in the whole government of the world, and even in the particular government of each thing, would necessarily entail with them a perfectly beautiful and good order of all things, which would manifestly make its goodness and wisdom, its power, and the admirable providence of the infinitely perfect Being, who would govern all things so well, so wisely, and so happily, recognized and admired. But the clear and manifest evidence of the contrary, the sight of the evils, miseries, vices, disorders, and wickedness that are found and committed generally by everyone, entirely destroys the belief in this supposed wisdom, this supposed omnipotence, and this supposed general providence of an infinitely perfect Being who would govern all things. Moreover, the reasons our Christians use to establish and explain their doctrine on this subject are so weak in themselves and so full of contradictions and inconsistencies that they destroy themselves and do not deserve any further credence, which is yet another proof that displays the falsity of their principles and doctrine, and consequently also a clear and evident proof of the truth of the contrary doctrine.
Source: Jean Meslier, Le Testament (1732/1864), independently machine translated from the original French, not based on any other English translation.
_______________________
VOLTAIRE:
DEISM AND THE CRITIQUE OF SUPERSTITION
Voltaire (1694–1778) was born François‑Marie Arouet in Paris to a prosperous middle‑class family, his father serving as a notary and minor official. Educated at the Jesuit Collège Louis‑le‑Grand, he received a classical humanist training and soon gained a reputation for his wit, which brought him both literary friendships and political trouble. After a brief period studying law, he devoted himself to writing. However, his sharp satire led to two imprisonments in the Bastille and a subsequent exile to England from 1726 to 1729, where he became acquainted with the country's political institutions, religious diversity, and scientific culture. Returning to France, he continued to write prolifically in a wide range of genres and spent many years moving between Paris, Lorraine, and the Prussian court of Frederick the Great before finally settling at his estate in Ferney near the Swiss border. Over his long life he published an extraordinary number of works, the most famous of which include Letters on England (1734), Candide (1759), and the Philosophical Dictionary (1764). He died in Paris at the age of 83 after a triumphant return to the city. Voltaire was a leading defender of deism, the view that a supreme intelligence created the universe but left it to run on its own natural laws. He argues that the order of nature proves the existence of a creator, yet he rejects the idea that we can ever truly understrand God's inner nature. For Voltaire, God is a grand architect rather than a personal father, and this position strictly rules out miracles, divine revelation, and any religious rituals. The selections below are from his Philosophical Dictionary (1764) and The Three Imposters (1768).
In the first section on God's visible existence and hidden nature, Voltaire argues that the knowledge of God originates from a natural logic that unfolds as human beings observe the astonishing effects of nature. However, while the design of the world proves a creator, our limited intelligence can never determine his inner attributes. For example, speculative reason can show that a supreme being arranged the eternal matter of this world, but it cannot prove that God created this matter out of nothing. In the second section on arguments for and against atheism, he argues that intelligent beings cannot have originated from a blind, insensible cause. For, the world operates as an intricate machine, which should force even skeptics to recognize that it originated from an intelligent source. He rejects the atheist claim that the casual motion of matter could produce the universe over time, since motion alone cannot generate understanding. In the third section he examines whether a society of atheists is possible, or whether it will just collapse into lawlessness. His answer is that educated individuals can cultivate virtue without religious faith, but the common public requires strong guidance to govern their behavior. For them, it is better to believe in a divine judge who punishes secret crimes while at the same time acknowledge the good motives behind our actions which others may not see. Continuing this line of reasoning in the fourth section, Voltaire makes the famous statement that if God did not exist, then we would need to invent him for the sake of social stability.
In the fifth section on deism as a universal moral religion, Voltaire defines this view as a natural faith spread through all historical religions. While human sects differ and even kill others over metaphysical opinions, morality remains everywhere the same since it comes directly from God. The deist does not presume to understand how God acts, but submits to a just providence and places true worship in adoration and practical justice. In the sixth section on faith as the annihilation of reason, Voltaire sees faith as simply submitting to things that are impossible to believe. Human beings can believe only what appears true through intuition, probability, or demonstration. But the incomprehensible mysteries of orthodox religion fall outside all three categories. Saying that I believe these mysteries means only that I respect the authorities who announce them. In the seventh section he criticizes Leibniz's view that this is the best of all possible worlds. For, the appalling tragedies and physical evils afflicting the earth completely expose this doctrine as a hopeless fiction. The origin of evil remains an unmeasurable problem, and for that reason philosophers should silence their dishonest optimism and confess their total ignorance of why tragedy exists. Finally, in the eighth section against superstitions, Voltaire warns that popular miracles are useless amusements that serve no public good. Further, wise leaders must recognize that superstitions cause great harm, and society should abolish them in favor of useful tasks that feed the poor.
FOUNDATIONS OF DEISM
God's Visible Existence but Hidden Nature (Philosophical Dictionary, "God", sect 1)
The reader cannot too carefully bear in mind that this dictionary has not been written for the purpose of repeating what so many others have said.
The knowledge of a God is not impressed upon us by the hands of nature, for then men would all have the same idea; and no idea is born with us. It does not come to us like the perception of light, of the ground, etc., which we receive as soon as our eyes and our understandings are opened. Is it a philosophical idea? No; men admitted the existence of gods before they were philosophers.
From what, then, is this idea derived? From feeling, and from that natural logic which unfolds itself with age, even in the earliest of mankind. Astonishing effects of nature were seen—harvests and barrenness, fair weather and storms, benefits and afflictions; and the hand of a master was felt. Chiefs were necessary to govern societies; and it was needful to admit sovereigns of these new sovereigns whom human weakness had given itself—beings before whose power these men who could bear down their fellow-men might tremble. The first sovereigns in their time employed these notions to cement their power. Such were the first steps; thus every little society had its god. These notions were crude because everything was rude. It is very natural to reason by analogy. One society under a chief did not deny that the neighboring tribe should likewise have its judge, or its captain. Consequently it could not deny that the other should also have its god. But as it was to the interest of each tribe that its captain should be the best, it was also interested in believing, and consequently it did believe, that its god was the mightiest. Hence those ancient fables which have so long been generally diffused, that the gods of one nation fought against the gods of another. Hence the numerous passages in the Hebrew books, which we find constantly disclosing the opinion entertained by the Jews, that the gods of their enemies existed, but that they were inferior to the God of the Jews.
Meanwhile, in the great states where the progress of society allowed to individuals the enjoyment of speculative leisure, there were priests, Magi, and philosophers. . . .
It is a more thorny question than it has been considered, and one by no means profoundly examined, whether several gods, equal in power, can exist at the same time?
We have no adequate idea of the Divinity; we creep on from conjecture to conjecture, from likelihood to probability. We have very few certainties. There is something; therefore there is something eternal; for nothing is produced from nothing. Here is a certain truth on which the mind reposes. Every work which shows us means and an end, announces a workman; then this universe, composed of springs, of means, each of which has its end, discovers a most mighty, a most intelligent workman. Here is a probability approaching the greatest certainty. But is this supreme artificer infinite? Is he everywhere? Is he in one place? How are we, with our feeble intelligence and limited knowledge, to answer these questions?
My reason alone proves to me a being who has arranged the matter of this world; but my reason is unable to prove to me that he made this matter—that he brought it out of nothing. All the sages of antiquity, without exception, believed matter to be eternal, and existing by itself. All then that I can do, without the aid of superior light, is to believe that the God of this world is also eternal, and existing by Himself. God and matter exist by the nature of things. May not other gods exist, as well as other worlds? Whole nations, and very enlightened schools, have clearly admitted two gods in this world—one the source of good, the other the source of evil. They admitted an eternal war between two equal powers. Assuredly, nature can more easily suffer the existence of several independent beings in the immensity of space, than that of limited and powerless gods in this world, of whom one can do no good, and the other no harm.
If God and matter exist from all eternity, as antiquity believed, here then are two necessary beings; now, if there be two necessary beings, there may be thirty. These doubts alone, which are the germ of an infinity of reflections, serve at least to convince us of the feebleness of our understanding. We must, with Cicero, confess our ignorance of the nature of the Divinity; we shall never know any more of it than he did.
In vain do the schools tell us that God is infinite negatively and not privatively, formally and not materially, that he is the first act, the middle, and the last, that he is everywhere without being in any place; a hundred pages of commentaries on definitions like these cannot give us the smallest light. We have no steps whereby to arrive at such knowledge.
We feel that we are under the hand of an invisible being; this is all; we cannot advance one step farther. It is mad audacity to seek to divine what this being is—whether he is extended or not, whether he is in one place or not, how he exists, or how he operates.
Arguments For and Against Atheism (Philosophical Dictionary, Atheism, Sect. 2)
Design Argument for God
We are intelligent beings, and intelligent beings cannot have been formed by a blind, brute, insensible being; there is certainly some difference between a clod and the ideas of Newton. Newton's intelligence, then, came from some other intelligence.
When we see a fine machine, we say there is a good machinist, and that he has an excellent understanding. The world is assuredly an admirable machine; therefore there is in the world, somewhere or other, an admirable intelligence. This argument is old, but is not therefore the worse.
All animated bodies are composed of levers and pulleys, which act according to the laws of mechanics; of liquors, which are kept in perpetual circulation by the laws of hydrostatics; and the reflection that all these beings have sentiment which has no relation to their organization, fills us with wonder.
The motions of the stars, that of our little earth round the sun—all are operated according to the laws of the profoundest mathematics. . . [which suggests that] that there exists a forming Intelligence.
