"A Simple Argument for Universalism": some brief thoughts

[Disclaimer: By discussing and linking Thomas Talbott's website and some of its contents, I am not endorsing Thomas Talbott's views or anyone else's views expressed therein.]

Thomas Talbott is professor emeritus at Willamette University. He has a website (see http://www.willamette.edu/~ttalbott/theol.html), and on that website is a link entitled "A Simple Argument for Universalism" (see http://www.willamette.edu/~ttalbott/theol.html). Talbott's argument is short, but I want to spend some time reconstructing it for purposes of clarity. So, let's walk through the argument.

Talbott begins by saying this:

Suppose that Christ commanded that we love our enemies and love our neighbor even as we love ourselves because such love is an essential condition of blessedness or supreme happiness.  If this is true, as I believe it is, then God could not possibly bring blessedness to one person without also bringing it to all.

This is a sort of introduction to the general conclusion of Talbott's argument. It helps us see where he's going (i.e., universalism) and how he's going to get there (i.e., by showing that "such love is an essential condition of blessedness or supreme happiness"). Nothing in Talbott's argument claims that God will bring about blessedness or supreme happiness to anyone. He merely is claiming that God can't do this for anyone if God doesn't do it for everyone, because making someone blessed or supremely happy logically requires that everyone else be blessed or supremely happy, too.

Talbott uses his daughter as an example. He writes:

If I truly love my daughter even as I love myself, then her interests and my own are so tightly interwoven as to be logically inseparable: any good that befalls her is then a good that befalls me, and any evil that befalls her is likewise an evil that befalls me.

Here, we have Talbott's first premise. Although he is speaking of his daughter, it's clear that he thinks this is true for any two (or more) individuals who love one another in this way. If we put the premise in more general terms, it would look something like this:

(P1) If A loves B as A loves herself, then A's interests are logically inseparable from B's interests.

Talbott then claims:

I could never be happy, for example, knowing that my daughter is suffering or in a miserable condition--unless, of course, I could somehow believe that all will be well for her in the end. But if I cannot believe this, if I were to believe instead that she had been lost to me forever--even if I were to believe that, by her own will, she had made herself intolerably evil--my own happiness could never be complete. For I would always know what could have been, and I would always experience this as a terrible tragedy and an unacceptable loss, one for which no compensation is even conceivable. 

 I take Talbott to be making a second premise: namely,

(P2) If A's interests are logically inseparable from B's interests, then if B's interests are unaccomplished, then A's interests are unaccomplished.

From P1 and P2, it logically follows that

(C1) If A loves B as A loves herself, then if B's interests are unaccomplished, then A's interests are unaccomplished.

What's more, Talbott claims that if B goes to hell, then B's 'interests' are not accomplished. It's not hard to see why: It's in B's best interest to avoid hell, since hell is decisively not in B's best interest (indeed, it's rather antithetical to it). Hence:

(P3) If A goes to heaven and B goes to hell, then B's 'interests' are not accomplished.

From C1 and P3, it immediately follows that

(C2) If A goes to heaven and B goes to hell, then A's interests are unaccomplished.

When Talbott claims that "A's interests are unaccomplished," he is, of course, suggesting that A cannot experience supreme happiness (or whatever) given the evils that have befallen B (i.e., the evils of hell). Here's another way of putting the argument:

(P1*) A's interests are accomplished if and only if B's interests are accomplished. 

(P2*) If B goes to hell, then B's interests are unaccomplished. 

(C1*) Therefore, If B goes to hell, then A's interests are unaccomplished. [From P1 and P2]

This is a very interesting argument, and (admittedly) it's not initially clear what (if anything) is plausible to deny. However, after careful reflection, I think we can identify several problems with Talbott's arguments, ones that show that his argument ultimately fails. I'll be reflecting on the premises of the more complicated argument reconstruction.

I'll begin with P3. Is it true that, "If A goes to heaven and B goes to hell, then B's interests are not accomplished"? I will grant that hell is bad for B in a sense: it harms him. But B (presumably) has more interests than whether or not he is harmed. For example, B probably cares a great deal that he has free will and that his free choices be respected (in general, allowed to happen). Thus, if B freely decides to reject God forever, then B cares that his choice to reject God forever is respected (in this case, allowed to happen). If all that's correct, then the state of affairs B goes to hell is, in some sense, an accomplishment of B's interests: He got what he wanted, and it was significant. Obviously, this doesn't entail that A would be happy; after all, many of B's other interests (in self-preservation, for example) would be frustrated. However, A can be happy for B in some sense: A can be happy that B's freedom was respected, that he was free to choose his own stance before God. So, let's make the following observation: A can be happy for B in some sense while at the same time being unhappy for B in some other sense. Another way of phrasing this that is closer to Talbott's wording is this: A can have some of her interests accomplished along with B while at the same time have some of her interests unaccomplished along with B.