Argument for Atheism from Chance Combinations
I have, however, known obstinate individuals, who have said that there is no forming intelligence, and that motion alone has formed all that we see and all that we are. They say boldly that the combination of this universe was possible because it exists; therefore it was possible for motion of itself to arrange it. Take four planets only—Mars, Venus, Mercury, and the Earth; let us consider them solely in the situations in which they now are. Let us see how many probabilities we have that motion will bring them again to those respective places. There are but twenty-four chances in this combination; that is, it is only twenty-four to one that these planets will not be found in the same situations with respect to one another. To these four globes add that of Jupiter; and it is then only a hundred and twenty to one that Jupiter, Mars, Venus, Mercury, and our globe will not be placed in the same positions in which we now see them.
Lastly, add Saturn; and there will then be only seven hundred and twenty chances to one against putting these planets in their present arrangement, according to their given distances. It is, then, demonstrated that once, at least, in seven hundred and twenty cases, chance might place these planets in their present order.
Then take all the secondary planets, all their motions, all the beings that vegetate, live, feel, think, act, on all these globes. You have only to increase the number of chances. Multiply this number to all eternity—to what our weakness calls infinity—there will still be an unit in favor of the formation of the world, such as it is, by motion alone. Therefore it is possible that, in all eternity, the motion of matter alone has produced the universe as it exists. Nay, this combination must, in eternity, of necessity happen. Thus, say they, not only it is possible that the world is as it is by motion alone, but it was impossible that it should not be so after infinite combinations.
Criticism of the Argument for Atheism
All this supposition seems to me to be immensely chimerical, for two reasons. The first is, that in this universe there are intelligent beings, and you cannot prove it possible for motion alone to produce understanding. The second is, that, by your own confession, the chances are infinity to unity, that an intelligent forming cause produced the universe. Standing alone against infinity, a unit makes but a poor figure.
Again Spinoza himself admits this intelligence; it is the basis of his system. You have not read him, but you must read him. Why would you go further than he, and, through a foolish pride, plunge into the abyss where Spinoza dared not to descend? Are you not aware of the extreme folly of saying that it is owing to a blind cause that the square of the revolution of one planet is always to the squares of the others as the cube of its distance is to the cubes of the distances of the others from the common centre? Either the planets are great geometricians, or the Eternal Geometrician has arranged the planets.
Whether a Society of Atheists is Possible (Philosophical Dictionary, "Atheism", Section 1)
[Arnobius the Christian apologist] challenged the pagans, asking, "Aren't you ashamed to accuse us of despising your gods? Isn't it better to have no religion at all than to attribute shameful actions to them?" This was the same argument Plutarch made long before, when he wrote that he would rather people believed that Plutarch himself never existed than believe he was indecisive, quick-tempered, and vindictive. It is a view that Pierre Bayle later reinforced with all the force of his logic.
Such is the ground of dispute, which is placed in a very striking point of view by the Jesuit Richeome, and made still more fallacious by the way in which Bayle sets it off:
"There are two porters at the door of a house. You ask to speak to the master. The one answers that he is not at home. The other answers that he is at home, but is busy making false money, false contracts, daggers, and poisons, to destroy those who are only carrying out his plans. The atheist resembles the former of these porters, the pagan the latter. It is then evident that the pagan offends the Divinity more seriously than the atheist."
With the permission of Father Richeome, and that of Bayle himself, this is not at all the state of the question. For the first porter to be like the atheist, he must say, not "My master is not here," but "I have no master; he who you pretend is my master does not exist. My comrade is a blockhead to tell you that the gentleman is engaged in mixing poisons and sharpening daggers to assassinate those who have carried out his will. There is no such being in the world." . . .
Philosophers almost always fall unconsciously into the ideas of the vulgar, in supposing that God is jealous of his glory, wrathful, and given to revenge, and in taking rhetorical figures for real ideas. That which interests the whole world is to know whether it is not better to admit a rewarding and avenging God, recompensing hidden good actions, and punishing secret crimes, than to admit no God at all.
Bayle exhausts himself in repeating all the infamous things imputed to the gods of antiquity. His adversaries answer him by unmeaning commonplaces. The partisans and the enemies of Bayle have almost always fought without coming to close quarters. They all agree that Jupiter was an adulterer, Venus a wanton, Mercury a rogue. But this, I conceive, ought not to be considered; the religion of the ancient Romans should be distinguished from Ovid's "Metamorphoses." It is quite certain that neither they nor even the Greeks ever had a temple dedicated to Mercury the Rogue, Venus the Wanton, or Jupiter the Adulterer. . . .
Then, it is asked, can a people of atheists exist? I consider that a distinction must be made between the people, properly so called, and a society of philosophers above the people. It is true that, in every country, the populace require the strongest curb; and that if Bayle had had but five or six hundred peasants to govern, he would not have failed to announce to them a rewarding and avenging God. But Bayle would have said nothing about them to the Epicureans, who were people of wealth, fond of quiet, cultivating all the social virtues, and friendship in particular, shunning the dangers and embarrassments of public affairs—leading, in short, a life of ease and innocence. The dispute, so far as it regards policy and society, seems to me to end here.
As for people entirely savage, they can be counted neither among the theists nor among the atheists. To ask them what is their creed would be like asking them if they are for Aristotle or Democritus [the atomist]. They know nothing. They are no more atheists than they are peripatetics [i.e., followers Aristotle].
But, it may be insisted, that they live in society, though they have no God, and that, therefore, society may subsist without religion.
In that case, I reply that wolves live that way, and that a gathering of brutal cannibals, as you imagine them, is no true society. Furthermore, I ask you: if you lend your money to someone in your [actual] society, would you really want neither your debtor, nor your attorney, nor your notary, nor your judge to believe in a God?" [i.e., An atheist attorney who fears disbarment and disgrace is far safer to work with than a dishonest believer who thinks divine grace fixes everything.]
If God did Not Exist, we would Need to Invent Him (The Three Impostors, 1768)
My house is full of lizards and rats; / but the architect still exists, and anyone who denies it / while wearing the cloak of a "wise man" is simply deranged. / Ask Zoroaster, Minos, Solon, / the martyr Socrates, the great Cicero— / they all worshipped a master, a judge, a father. / This sublime idea is necessary to humanity. / It is the sacred bond of society, / the first foundation of justice, / the curb on the criminal, the hope of the just.
If the heavens, stripped of God's majestic imprint, / could ever cease to reveal Him— / if God did not exist, we would have to invent Him. / Let the wise proclaim Him, and let kings fear Him. / Kings, if you oppress me—if your grandeur scorns / the tears of the innocent you make shed— / my avenger is in heaven: learn to tremble. / Such, at least, is the fruit of a useful belief.
But you—false reasoner—whose gloomy recklessness / encourages men along the path of crime, / what good can your fine arguments do you? / Will your children obey you better for hearing them? / Will your friends be more loyal and helpful in need? / Will your wife be more virtuous? And will your new tenant, / because he does not believe in God, pay his rent more faithfully? / Ah! Let us leave human beings their fear and their hope. . . .
CRITIQUE OF ORTHODOXY, OPTIMISM, AND SUPERSTITION
Deism as Universal Moral Religion (Philosophical Dictionary, "Theism, Theist").
Theism [i.e., deism] is a religion diffused through all religions; it is a metal which mixes itself with all the others, the veins of which extend under ground to the four corners of the world. This mine is more openly worked in China; everywhere else it is hidden, and the secret is only in the hands of the experts. . . .
Many persons ask whether theism [i.e., deism], considered abstractedly, and without any religious ceremony, is in fact a religion? The answer is easy: he who recognizes only a creating God, he who views in God only a Being infinitely powerful, and who sees in His creatures only wonderful machines, is not religious towards Him any more than a European, admiring the king of China, would thereby profess allegiance to that prince. But he who thinks that God chose to place a relation between Himself and mankind; that He has made man free, capable of good and evil; that He has given all of them that good sense which is the instinct of man, and on which the law of nature is founded; such a one undoubtedly has a religion, and a much better religion than all those sects who are unaffiliated with our Church. For all these sects are false, and the law of nature is true. Thus, theism is good sense not yet instructed by revelation; and other religions are good sense perverted by superstition.
All sects differ, because they come from men; morality is everywhere the same because it comes from God. It is asked why, out of five or six hundred sects, there have scarcely been any who have not spilled blood; and why the theists [i.e., deists], who are everywhere so numerous, have never caused the least disturbance? It is because they are philosophers. Now philosophers may reason badly, but they never intrigue. Those who persecute a philosopher, under the pretext that his opinions may be dangerous to the public, are as absurd as those who are afraid that the study of algebra will raise the price of bread in the market; one must pity a thinking being who errs; the persecutor is frantic and horrible. We are all brethren; if one of my brothers, full of respect and filial love, inspired by the most fraternal charity, does not salute our common Father with the same ceremonies as I do, ought I to cut his throat and tear out his heart? . . .
The theist [i.e., deist] is a man firmly persuaded of the existence of a Supreme Being equally good and powerful, who has formed all extended, vegetating, sentient, and reflecting existences; who perpetuates their species, who punishes crimes without cruelty, and rewards virtuous actions with kindness.
The theist [i.e., deist] does not know how God punishes, how He rewards, how He pardons for he is not presumptuous enough to flatter himself that he understands how God acts; but he knows that God does act, and that He is just. The difficulties opposed to a providence do not stagger him in his faith, because they are only great difficulties, not proofs. He submits himself to that providence, although he only perceives some of its effects and some appearances. Judging of the things he does not see from those he does see, he thinks that this providence pervades all places and all ages.
United in this principle with the rest of the universe, he does not join any of the sects, who all contradict themselves. His religion is the most ancient and the most extended, for the simple adoration of a God has preceded all the systems in the world. He speaks a language which all nations understand, while they are unable to understand each other's. He has brethren from Pekin to Cayenne, and he reckons all the wise his brothers. He believes that religion consists neither in the opinions of incomprehensible metaphysics, nor in vain decorations, but in adoration and justice. To do good—that is his worship; to submit oneself to God—that is his doctrine. The Mahometan cries out to him: "Take care of yourself, if you do not make the pilgrimage to Mecca." "Woe be to thee," says a Franciscan, "if thou dost not make a journey to our Lady of Loretto." He laughs at Loretto and Mecca; but he succors the indigent and defends the oppressed.