Another observation needs to be made. I have a lot of interests: self-preservation, the preservation of the people I love, having my free choices respected, having Chipotle for dinner, etc. Some are more important than others. For example, my interest in having my free choices respected is more important to me than having Chipotle for dinner. If God came to a friend of mine and said, "Would you rather I respect Blake's free choices, or would you rather I give him Chipotle for dinner?" I hope my friend would rather my free choices be respected. It's simply more important, 'objectively' and to me, that my free choices be respected than that I have Chipotle for dinner. Presumably, my friend who loves me as he loves himself weighs my interests in this way, just as he does his own. If that's so, then if my friend had to choose between two alternatives - my greater desire to spurn (what I believe to be) an evil God, and my lesser desire to experience supreme happiness - he should, even on Talbott's account, opt for my greater desire to be fulfilled. If he didn't, he (probably) wouldn't be loving me as he loves himself, since he (probably) loves himself by making sure his higher-order interests (like the survival of his wife) are accomplished long before his lower-order interests are accomplished (like reading The Wall Street Journal).[1] Thus, A should (even given Talbott's "do unto others" view of love) prioritize my higher-order interests over my lower-order interests.

To recap: (1) A can have some of her interests accomplished along with B while at the same time have some of her interests unaccomplished along with B; (2) A should (even given Talbott's "do unto others" view of love) prioritize my higher-order interests over my lower-order interests. But if these things are true, as I believe they are, then Talbott is wrong about two things. First, A should be happier if B goes to hell than if B goes to heaven, since B's higher-order desire was to go to hell (or, more specifically, to reject God and spend eternity apart from God, which just is hell). Second, B would have his interests best accomplished if he went to hell, since rejecting God (and the hell it entails) is a higher-order interest for B and experiencing supreme happiness is (at least comparatively) a lower-order interest for B.[2] Talbott could reply that this changes nothing, since it's still the case that A couldn't be supremely happy if B wasn't supremely happy. But this overlooks the important fact that, in some cases, it seems (if B's freedom is to be preserved, or unless God changes B's mind[3]) that B very probably can't be supremely happy. For he must either consent to love God, Whom he hates, or experience hell, which is bad for him (as even I admit).

But still, Talbott would be right: A could not experience supreme happiness unless B did, too. I have not given sufficient reason to undermine Talbott's claim that A could not be supremely happy in the the greatest (broad) logically possible sense.[4] However, let me ask this: Do we have compelling reason to believe that heaven will be, for its inhabitants, the greatest (broadly speaking) logically possible experience of happiness?[5] I don't see that we do. It will certainly be a very great place, a place of significant happiness. Indeed, I think it's plausible that we will be at least somewhat happy that our loved ones had their free choices respected by God, although I am not sure how happy we will be.[6]

Is there any reason to help explain how we even could be very happy with some of our loved ones in hell? It might be asked of me and the account I have thus far provided: If God really could create two worlds - one in which everyone accepts Him, but their happiness is less-than-maximal because many were forced to accept Him; and the other in which some accept Him and others reject Him, and the overall happiness is around the same level - why didn't God pick the former world? At least then everyone would be saved. I will offer an initial sketch of an answer.

The Christian Church has long held that God is a supremely good and loving being, and that being in His presence is the greatest experience anyone will ever have (if indeed they have it). It's plausible that we would be far happier if God showed us His love and goodness than if He didn't. I have known some people whose parents, although deeply loving people, were hardly adept at showing their love. They failed to attend dance recitals, birthday parties, graduations, pageants, and other important events. Their children would have very likely been much happier, it would likely have been better 'all around,' if the parents had displayed their love more accurately. The same can be said of other attributes: wisdom, knowledge, creativity, and even justice. A world in which those attributes are more clearly displayed (and exercised) is, all other things being equal, better than a world in which those attributes aren't as clearly displayed (or exercised). I think the redeemed would experience greater happiness if God performed 100 magnificantly creative acts than if He performed, say, only 2. And I think the redeemed would experience greater happiness if God performed 1,000 loving acts toward developmentally disabled individuals than if He performed, say, 3 or 4.