Faith as the Annihilation of Reason (Philosophical Dictionary, "Faith" sect 2)
Divine faith, about which so much has been written, is evidently nothing more than disbelief brought on by force. For we certainly have no other faculty than the understanding by which we can believe; and the objects of faith are not those of the understanding. We can believe only what appears to be true. Nothing can appear true but in one of the three following ways: by intuition or feeling (as in, I exist, I see the sun); by an accumulation of probability amounting to certainty (as in, there is a city called Constantinople); or by positive demonstration (as in, triangles of the same base and height are equal.
Faith, therefore, being nothing at all of this description, can no more be a belief, a persuasion, than it can be yellow or red. It can be nothing but the annihilation of reason, a silence of adoration at the contemplation of things absolutely incomprehensible. Thus, speaking philosophically, no person believes the Trinity. No person believes that the same body can be in a thousand places at once. He who says, I believe these mysteries, will see, beyond the possibility of a doubt (if he reflects for a moment on what passes in his mind) that these words mean no more than, I respect these mysteries; I submit myself to those who announce them. For they agree with me, even though my reason, or their own reason, does not believe them. But it is clear that if my reason is not persuaded, I am not persuaded. I and my reason cannot possibly be two different beings. It is an absolute contradiction that I should receive that as true which my understanding rejects as false. Faith, therefore, is nothing but submissive or deferential incredulity.
But why should this submission be exercised when my understanding inevitably retreats? The reason, we well know, is, that my understanding has been persuaded that the mysteries of my faith are laid down by God Himself. All, then, that I can do, as a reasonable being, is to be silent and adore. This is what divines call external faith. This faith neither is, nor can be, anything more than respect for things incomprehensible, in consequence of the reliance I place on those who teach them.
If God Himself were to say to me, "Thought is of an olive color"; "the square of a certain number is bitter"; I should certainly understand nothing at all from these words. I could not adopt them either as true or false. But I will repeat them, if He commands me to do it; and I will make others repeat them at the risk of my life. This is not faith; it is nothing more than obedience.
This is Not the Best Possible Word (Philosophical Dictionary, "Optimism")
According to Plato, God necessarily chose the best of all possible worlds; and this system has been embraced by many Christian philosophers, although it appears opposed to the doctrine of original sin. After the disobedience of the first sin, our globe was no longer the best of all possible worlds. If it was ever so it might be so still, but many people believe it to be the worst of worlds instead of the best.
Leibniz takes the position of Plato. More readers than one complain of their inability to understand either of these writers. For myself, having read both of them more than once, I confess my ignorance according to custom. Since the gospel has revealed nothing on the subject, we remain in darkness without remorse.
Leibniz, who writes on every subject, discusses original sin. Since every system-builder introduces into his plan something contradictory, Leibniz imagined that the disobedience towards God, with the frightful misfortunes which followed it, were integral parts of the best of worlds, and necessary ingredients of all possible happiness. What! To be chased from a delightful place, where we might have lived forever only because of eating an apple? What! To produce unhappy children in misery who will suffer everything, and in return produce others to suffer after them? What! To experience all troubles, feel all pains, die in the midst of grief, and by way of compensation be burned to all eternity: is this fate the best possible? It certainly is not good for us, and in what manner can it be so for God? Leibniz felt that nothing could be said to these objections, but nevertheless he made great books in which he did not even understand himself.
[The Roman statesman] Lucullus, in good health, enjoying a good dinner with his friends and his mistress in the hall of Apollo, may jokingly deny the existence of evil. But let him put his head out of the window and he will see miserable people in abundance; let him be gripped with a fever, and he will be a miserable person himself.
I do not like to quote; it is typically a tricky matter. Nevertheless, what precedes and what follows the passage I just quoted is too frequently neglected; and thus a thousand objections may rise. I must, notwithstanding, quote Lactantius, one of the [early Christian] fathers, who, in the thirteenth chapter on The Anger of God, makes Epicurus speak as follows: "God can either take away evil from the world and will not; or being willing to do so, cannot; or he neither can nor will; or, lastly, he is both able and willing. If he is willing to remove evil and cannot, then he is not omnipotent. If he can, but will not remove it, then he is not benevolent; if he is neither able nor willing, then he is neither powerful nor benevolent; lastly, if he is both able and willing to eliminate evil, why does evil exist?" The argument is weighty, and Lactantius replies to it very poorly by saying that God wills evil, but has given us wisdom to obtain the good. It must be confessed that this answer is very weak in comparison with the objection since it implies that God could bestow wisdom only by allowing evil—a pleasant wisdom truly! The origin of evil has always been an abyss, the depth of which no one has been able to measure. It was this difficulty that forced so many ancient philosophers and legislators to resort to two principles—the one good, the other evil. Typhon was the evil principle among the Egyptians, Arimanes among the Persians. The Manicheans, it is said, adopted this theory; but as these people have never spoken either of a good or of a bad principle, we have nothing to prove it. . . .
There is a constant and regular order established among animals of all kinds, a universal order. When a stone is formed in my bladder, the mechanical process is admirable. Sandy particles pass by small degrees into my blood; they are filtered by the veins; and passing the urethra, deposit themselves in my bladder; where, uniting delightfully according to Newton's theory of attraction, a stone is formed. It gradually increases, and I suffer pains a thousand times worse than death, all by means of the most admirable mechanism in the world. A surgeon who is an expert in the art of Tubalcain [i.e., metalworking], thrusts a sharp instrument into me. Cutting into the perineum, grabs hold of the stone with his pincers, which breaks during the event by the necessary laws of mechanics. Owing to the same mechanism, I die in frightful torments. All this is "for the best," being the evident result of unchanging physical principles, agreeably to which I know as well as you that I die. If we were incapable of feeling, there would be nothing to say against this system of physics; but that is not the point here. I ask whether there are physical evils, and from where do they originate? There is no absolute evil, says Pope in his "Essay on Man"; and if there are particular evils, they are part of a general good. It is a singular general good that is composed of the kidney stone and the gout, of all sorts of crime and suffering, and of death and damnation. . . .
This system of "all for the best" represents the author of nature as a powerful and malevolent monarch, who cares neither for the destruction of four or five hundred thousand men, nor for the many more who in consequence spend the rest of their days in poverty and tears, so long as he succeeds in his designs.
Thus, the view that "this is the best of all possible worlds" gives us no consolation, and is instead a hopeless doctrine to the philosophers who embrace it. The question of good and evil remains in permanent chaos for those who seek to understand it in reality. It is a mere mental sport to the disputants who are like prisoners that play with their chains. As to unreasoning people, they resemble the fish that are transported from a river to a reservoir, with no more suspicion that they are to be eaten during the approaching season of Lent, than we have ourselves of the facts which originate our destiny. Let us place at the end of every chapter of metaphysics the two letters used by the Roman judges when they did not understand a pleading: N. L., non liquet, that is, "it is not clear." Let us, above all, silence the scoundrels who, overloaded like ourselves with the weight of human tragedy, add the injury of their slander. Let us refute their appalling dishonesty by turning instead to faith and providence. Some reasoners hold the opinion that it is inconsistent with the nature of the Great Being of Beings for things to be otherwise than they are. It is a rough system, and I am too ignorant to attempt to examine it.
Against Superstitions (Philosophical Dictionary, "Superstition")
I have sometimes heard you say—We are no longer superstitious; the reformation of the sixteenth century has made us more prudent; the Protestants have taught us better manners.
But what then is the blood of a St. Januarius, which you liquefy every year by bringing it near his head? Would it not be better to make ten thousand beggars earn their bread, by employing them in useful tasks, than to boil the blood of a saint for their amusement? Think rather how to make their pots boil. . . .
There are wise men who assert, that we should leave the people their superstitions, as we leave them their raree-shows, etc. The people have at all times been fond of prodigies, fortune-tellers, pilgrimages, and quack-doctors. In the most remote antiquity they celebrated Bacchus delivered from the waves, wearing horns, making a fountain of wine issue from a rock by a stroke of his wand, passing the Red Sea on dry ground with all his people, stopping the sun and moon, etc. At Lacedæmon they kept the two eggs brought forth by Leda, hanging from the dome of a temple. In some towns of Greece the priests showed the knife with which Iphigenia had been immolated, etc.
There are other wise men who say—Not one of these superstitions has produced any good; many of them have done great harm: let them then be abolished. . . .
Can there exist a people free from all superstitious prejudices? This is asking, Can there exist a people of philosophers? It is said that there is no superstition in the magistracy of China. It is likely that the magistracy of some towns in Europe will also be free from it. These magistrates will then prevent the superstition of the people from being dangerous. Their example will not enlighten the mob, but the leading citizens will restrain it. Formerly, there was not perhaps a single religious uproar, not a single act of violence, in which the townspeople did not take part, because these townspeople were then part of the mob. But reason and time have changed them. Their better manners will improve those of the lowest and most violent of the populace; of which, in more countries than one, we have striking examples. In short, the fewer superstitions, the less fanaticism; and the less fanaticism, the fewer calamities.
Source: Voltaire: Philosophical Dictionary (1764), translated by William F. Fleming; Epître à l'auteur du livre des Trois imposteurs (1768), independently machine translated from the original French.