(In fact, assuming you love your parents and want them present, which would make you feel more loved? Which state of affairs would you prefer? The one in which your parents (by analogy) come to every birthday party, every graduation, etc., or the one in which your parents are hardly ever there? I would find it severely dubious if you preferred the latter.)

Let's talk about justice. Suppose two persons (perhaps persons you know and love) commit very serious offenses, like rape. Suppose you flip back and forth between channels to view their day in court. Both claim that they would rape again and that they would oppose a system where rape was not tolerated. One is pardoned by the judge and released back into society, and the other is locked away. In which case is justice more clearly done? It seems to me that it is more clearly done in the latter case, since it seems the criminal should pay for his crime. (Moreover, it seems that justice is simply not done in the former case.) Suppose the same is true of hell[7]: God's justice is more clearly displayed in a world in which free creatures sin (severely) and are punished than in a world in which they don't and/or are not. I am not suggesting that justice cannot occur or be displayed in a world in which people do not sin, or a world in which they do but aren't punished. I claim only that it is clearer, indeed far clearer, that God is just in a world where sinners are punished. And perhaps this is such a great good that it outweighs, or at least makes significantly better, the sadness we might experience at the loss of our loved ones.

Admittedly, our intuitions flare up when we think of traditional Christian views of hell: places of severe punishment with fire and flesh-eating worms. I think those views are defensible (although I don't endorse a literal perspective on the biblical language for hell, as I view the language as metaphorical.[8]) , and perhaps in time I will provide my defense. But one need not accept such a strong doctrine of hell.[9]

I commend this proposal to other Christian thinkers. In the meantime, this is my view of hell and this is my (less than thorough) response to Thomas Talbott's "A Simple Argument for Universalism."

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[1] If he doesn't prioritize in this way - if he doesn't value and attempt to preserve his wife's survival over reading The Wall Street Journal - then there is a severe defect in his love. I am sure Talbott would agree.

[2] Perhaps no one does or even could value things in this way, or perhaps just not freely. I think that's false, though: I think some people really would rather reject God than submit themselves to Him and His kingdom. From the standpoint of some unbelievers, God really does look evil, much like a murderer who desires your allegiance after slaughtering your children. I fully understand how and why, given that (misguided) perspective, an unbeliever could and would rather spend eternity apart from God. Indeed, given that perspective, wouldn't we all?

[3] A prospect I'm a bit more optimistic about, but that's another story.

[4] Then again, it might be argued that Talbott's criteria shows how it ends up being contingently necessary for at least some persons in heaven to lack supreme happiness. As far as the damned are concerned, God could save them only by imparting the 'right' degree of information to them (and even then, for at least some persons, it is doubtful they would repent even then) or by overriding their freedom. Neither prospect seems particularly hopeful.
[5] Talbott must stick with broad logical possibility, for if he limits 'supreme happiness' to contingent logical possibility  (i.e., all the happiness God can bring about given certain contingent things that have happened), then his argument fails. Because then God could bring about the greatest possible contingent happiness for the inhabitants of heaven; it would just be short of everything it could otherwise be, broadly speaking, because of the loved ones in hell.

[6] I am happy, for example, when physicians respect my friends' choice to die, perhaps by signing a DNR ("Do Not Resuscitate") order. Indeed, I am sad that they are dying; I wish it wasn't that way. Assuming it's against their best interest, I always wish (and should wish) that they chose differently. But I am still happy they were free and that they were respected by others. Yet, despite all this, I am not happy when my friend freely decides to impale himself. Indeed, I would stop him, and it's hard to imagine being at all happy about the attempt at impalement. Yet, it's very hard to make decisions of this sort, I think, for in principle it seems to permit a very heavy-handed paternalism. If we won't permit people to make bad decisions, even seriously bad decisions, how can we leave them free? Indeed, how can we leave them significantly free?

[7] I believe that God has experienced something quite similar to rape, both in Jesus's murder and in the historical defiling of the Temple.

[8] See William V. Crockett, "The Metaphorical View," in William Crockett and Stanley Gundry (eds.) Four Views on Hell (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan), 1996, pp.43-76, for a defense of the view that the language about hell in the Christian Scriptures is metaphorical.

[9] C.S. Lewis is said to offer such a view. See his The Great Divorce (New York, NY: HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.), 2001.