_______________________
DAVID HUME:
AGAINST GOD AND RELIGION
David Hume (1711–1776) was born in Edinburgh to a modest but respectable family and was educated at the University of Edinburgh. He began studies in law before turning instead to a life of independent philosophical inquiry. After several years of private study in France, he completed his Treatise of Human Nature (1739–40), a work he later described as falling "dead‑born from the press," though it laid the foundation for his empiricist account of the mind, causation, and morality. He went on to publish the more accessible Essays, Moral and Political (1741–42) and the Enquiry volumes (1748, 1751), which gradually established his reputation as one of Britain's leading men of letters. He broadened his intellectual and social circle during periods of service as a librarian and later as a diplomat in Paris. During this time he also completed his multi‑volume History of England, one of the most widely read historical works of the century. He died in Edinburgh in 1776 after a year-long battle with stomach cancer, staunchly denying the afterlife on his death bed.
Hume was a critic of virtually every aspect of religion, and, privately, was almost certainly an atheist. Although he had more freedom to publicly express his religious critique than writers did in previous generations, he still needed to be cautious. He sometimes presented himself as a deist, which enabled him to criticize revealed religion while only loosely affirming God's existence. His most sustained critique is Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion, written around 1755, which he suppressed during his life, and arranged for its publication after his death. The selections below are from his Dialogues and four other writings.
In the section against miracles, Hume argues that the evidence from consistent laws of nature will always outweigh reports of miracles which allegedly violate laws of nature. No human testimony, he says, can ever achieve the force necessary to overbalance this experience. He lists four additional factors that further discredit miracle reports: (1) witnesses typically lack integrity, (2) people are predisposed to sensational stories, (3) reports of miracles are typically from primitive countries, and (4) miracles support rival religious systems, and thus nullify each other. He concludes that the Christian religion cannot be believed by any reasonable person without a continued miracle in their own person that subverts the understanding.
In the section against immortality, Hume maintains that the fate of the soul is inextricably linked with the fate of the body. Physical arguments from the analogy of nature demonstrate that the mind and body undergo proportional alterations during infancy, sickness, and old age, thus their common dissolution in death seems unavoidable. Further, he argues, the material world exists in a continual flux, and it is contrary to analogy to imagine that the human soul is the only immortal form in nature. Our complete lack of consciousness before birth serves as natural proof of a similar state of tranquility after death. Because no one has ever observed a posthumous existence, he asserts that a negative position must prevail in the absence of divine revelation that might claim otherwise.
In the sections on the design argument from analogy, Hume examines the following argument: (1) machines such as watches are the products of intelligent design; (2) the natural world resembles a machine; (3) therefore, the natural world is the product of intelligent design. For several reasons, he argues that the analogy fails. A house or a ship belongs to a specific class of effects with known human causes, but the universe is a single, individual object without specific parallel. Also, we cannot transfer a conclusion from a minute part of nature, such as human thought, to the origin of the complete whole. Further, even if the design argument holds, it cannot establish that the creator is infinite, perfect, or one. Finally, the presence of unexplained natural difficulties suggests that this world might be a faulty performance abandoned by an infant deity, and the cooperative nature of human projects implies that a plurality of deities could have combined to form the universe.
In the section on the causal argument, Hume examines the following argument proposed by Leibniz: (1) The world contains an infinite series of dependent objects; (2) The explanation of the series is either within the series itself or a necessary being outside that series; (3) The explanation of the series cannot reside in the series itself, since the very fact of the series' existence would still need an explanation; (4) Therefore, the explanation of the series consists of a necessary being outside the series. He rejects this argument on two main grounds. First, the material universe itself might be the necessarily existent entity, for we do not know all the qualities of matter. Second, and most famously, explaining the immediate cause of each individual part in the succession is completely sufficient to explain the whole. For, the uniting of distinct parts into a collection is merely an arbitrary act of the mind, not a reflection of reality itself.
In the section on the problem of evil, Hume argues that the suffering we experience in the world prevents us from attributing to God the attribute of moral goodness. First, he argues that the happiness that we experience in life is limited, and this does not come close to counterbalancing widespread suffering. Second, we cannot solve this problem by conceding our human ignorance of the whole plan. For, we cannot infer a good creator from a world filled with misery, since any logical conclusion must rely on what we actually see rather than what we do not know. Just as we blame an architect for a poorly designed house with broken layout choices, we must judge the creator by the visible flaws of the world. In the section on the impossibility of knowing God's moral qualities, Hume argues that human emotions like love, pity, and gratitude exist purely to help our species survive, consequently they cannot apply to a supreme being who is so unlike us. Further, we can't even say that God's mind is anything like ours. Human consciousness as is entirely shifting and fleeting, so, if we remove those human aspects of our minds from a more general concept of intelligence, there is nothing left to apply to God.
In the section on the conceptions of an immoral God, Hume argues that popular religions grow out from anxiety about the future, which then gives rise to terrifying images of divine anger and cruelty. In the next section Hume argues that most religious followers try to appease God through superstition and empty rituals, good behavior. People naturally imagine God as a larger version of themselves, yet they ignore basic moral duties because moral treatment of others feels like an obligation to society, not a direct favor to God. A superstitious person practices useless self-denial like fasting or self-punishment precisely because it goes against human nature, making the act feel purely religious and uniquely pleasing to God. Finally, in the section on the immoral character of the clergy, he warns that the ministry forces clergy to fake a religious devotion that they do not feel, which breeds a culture of hypocrisy to maintain power over uneducated people. This institutional setup makes clergy prideful, hateful and intolerant. Consequently, it is wise for government to keep a close eye on religious factions.
MIRACLES AND IMMORTALITY
Against Miracles (Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, Sect. 10, 1748)
Miracle Testimonies Outweighed by Experience of Consistent Natural Laws
A wise man, therefore, proportions his belief to the evidence. In such conclusions as are founded on an infallible experience, he expects the event with the last degree of assurance, and regards his past experience as a full proof of the future existence of that event. In other cases, he proceeds with more caution: He weighs the opposite experiments: He considers which side is supported by the greater number of experiments: To that side he inclines, with doubt and hesitation; and when at last he fixes his judgement, the evidence exceeds not what we properly call probability. All probability, then, supposes an opposition of experiments and observations, where the one side is found to overbalance the other, and to produce a degree of evidence, proportioned to the superiority. A hundred instances or experiments on one side, and fifty on another, afford a doubtful expectation of any event; though a hundred uniform experiments, with only one that is contradictory, reasonably beget a pretty strong degree of assurance. In all cases, we must balance the opposite experiments, where they are opposite, and deduct the smaller number from the greater, in order to know the exact force of the superior evidence. . . .
A miracle is a violation of the laws of nature; and as a firm and unalterable experience has established these laws, the proof against a miracle, from the very nature of the fact, is as entire as any argument from experience can possibly be imagined. Why is it more than probable, that all men must die; that lead cannot, of itself, remain suspended in the air; that fire consumes wood, and is extinguished by water; unless it be, that these events are found agreeable to the laws of nature, and there is required a violation of these laws, or in other words, a miracle to prevent them? Nothing is esteemed a miracle, if it ever happen in the common course of nature. It is no miracle that a man, seemingly in good health, should die on a sudden: Because such a kind of death, though more unusual than any other, has yet been frequently observed to happen. But it is a miracle, that a dead man should come to life; because that has never been observed in any age or country. There must, therefore, be a uniform experience against every miraculous event, otherwise the event would not merit that appellation. And as a uniform experience amounts to a proof, there is here a direct and full proof, from the nature of the fact, against the existence of any miracle; nor can such a proof be destroyed, or the miracle rendered credible, but by an opposite proof, which is superior. . . .
Four Additional Factors that Discredit Miracle Reports
In the foregoing reasoning we have supposed, that the testimony, upon which a miracle is founded, may possibly amount to an entire proof, and that the falsehood of that testimony would be a real prodigy: But it is easy to shew, that we have been a great deal too liberal in our concession, and that there never was a miraculous event established on so full an evidence.
For first, there is not to be found, in all history, any miracle attested by a sufficient number of men, of such unquestioned good-sense, education, and learning, as to secure us against all delusion in themselves; of such undoubted integrity, as to place them beyond all suspicion of any design to deceive others; of such credit and reputation in the eyes of mankind, as to have a great deal to lose in case of their being detected in any falsehood; and at the same time, attesting facts performed in such a public manner and in so celebrated a part of the world, as to render the detection unavoidable: All which circumstances are requisite to give us a full assurance in the testimony of men.
Secondly. . . . The passion of surprise and wonder, arising from miracles, being an agreeable emotion, gives a sensible tendency towards the belief of those events, from which it is derived. And this goes so far, that even those who cannot enjoy this pleasure immediately, nor can believe those miraculous events, of which they are informed, yet love to partake of the satisfaction at second-hand or by rebound, and place a pride and delight in exciting the admiration of others.
With what greediness are the miraculous accounts of travellers received, their descriptions of sea and land monsters, their relations of wonderful adventures, strange men, and uncouth manners? But if the spirit of religion join itself to the love of wonder, there is an end of common sense; and human testimony, in these circumstances, loses all pretensions to authority. A religionist may be an enthusiast, and imagine he sees what has no reality: he may know his narrative to be false, and yet persevere in it, with the best intentions in the world, for the sake of promoting so holy a cause: or even where this delusion has not place, vanity, excited by so strong a temptation, operates on him more powerfully than on the rest of mankind in any other circumstances; and self-interest with equal force. His auditors may not have, and commonly have not, sufficient judgement to canvass his evidence: what judgement they have, they renounce by principle, in these sublime and mysterious subjects: or if they were ever so willing to employ it, passion and a heated imagination disturb the regularity of its operations. Their credulity increases his impudence: and his impudence overpowers their credulity. . . .
Thirdly. It forms a strong presumption against all supernatural and miraculous relations, that they are observed chiefly to abound among ignorant and barbarous nations; or if a civilized people has ever given admission to any of them, that people will be found to have received them from ignorant and barbarous ancestors, who transmitted them with that inviolable sanction and authority, which always attend received opinions. When we peruse the first histories of all nations, we are apt to imagine ourselves transported into some new world; where the whole frame of nature is disjointed, and every element performs its operations in a different manner, from what it does at present. Battles, revolutions, pestilence, famine and death, are never the effect of those natural causes, which we experience. Prodigies, omens, oracles, judgements, quite obscure the few natural events, that are intermingled with them. But as the former grow thinner every page, in proportion as we advance nearer the enlightened ages, we soon learn, that there is nothing mysterious or supernatural in the case, but that all proceeds from the usual propensity of mankind towards the marvellous, and that, though this inclination may at intervals receive a check from sense and learning, it can never be thoroughly extirpated from human nature. . . .
I may add as a fourth reason, which diminishes the authority of prodigies, that there is no testimony for any, even those which have not been expressly detected, that is not opposed by an infinite number of witnesses; so that not only the miracle destroys the credit of testimony, but the testimony destroys itself. To make this the better understood, let us consider, that, in matters of religion, whatever is different is contrary; and that it is impossible the religions of ancient Rome, of Turkey, of Siam, and of China should, all of them, be established on any solid foundation. Every miracle, therefore, pretended to have been wrought in any of these religions (and all of them abound in miracles), as its direct scope is to establish the particular system to which it is attributed; so has it the same force, though more indirectly, to overthrow every other system. In destroying a rival system, it likewise destroys the credit of those miracles, on which that system was established; so that all the prodigies of different religions are to be regarded as contrary facts, and the evidences of these prodigies, whether weak or strong, as opposite to each other.
Summary
Upon the whole, then, it appears, that no testimony for any kind of miracle has ever amounted to a probability, much less to a proof; and that, even supposing it amounted to a proof, it would be opposed by another proof; derived from the very nature of the fact, which it would endeavor to establish [i.e., consistent laws of nature]. It is experience only, which gives authority to human testimony; and it is the same experience, which assures us of the laws of nature. When, therefore, these two kinds of experience are contrary, we have nothing to do but subtract the one from the other, and embrace an opinion, either on one side or the other, with that assurance which arises from the remainder. But according to the principle here explained, this subtraction, with regard to all popular religions, amounts to an entire annihilation; and therefore we may establish it as a maxim, that no human testimony can have such force as to prove a miracle, and make it a just foundation for any such system of religion. . . .
So that, upon the whole, we may conclude, that the Christian Religion not only was at first attended with miracles, but even at this day cannot be believed by any reasonable person without one. Mere reason is insufficient to convince us of its veracity: And whoever is moved by Faith to assent to it, is conscious of a continued miracle in his own person, which subverts all the principles of his understanding, and gives him a determination to believe what is most contrary to custom and experience.
Against Immortality: Fate of Soul linked with Fate of Body ("Of the Immortality of the Soul," 1756)
3. The physical arguments [against immortality] from the analogy of nature are strong for the mortality of the soul, and are really the only philosophical arguments which ought to be admitted with regard to this question, or indeed any question of fact. -- Where any two objects are so closely connected that all alterations which we have ever seen in the one, are attended with proportionable alterations in the other; we ought to conclude by all rules of analogy, that, when there are still greater alterations produced in the former, and it is totally dissolved, there follows a total dissolution of the latter. -- Sleep, a very small effect on the body, is attended with a temporary extinction, at least a great confusion in the soul. -- The weakness of the body and that of the mind in infancy are exactly proportioned, their vigor in manhood, their sympathetic disorder in sickness; their common gradual decay in old age. The step further seems unavoidable; their common dissolution in death. The last symptoms which the mind discovers are disorder, weakness, insensibility, and stupidity, the fore-runners of its annihilation. The farther progress of the same causes increasing, the same effects totally extinguish it. Judging by the usual analogy of nature, no form can continue when transferred to a condition of life very different from the original one, in which it was placed. Trees perish in the water, fishes in the air, animals in the earth. Even so small a difference as that of climate is often fatal. What reason then to imagine, that an immense alteration, such as is made on the soul by the dissolution of its body and all its organs of thought and sensation, can be effected without the dissolution of the whole? Everything is in common betwixt soul and body. The organs of the one are all of them the organs of the other. The existence therefore of the one must be dependent on that of the other. -- The souls of animals are allowed to be mortal; and these bear so near a resemblance to the souls of men, that the analogy from one to the other forms a very strong argument. Their bodies are not more resembling; yet no one rejects the argument drawn from comparative anatomy. The metempsychosis is therefore the only system of this kind that philosophy can harken to.
Nothing in this world is perpetual, everything however seemingly firm is in continual flux and change, the world itself gives symptoms of frailty and dissolution. How contrary to analogy, therefore, to imagine that one single form, seemingly the frailest of any, and subject to the greatest disorders, is immortal and indissoluble? What daring theory is that! how lightly, not to say how rashly entertained! How to dispose of the infinite number of posthumous existences ought also to embarrass the religious theory. Every planet in every solar system we are at liberty to imagine peopled with intelligent mortal beings, at least we can fix on no other supposition. For these then a new universe must every generation be created beyond the bounds of the present universe, or one must have been created at first so prodigiously wise as to admit of this continual influx of beings. Ought such bold suppositions to be received by any philosophy, and that merely on there pretext of a bare possibility? When it is asked whether Agamemnon, Thersites, Hannibal, Varro, and every stupid clown that ever existed in Italy, Scythia, Bactria or Guinea, are now alive; can any man think, that a scrutiny of nature will furnish arguments strong enough to answer so strange a question in the affirmative? The want of argument without revelation sufficiently establishes the negative. –
"Quanto facilius (says Pliny) "certius que sibi quemque credere, ac specimen securitatis antigene tali sumere experimento" ["how much easier and safer for each to trust in himself, and for us to derive our idea of future tranquility from our experience of it before birth"]. Our insensibility before the composition of the body, seems to natural reason a proof of a like state after dissolution. Were our horrors of annihilation an original passion, not the effect of our general love of happiness, it would rather prove the mortality of the soul. For as nature does nothing in vain, she would never give us a horror against an impossible event. She may give us a horror against an unavoidable; yet the human species could not be preserved had not nature inspired us with and aversion toward it. All doctrines are to be suspected which are favored by our passions, and the hopes and fears which gave rise to this doctrine are very obvious.
It is an infinite advantage in every controversy to defend the negative. If the question be out of the common experienced course of nature, this circumstance is almost if not altogether decisive. By what arguments or analogies can we prove any state of existence, which no one ever saw, and which no way resembles any that ever was seen? Who will repose such trust in any pretended philosophy as to admit upon its testimony the reality of so marvelous a scene? Some new species of logic is requisite for that purpose, and some new faculties of the mind, that may enable us to comprehend that logic.
Nothing could set in a fuller light the infinite obligations which mankind have to divine revelation, since we find that no other medium could ascertain this great and important truth.
PROOFS FOR GOD
The Design Argument from Analogy Presented (Dialogues, 1779, 2)
Cleanthes: I shall briefly explain how I conceive this matter. Look round the world: contemplate the whole and every part of it: You will find it to be nothing but one great machine, subdivided into an infinite number of lesser machines, which again admit of subdivisions to a degree beyond what human senses and faculties can trace and explain. All these various machines, and even their most minute parts, are adjusted to each other with an accuracy which ravishes into admiration all men who have ever contemplated them. The curious adapting of means to ends, throughout all nature, resembles exactly, though it much exceeds, the productions of human contrivance; of human designs, thought, wisdom, and intelligence. Since, therefore, the effects resemble each other, we are led to infer, by all the rules of analogy, that the causes also resemble; and that the author of nature is somewhat similar to the mind of man, though possessed of much larger faculties, proportioned to the grandeur of the work which he has executed. By this argument a posteriori, and by this argument alone, do we prove at once the existence of a deity, and his similarity to human mind and intelligence.
Criticism 1 of Design Argument: Failure of the Analogy (Dialogues, 2)
Philo: That a stone will fall, that fire will burn, that the earth has solidity, we have observed a thousand and a thousand times; and when any new instance of this nature is presented, we draw without hesitation the accustomed inference. The exact similarity of the cases gives us a perfect assurance of a similar event; and a stronger evidence is never desired nor sought after. But wherever you depart, in the least, from the similarity of the cases, you diminish proportionably the evidence; and may at last bring it to a very weak analogy, which is confessedly liable to error and uncertainty. After having experienced the circulation of the blood in human creatures, we make no doubt that it takes place in Titius and Maevius. But from its circulation in frogs and fishes, it is only a presumption, though a strong one, from analogy, that it takes place in men and other animals. The analogical reasoning is much weaker, when we infer the circulation of the sap in vegetables from our experience that the blood circulates in animals; and those, who hastily followed that imperfect analogy, are found, by more accurate experiments, to have been mistaken.
If we see a house, Cleanthes, we conclude, with the greatest certainty, that it had an architect or builder; because this is precisely that species of effect which we have experienced to proceed from that species of cause. But surely you will not affirm, that the universe bears such a resemblance to a house, that we can with the same certainty infer a similar cause, or that the analogy is here entire and perfect. The dissimilitude is so striking, that the utmost you can here pretend to is a guess, a conjecture, a presumption concerning a similar cause; and how that pretension will be received in the world, I leave you to consider. . . .
But can you think, Cleanthes, that your usual phlegm and philosophy have been preserved in so wide a step as you have taken, when you compared to the universe houses, ships, furniture, machines, and, from their similarity in some circumstances, inferred a similarity in their causes? Thought, design, intelligence, such as we discover in men and other animals, is no more than one of the springs and principles of the universe, as well as heat or cold, attraction or repulsion, and a hundred others, which fall under daily observation. It is an active cause, by which some particular parts of nature, we find, produce alterations on other parts. But can a conclusion, with any propriety, be transferred from parts to the whole? Does not the great disproportion bar all comparison and inference? From observing the growth of a hair, can we learn anything concerning the generation of a man? Would the manner of a leaf's blowing, even though perfectly known, afford us any instruction concerning the vegetation of a tree?
But, allowing that we were to take the operations of one part of nature upon another, for the foundation of our judgment concerning the origin of the whole, (which never can be admitted) yet why select so minute, so weak, so bounded a principle, as the reason and design of animals is found to be upon this planet? What peculiar privilege has this little agitation of the brain which we call thought, that we must thus make it the model of the whole universe? Our partiality in our own favor does indeed present it on all occasions; but sound philosophy ought carefully to guard against so natural an illusion. . . . Nature, we find, even from our limited experience, possesses an infinite number of springs and principles, which incessantly discover themselves on every change of her position and situation. And what new and unknown principles would actuate her in so new and unknown a situation as that of the formation of a universe, we cannot, without the utmost temerity, pretend to determine.
A very small part of this great system, during a very short time, is very imperfectly discovered to us; and do we thence pronounce decisively concerning the origin of the whole? . . .
When two species of objects have always been observed to be conjoined together, I can infer, by custom, the existence of one wherever I see the existence of the other; and this I call an argument from experience. But how this argument can have place, where the objects, as in the present case, are single, individual, without parallel, or specific resemblance, may be difficult to explain. And will any man tell me with a serious countenance, that an orderly universe must arise from some thought and art like the human, because we have experience of it? To ascertain this reasoning, it were requisite that we had experience of the origin of worlds; and it is not sufficient, surely, that we have seen ships and cities arise from human art and contrivance.
Criticism 2 of the Design Argument: Creator not necessarily Infinite, Perfect, or One (Dialogues, 5)
Philo: First, by this method of reasoning, you renounce all claim to infinity in any of the attributes of the Deity. For, as the cause ought only to be proportioned to the effect, and the effect, so far as it falls under our cognizance, is not infinite; what pretensions have we, upon your suppositions, to ascribe that attribute to the Divine Being? You will still insist, that, by removing him so much from all similarity to human creatures, we give in to the most arbitrary hypothesis, and at the same time weaken all proofs of his existence.
Secondly, you have no reason, on your theory, for ascribing perfection to the Deity, even in his finite capacity, or for supposing him free from every error, mistake, or incoherence, in his undertakings. There are many inexplicable difficulties in the works of Nature, which, if we allow a perfect author to be proved a priori, are easily solved, and become only seeming difficulties, from the narrow capacity of man, who cannot trace infinite relations. But according to your method of reasoning, these difficulties become all real; and perhaps will be insisted on, as new instances of likeness to human art and contrivance. At least, you must acknowledge, that it is impossible for us to tell, from our limited views, whether this system contains any great faults, or deserves any considerable praise, if compared to other possible, and even real systems. Could a peasant, if the Aeneid were read to him, pronounce that poem to be absolutely faultless, or even assign to it its proper rank among the productions of human wit, he, who had never seen any other production?
But were this world ever so perfect a production, it must still remain uncertain, whether all the excellences of the work can justly be ascribed to the workman. If we survey a ship, what an exalted idea must we form of the ingenuity of the carpenter who framed so complicated, useful, and beautiful a machine? And what surprise must we feel, when we find him a stupid mechanic, who imitated others, and copied an art, which, through a long succession of ages, after multiplied trials, mistakes, corrections, deliberations, and controversies, had been gradually improving? Many worlds might have been botched and bungled, throughout an eternity, ere this system was struck out; much labor lost, many fruitless trials made; and a slow, but continued improvement carried on during infinite ages in the art of world-making. In such subjects, who can determine, where the truth; nay, who can conjecture where the probability lies, amidst a great number of hypotheses which may be proposed, and a still greater which may be imagined?
And what shadow of an argument. . . can you produce, from your hypothesis, to prove the unity of the Deity? A great number of men join in building a house or ship, in rearing a city, in framing a commonwealth; why may not several deities combine in contriving and framing a world? This is only so much greater similarity to human affairs. By sharing the work among several, we may so much further limit the attributes of each, and get rid of that extensive power and knowledge, which must be supposed in one deity, and which, according to you, can only serve to weaken the proof of his existence. And if such foolish, such vicious creatures as man, can yet often unite in framing and executing one plan, how much more those deities or demons, whom we may suppose several degrees more perfect! . . .
And why not become a perfect Anthropomorphite? Why not assert the deity or deities to be corporeal, and to have eyes, a nose, mouth, ears, etc.? Epicurus maintained, that no man had ever seen reason but in a human figure; therefore the gods must have a human figure. And this argument, which is deservedly so much ridiculed by Cicero, becomes, according to you, solid and philosophical.
In a word, Cleanthes, a man who follows your hypothesis is able perhaps to assert, or conjecture, that the universe, sometime, arose from something like design: but beyond that position he cannot ascertain one single circumstance; and is left afterwards to fix every point of his theology by the utmost license of fancy and hypothesis. This world, for aught he knows, is very faulty and imperfect, compared to a superior standard; and was only the first rude essay of some infant deity, who afterwards abandoned it, ashamed of his lame performance: it is the work only of some dependent, inferior deity; and is the object of derision to his superiors: it is the production of old age and dotage in some superannuated deity; and ever since his death, has run on at adventures, from the first impulse and active force which it received from him.
The Causal Argument Presented (Dialogues, 9)
Demea: The argument. . . which I would insist on, is the common one. Whatever exists must have a cause or reason of its existence; it being absolutely impossible for anything to produce itself, or be the cause of its own existence. In mounting up, therefore, from effects to causes, we must either go on in tracing an infinite succession, without any ultimate cause at all; or must at last have recourse to some ultimate cause, that is necessarily existent: Now, that the first supposition is absurd, may be thus proved. In the infinite chain or succession of causes and effects, each single effect is determined to exist by the power and efficacy of that cause which immediately preceded. But the whole eternal chain or succession, taken together, is not determined or caused by anything; and yet it is evident that it requires a cause or reason, as much as any particular object which begins to exist in time. The question is still reasonable, why this particular succession of causes existed from eternity, and not any other succession, or no succession at all. If there be no necessarily existent being, any supposition which can be formed is equally possible; nor is there any more absurdity in nothing's having existed from eternity, than there is in that succession of causes which constitutes the universe. What was it, then, which determined Something to exist rather than Nothing, and bestowed being on a particular possibility, exclusive of the rest? External causes, there are supposed to be none. Chance is a word without a meaning. Was it Nothing? But that can never produce anything. We must, therefore, have recourse to a necessarily existent Being, who carries the reason of his existence in himself, and who cannot be supposed not to exist, without an express contradiction. There is, consequently, such a Being; that is, there is a Deity.
Criticism of the Causal Argument: Explaining each Part is Sufficient to Explain the Whole (Dialogues, 9)
Cleanthes: [W]hy may not the material universe be the necessarily existent Being, according to this pretended explication of necessity? We dare not affirm that we know all the qualities of matter; and for aught we can determine, it may contain some qualities, which, were they known, would make its non-existence appear as great a contradiction as that twice two is five. I find only one argument employed to prove that the material world is not the necessarily existent Being: and this argument is derived from the contingency both of the matter and the form of the world. "Any particle of matter," it is said, "may be conceived to be annihilated; and any form may be conceived to be altered. Such an annihilation or alteration, therefore, is not impossible." But it seems a great partiality not to perceive, that the same argument extends equally to the Deity, so far as we have any conception of him; and that the mind can at least imagine him to be non-existent, or his attributes to be altered. It must be some unknown, inconceivable qualities, which can make his non-existence appear impossible, or his attributes unalterable: And no reason can be assigned, why these qualities may not belong to matter. As they are altogether unknown and inconceivable, they can never be proved incompatible with it.
Add to this, that in tracing an eternal succession of objects, it seems absurd to inquire for a general cause or first author. How can any thing, that exists from eternity, have a cause, since that relation implies a priority in time, and a beginning of existence?
In such a chain, too, or succession of objects, each part is caused by that which preceded it, and causes that which succeeds it. Where then is the difficulty? But the whole, you say, wants a cause. I answer, that the uniting of these parts into a whole, like the uniting of several distinct countries into one kingdom, or several distinct members into one body, is performed merely by an arbitrary act of the mind, and has no influence on the nature of things. Did I show you the particular causes of each individual in a collection of twenty particles of matter, I should think it very unreasonable, should you afterwards ask me, what was the cause of the whole twenty. This is sufficiently explained in explaining the cause of the parts.
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL
Presence of Limited Happiness does not Counterbalance Widespread Suffering (Dialogues, 10)
[Philo:] And is it possible, Cleanthes, said Philo, that after all these reflections, and infinitely more, which might be suggested, you can still persevere in your Anthropomorphism, and assert the moral attributes of the Deity, his justice, benevolence, mercy, and rectitude, to be of the same nature with these virtues in human creatures? His power we allow is infinite: whatever he wills is executed: but neither man nor any other animal is happy: therefore he does not will their happiness. His wisdom is infinite: He is never mistaken in choosing the means to any end: But the course of Nature tends not to human or animal felicity: therefore it is not established for that purpose. Through the whole compass of human knowledge, there are no inferences more certain and infallible than these. In what respect, then, do his benevolence and mercy resemble the benevolence and mercy of men?
Epicurus's old questions are yet unanswered. Is he willing to prevent evil, but not able? then is he impotent. Is he able, but not willing? then is he malevolent. Is he both able and willing? whence then is evil?
You ascribe, Cleanthes (and I believe justly), a purpose and intention to Nature. But what, I beseech you, is the object of that curious artifice and machinery, which she has displayed in all animals? The preservation alone of individuals, and propagation of the species. It seems enough for her purpose, if such a rank be barely upheld in the universe, without any care or concern for the happiness of the members that compose it. No resource for this purpose: no machinery, in order merely to give pleasure or ease: no fund of pure joy and contentment: no indulgence, without some want or necessity accompanying it. At least, the few phenomena of this nature are overbalanced by opposite phenomena of still greater importance.
Our sense of music, harmony, and indeed beauty of all kinds, gives satisfaction, without being absolutely necessary to the preservation and propagation of the species. But what racking pains, on the other hand, arise from gouts, gravels, megrims, toothaches, rheumatisms, where the injury to the animal machinery is either small or incurable? Mirth, laughter, play, frolic, seem gratuitous satisfactions, which have no further tendency: spleen, melancholy, discontent, superstition, are pains of the same nature. How then does the Divine benevolence display itself, in the sense of you Anthropomorphites? None but we Mystics, as you were pleased to call us, can account for this strange mixture of phenomena, by deriving it from attributes, infinitely perfect, but incomprehensible.
Problem not Solved by Conceding our Human Ignorance of the Whole Plan (Dialogues, 11)
It must, I think, be allowed, that if a very limited intelligence, whom we shall suppose utterly unacquainted with the universe, were assured, that it were the production of a very good, wise, and powerful Being, however finite, he would, from his conjectures, form beforehand a different notion of it from what we find it to be by experience; nor would he ever imagine, merely from these attributes of the cause, of which he is informed, that the effect could be so full of vice and misery and disorder, as it appears in this life. Supposing now, that this person were brought into the world, still assured that it was the workmanship of such a sublime and benevolent Being; he might, perhaps, be surprised at the disappointment; but would never retract his former belief, if founded on any very solid argument; since such a limited intelligence must be sensible of his own blindness and ignorance, and must allow, that there may be many solutions of those phenomena, which will for ever escape his comprehension. But supposing, which is the real case with regard to man, that this creature is not antecedently convinced of a supreme intelligence, benevolent, and powerful, but is left to gather such a belief from the appearances of things; this entirely alters the case, nor will he ever find any reason for such a conclusion. He may be fully convinced of the narrow limits of his understanding; but this will not help him in forming an inference concerning the goodness of superior powers, since he must form that inference from what he knows, not from what he is ignorant of. The more you exaggerate his weakness and ignorance, the more diffident you render him, and give him the greater suspicion that such subjects are beyond the reach of his faculties. You are obliged, therefore, to reason with him merely from the known phenomena, and to drop every arbitrary supposition or conjecture.
Did I show you a house or palace, where there was not one apartment convenient or agreeable; where the windows, doors, fires, passages, stairs, and the whole economy of the building, were the source of noise, confusion, fatigue, darkness, and the extremes of heat and cold; you would certainly blame the contrivance, without any further examination. The architect would in vain display his subtlety, and prove to you, that if this door or that window were altered, greater ills would ensue. What he says may be strictly true: The alteration of one particular, while the other parts of the building remain, may only augment the inconveniences. But still you would assert in general, that, if the architect had had skill and good intentions, he might have formed such a plan of the whole, and might have adjusted the parts in such a manner, as would have remedied all or most of these inconveniences. His ignorance, or even your own ignorance of such a plan, will never convince you of the impossibility of it. If you find any inconveniences and deformities in the building, you will always, without entering into any detail, condemn the architect.
RELIGION AND IMMORALITY
Impossibility of Knowing the Moral Qualities of God (Dialogues, 3)
[Is it not presumptuous to] imagine we comprehend the Deity, and have some adequate idea of his nature and attributes? When I read a volume, I enter into the mind and intention of the author. I become him, in a manner, for the instant, and have an immediate feeling and conception of those ideas which revolved in his imagination while employed in that composition. But so near an approach we never surely can make to the Deity. His ways are not our ways. His attributes are perfect, but incomprehensible. And this volume of nature [i.e., the mind of God] contains a great and inexplicable riddle, more than any intelligible discourse or reasoning.
The ancient Platonists, you know, were the most religious and devout of all the Pagan philosophers. Yet many of them, particularly Plotinus, expressly declare, that intellect or understanding is not to be ascribed to the Deity; and that our most perfect worship of him consists, not in acts of veneration, reverence, gratitude, or love; but in a certain mysterious self-annihilation, or total extinction of all our faculties. These ideas are, perhaps, too far stretched. But still it must be acknowledged, that, by representing the Deity as so intelligible and comprehensible, and so similar to a human mind, we are guilty of the grossest and most narrow partiality, and make ourselves the model of the whole universe.
All the sentiments of the human mind—gratitude, resentment, love, friendship, approbation, blame, pity, emulation, envy—have a plain reference to the state and situation of man, and are calculated for preserving the existence and promoting the activity of such a being in such circumstances. It seems, therefore, unreasonable to transfer such sentiments to a supreme existence, or to suppose him actuated by them. And the phenomena besides of the universe will not support us in such a theory. All our ideas, derived from the senses, are confessedly false and illusive, and cannot therefore be supposed to have place in a supreme intelligence. And as the ideas of internal sentiment, added to those of the external senses, compose the whole furniture of human understanding, we may conclude, that none of the materials of thought are in any respect similar in the human and in the divine intelligence. Now, as to the manner of thinking; how can we make any comparison between them, or suppose them any wise resembling? Our thought is fluctuating, uncertain, fleeting, successive, and compounded. And were we to remove these circumstances, we absolutely annihilate its essence, and it would in such a case be an abuse of terms to apply to it the name of thought or reason. At least if it appear more pious and respectful (as it really is) still to retain these terms, when we mention the Supreme Being, we ought to acknowledge, that their meaning, in that case, is totally incomprehensible; and that the infirmities of our nature do not permit us to reach any ideas which in the least correspond to the ineffable sublimity of the Divine attributes.
Conceptions of an Immoral God in Popular Religion (The Natural History of Religion, 1756, 13)
The primary religion of mankind arises chiefly from an anxious fear of future events; and what ideas will naturally be entertained of invisible, unknown powers, while men lie under dismal apprehensions of any kind, may easily be conceived. Every image of vengeance, severity, cruelty, and malice must occur, and must augment the ghastliness and horror, which oppresses the amazed religionist. A panic having once seized the mind, the active fancy still farther multiplies the objects of terror; while that profound darkness, or, what is worse, that glimmering light, with which we are environed, represents the specters of divinity under the most dreadful appearances imaginable. And no idea of perverse wickedness can be framed, which those terrified devotees do not readily, without scruple, apply to their deity.
This appears the natural state of religion, when surveyed in one light. But if we consider, on the other hand, that spirit of praise and eulogy, which necessarily has place in all religions, and which is the consequence of these very terrors, we must expect a quite contrary system of theology to prevail. Every virtue, every excellence, must be ascribed to the divinity, and no exaggeration will be deemed sufficient to reach those perfections, with which he is endowed. Whatever strains of panegyric can be invented, are immediately embrace, without consulting any arguments or phenomena: It is esteemed a sufficient confirmation of them, that they give us more magnificent ideas of the divine objects of our worship and adoration.
Here therefore is a kind of contradiction between the different principles of human nature, which enter into religion. Our natural terrors present the notion of a devilish and malicious deity: Our propensity to adulation leads us to acknowledge an excellent and divine. And the influence of these opposite principles are various, according to the different situation of the human understanding. . . .
But as men farther exalt their idea of their divinity; it is their notion of his power and knowledge only, not of his goodness, which is improved. On the contrary, in proportion to the supposed extent of his science and authority, their terrors naturally augment; while they believe, that no secrecy can conceal them from his scrutiny, and that even the inmost recesses of their breast lie open before him. They must then be careful not to form expressly any sentiment of blame and disapprobation. All must be applause, ravishment, ecstasy. And while their gloomy apprehensions make them ascribe to him measures of conduct, which, in human creatures, would be highly blamed, they must still affect to praise and admire that conduct in the object of their devotional addresses. Thus it may safely be affirmed, that popular religions are really, in the conception of their more vulgar votaries, a species of demonism; and the higher the deity is exalted in power and knowledge, the lower of course is he depressed in goodness and benevolence; whatever epithets of praise may be bestowed on him by his amazed adorers. Among idolaters, the words may be false, and belie the secret opinion: But among more exalted religionists, the opinion itself contracts a kind of falsehood, and belies the inward sentiment. The heart secretly defects such measures of cruel and implacable vengeance; but the judgment dares not but pronounce them perfect and adorable. And the additional misery of this inward struggle aggravates all the other terrors, by which these unhappy victims to superstition are for ever haunted.
Religions seek to Appease God through Superstition, not through Morality (The Natural History of Religion, 1756, 14)
It is certain, that, in every religion, however sublime the verbal definition which it gives of its divinity, many of the votaries, perhaps the greatest number, will still seek the divine favor, not by virtue and good morals, which alone can be acceptable to a perfect being, but either by frivolous observances, by intemperate zeal, by rapturous ecstasies, or by the belief of mysterious and absurd opinions. The least [or smallest] part of the [Zoroastrian] Sadder, as well as of the [Hebrew] Pentateuch, consists in precepts of morality; and we may also be assured, that that part was always the least observed and regarded. . . .
Nay, if we should suppose, what never happens, that a popular religion were found, in which it was expressly declared, that nothing but morality could gain the divine favor; if an order of priests were instituted to inculcate this opinion, in daily sermons, and with all the arts of persuasion; yet so inveterate [or ingrained] are the people's prejudices, that, for want [i.e., lack] of some other superstition, they would make the very [ritualistic] attendance on these sermons the essentials of religion, rather than place them in [the actual content of these sermons concerning] virtue and good morals. . . .
This observation, then, holds universally. But still one may be at some loss to account for it. It is sufficient to observe, that the people, everywhere, degrade their deities into a similitude [i.e., similarity] with themselves, and consider them merely as a species of human creatures, somewhat more potent and intelligent. This will not remove the difficulty. For there is no man so stupid, as that, judging by his natural reason, he would not esteem virtue and honesty the most valuable qualities, which any person could possess. Why not ascribe the same sentiment to his deity? Why not make all religion, or the chief part of it, to consist in these attainments?
Nor is it satisfactory to say, that the practice of morality is more difficult than that of superstition; and is therefore rejected. . . .
Perhaps, the following account may be received as a true solution of the difficulty. The duties, which a man performs as a friend or parent, seem merely owing to his benefactor or children; nor can he be wanting [i.e., lacking] to these duties, without breaking through all the ties of nature and morality. A strong inclination may prompt him to the performance: A sentiment of order and moral obligation joins its force to these natural ties: And the whole man, if truly virtuous, is drawn to his duty, without any effort or endeavor. Even with regard to the virtues, which are more austere, and more founded on reflection, such as public spirit, filial duty, temperance, or integrity; the moral obligation, in our apprehension, removes all pretension to religious merit; and the virtuous conduct is deemed no more than what we owe to society and to ourselves.
In all this, a superstitious man finds nothing, which he has properly performed for the sake of this deity, or which can peculiarly recommend him to the divine favor and protection. He considers not, that the most genuine method of serving the divinity is by promoting the happiness of his creatures. He still looks out for some more immediate service of the supreme Being, in order to allay those terrors, with which he is haunted. And any practice, recommended to him, which either serves to no purpose in life, or offers the strongest violence to his natural inclinations; that practice he will the more readily embrace, on account of those very circumstances, which should make him absolutely reject it. It seems the more purely religious, because it proceeds from no mixture of any other motive or consideration. And if, for its sake, he sacrifices much of his ease and quiet, his claim of merit appear still to rise upon him, in proportion to the zeal and devotion which he discovers. In restoring a loan, or paying a debt, his divinity is nowise beholden to him; because these acts of justice are what he was bound to perform, and what many would have performed, were there no god in the universe. But if he fast a day, or give himself a sound whipping; this has a direct reference, in his opinion, to the service of God. No other motive could engage him to such austerities. By these distinguished marks of devotion, he has now acquired the divine favor; and may expect, in recompense, protection and safety in this world, and eternal happiness in the next.
Hence the greatest crimes have been found, in many instances, compatible with a superstitious piety and devotion: Hence, it is justly regarded as unsafe to draw any certain inference in favor of a man's morals from the fervor or strictness of his religious exercises, even though he himself believe them sincere. Nay, it has been observed, that enormities of the blackest dye have been rather apt to produce superstitious terrors, and increase the religious passion. . . .
The Immoral Character of the Clergy (from "Of National Characters", 1748)
Though all mankind have a strong propensity to religion at certain times and in certain dispositions; yet are there few or none, who have it to that degree, and with that constancy, which is requisite to support the character of this profession. It must, therefore, happen, that clergymen (being drawn from the common mass of mankind, as people are to other employments, by the views of profit, the greatest part, though no atheists or freethinkers) will find it necessary, on particular occasions, to feign more devotion than they are, at the time, possessed of, and to maintain the appearance of fervor and seriousness, even when jaded with the exercises of their religion, or when they have their minds engaged in the common occupations of life. They must not, like the rest of the world, give scope to their natural movements and sentiments. They must set a guard over their looks and words and actions. And in order to support the veneration paid them by the ignorant vulgar, they must not only keep a remarkable reserve, but must promote the spirit of superstition, by a continued grimace and hypocrisy. This dissimulation often destroys the candor and ingenuity of their tempers, and makes an irreparable breach in their characters. . . .
Most men are ambitious, but the ambition of other men may commonly be satisfied by excelling in their particular profession, and thereby promoting the interests of society. The ambition of the clergy can often be satisfied only by promoting ignorance and superstition and implicit faith and pious frauds. And having got what Archimedes only wanted (viz. another world, on which he could fix his engines) no wonder they move this world at their pleasure.
Most men have an over-weaning conceit of themselves, but these have a peculiar temptation to that vice, who are regarded with such veneration, and are even deemed sacred, by the ignorant multitude.
Most men are apt to bear a particular regard for the members of their own profession; but as a lawyer, or physician, or merchant does, each of them, follow out his business apart, the interests of these professions are not so closely united as the interests of clergymen of the same religion; where the whole body gains by the veneration, paid to their common tenets, and by the suppression of antagonists.
Few men can bear contradiction with patience. But the clergy too often proceed even to a degree of fury on this article, because all their credit and livelihood depend upon the belief which their opinions meet with. And they alone pretend to a divine and supernatural authority, or have any color for representing their antagonists as impious and profane. The Odium Theologicum, or theological hatred, is noted even to a proverb, and means that degree of rancor, which is the most furious and implacable.
Thus many of the vices of human nature are, by fixed moral causes, inflamed in that profession. And though several individuals escape the contagion, yet all wise governments will be on their guard against the attempts of a society, who will for ever combine into one faction, and while it acts as a society, will for ever be actuated by ambition, pride, and a persecuting spirit.
Source: David Hume, An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding (1748), "Of National Characters" (1748), "The Natural History of Religion" (1757), Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion (1779), "Of the Immortality of the Soul" (1783), adapted.
STUDY QUESTIONS
Please answer all of the following questions.
1. According to Meslier in his Testament, why do political rulers and false prophets maintain and multiply religious practices among the common people?
2. According to Meslier in his Testament, why does the mutual condemnation among opposing world religions prove that most of them are human fabrications?
3. According to Meslier in his Testament, why do reported biblical miracles fail to reflect the true grandeur, wisdom, and justice of an infinitely perfect God?
4. According to Meslier in his Testament, how do Cartesian laws of motion demonstrate that natural forces alone can account for the world's arrangement?
5. According to Meslier in his Testament, why is the concept of an immaterial, unextended spiritual soul a logical impossibility?
6. According to Voltaire in the Philosophical Dictionary, how does observing natural benefits and disasters lead early human societies to form the concept of a god?
7. According to Voltaire in the Philosophical Dictionary, why does the intricate mathematical structure of the physical universe disprove the atheist claim that motion alone formed the world?
8. According to Voltaire in the Philosophical Dictionary, why is a rewarding and avenging God necessary for maintaining social order among the general public?
9. According to Voltaire in the Philosophical Dictionary, why does the universal uniformity of moral principles contrast with the endless conflicts among religious sects?
10. According to Voltaire in the Philosophical Dictionary, why does accepting incomprehensible religious mysteries require the complete surrender and annihilation of human reason?
11. According to Voltaire in the Philosophical Dictionary, why does widespread physical suffering and tragedy disprove Leibniz's optimistic doctrine that this is the best of all possible worlds?
12. According to Hume in the Enquiry, why does a firm and unalterable experience of natural laws create a full proof against the credibility of reported miracles?
13. According to Hume in "Of the Immortality of the Soul," how does the parallel decay of body and mind during sickness and old age point toward total dissolution at death?
14. According to Hume in the Dialogues, why does the comparison between human artifacts and the natural universe fail as an analogical argument for design?
15. According to Hume in the Dialogues, why can the design argument never prove that the creator of the world is infinite, perfect, or singular?
16. According to Hume in the Dialogues, why is explaining the immediate cause of each individual part in an eternal chain sufficient to explain the entire succession?
17. According to Hume in the Dialogues, why does the prevalence of widespread animal and human suffering prevent us from inferring a benevolent creator?
18. According to Hume in the Dialogues, why can human emotional sentiments and thought processes not be attributed to a supreme intelligence?
19. According to Hume in The Natural History of Religion, why do superstitious believers prefer practicing senseless self-denial over moral behavior to gain divine favor?
20. According to Hume in "Of National Characters," why does the clerical profession naturally encourage hypocrisy, ambition, and theological hatred among its practitioners?
21. Short Essay Options: Please select one of the following and answer it in a minimum of 100 words.
(a) Critics argue that Meslier’s complete rejection of religion removes all moral restraint. They state that without divine judgment, society will collapse into lawlessness. How might Meslier respond?
(b) Critics argue that Meslier’s materialist view of the soul reduces human consciousness to mindless mechanical matter. This view fails to account for subjective experience and free will. How might Meslier respond?
(c) Critics argue that Voltaire’s defense of deism relies on an outdated machine analogy. Modern organic complexity shows that natural systems evolve without an external architect. How might Voltaire respond?
(d) Critics argue that Voltaire’s claim that God must be invented for social utility is cynical. It treats religious truth as a mere tool for controlling the masses. How might Voltaire respond?
(e) Critics argue that Hume’s argument against miracles is circular. It assumes natural laws are unalterable based on experience, thereby ruling out any exceptional event in advance. How might Hume respond?
(f) Critics argue that Hume’s skeptical attack on the design argument ignores the obvious order of nature. The functional arrangement of organic life requires an intelligent cause. How might Hume respond?
(g) Critics argue that Hume’s dismissal of the causal argument fails. An infinite series of dependent beings still lacks a sufficient reason for its collective existence. How might Hume respond?
(h) Critics argue that Hume’s treatment of the problem of evil overemphasizes human suffering. It ignores the divine purpose of moral growth and spiritual development. How might Hume respond?
(i) Critics argue that Hume’s psychological explanation of religion is overly reductive. It dismisses genuine spiritual experiences as mere anxiety and terror. How might Hume respond?
(j) Critics argue that Enlightenment critics like Voltaire and Hume replace religious dogma with an equally uncritical faith in human reason. This replacement ignores the limits and biases of secular thinking. How might any one of these thinkers respond?