The transcendental argument for God (TAG) holds that logical absolutes prove God’s existence. What, you may ask, is a transcendental argument? And what is a logical absolute? And are we about to plunge into a smelly pit of boring abstract crap?
As to that last question, yes, this is the most conceptually abstract chapter in the book. But, good news, it’s also the shortest. (Now you understand why I didn’t get a job in marketing.)
A transcendental argument is not a particular argument. It’s a kind of argument. It’s a class of arguments. A transcendental argument asserts that the acceptance of some specific proposition entails the acceptance of some other proposition, typically one that the person has not previously realized they’re committed to.
Here’s an example. Suppose your friend said, “I think I am unconscious.” You might reply to your friend, “But your statement that you think you’re unconscious indicates that you are thinking. If you were unconscious, you could not think. Therefore, your conclusion that you’re unconscious is refuted by your premise that you’re thinking.” Your friend, by acknowledging that she is thinking, transcended her own premise that she is unconscious. In this example, you presented a transcendental argument to defeat your friend’s conclusion.
Transcendental arguments often fall within the broad category of self-refuting arguments. When, for example, someone says, “Truths are not absolute,” a chorus of critics inevitably responds, “Is that statement expressing an absolute truth?” Most putatively self-refuting arguments are not really self-refuting. Critics fancy that they have caught their prey in a tight net, but the net is rarely as tight as presumed.[1]+ (Even my previous example ignored the potential for unconscious thought.) Nonetheless, an internal critique in which an inconsistency is identified in someone’s worldview can be useful to both parties. It can promote humility and inspire deeper investigation.
The term logical absolute, as used by apologists, denotes what academic philosophers commonly call an axiom of classical logic. I will abbreviate logical absolute as LA (pronounced EL-AY).
One example of an LA is the law of identity, which says that something is what it is and isn’t what it isn’t. For instance, an apple is an apple, not a banana. A cactus is a cactus, not a suppository. A puppy is a puppy, not an hors d’oeuvre.[2]+ As you can see, the law of identity isn’t complicated. It’s common sense.
Another example of an LA is the law of noncontradiction, which says that a proposition can’t be both true and false. Consider the statement “I have a pickle.” That statement can’t be simultaneously true and false, since that would be a contradiction.
Our third and final LA is the law of the excluded middle, which asserts that either a proposition is true or its negation is true. Either the statement “I have a pickle” is true or its negation (“I do not have a pickle”) is true.[3]+
These last two LAs sound similar, but they are not identical.
As mentioned, an LA is an axiom of classical logic. An axiom is a proposition, typically one deemed self-evidently true or so well-established as to be beyond reasonable doubt. Whatever our degree of confidence in an axiom, calling it an axiom means that we embrace it as a starting point or initial presupposition upon which our reasoning is founded. LAs are therefore often included in our suite of foundational presuppositions.
A proposition can be expressed in written or verbal form as a statement. For example, I made a statement above that the law of identity dictates that “something is what it is and isn’t what it isn’t.” I could have stated that the law of identity holds that “whatever exists has a specific identity.” These two statements are alternative ways to express the same proposition.
Suppose acorns, leaves, twigs, and other debris were to fall onto the ground, coincidentally forming the statement “It’s Fall.” The debris would not be expressing a proposition. After all, mindless debris lacks the intellectual capacity to conceptualize or express propositions. In contrast, an intelligent being who happened upon that debris might interpret the pattern as expressing a proposition. A proposition, including an axiom of logic or an LA, is invariably a concept in the mind of an intelligent being. An LA is not something that can reside in unconscious physical objects. Rocks don’t think.
A proposition is always about something. We designate what a proposition is about as the proposition’s referent. Consider, for instance, an axiom from geometry. The referent of the geometry axiom might be, let us say, an ellipse. Here’s an example axiom: “The sum of the distances to the two focal points is constant for every point on the curve.”
Note that the referent of the proposition is an ellipse, but the axiom is not an ellipse; it’s a proposition. That may strike you as a trite observation, too obvious to even state, but my reason for stressing this distinction will become clear in a moment.
The properties of an axiom are not those of the referent. A geometry axiom about ellipses, like every other proposition, is conceptual in nature. But what is the nature or essence of the referent, the referent in this case being an ellipse? It sounds like a simple question, but the essence of geometrical entities, numbers, and other abstract stuff has been debated by philosophers dating back to Plato. It is known as the problem of universals.
Consider an ellipse. An ellipse is manifest in Earth’s orbit around the sun. Technically, Earth’s orbit is not perfectly elliptical because the sun is moving through space and because the sun effectually pulls at the center of mass of the Earth–moon system. But an ellipse is a good approximation. Let’s just call it an ellipse. My point is that, while Earth’s movement along its elliptical orbit is a physical occurrence, an ellipse is not itself a physical or tangible thing.
We can entertain the idea of an ellipse. You and I could each be thinking of an ellipse right now, but the ellipses we are contemplating could be of quite different dimensions and orientations. When we speak generally of an ellipse in the broadest possible terms, we are not speaking about one person’s particular conception of an ellipse, or even a collection of everyone’s various conceptions of an ellipse. We are speaking of an ellipse in the most general sense we can. It is this maximally general and abstract notion of an ellipse that is the referent of the axiom we discussed above.
An LA referent, such as the law of noncontradiction, is likewise an abstraction. We must not confuse this abstraction with its manifestations discoverable in particulars throughout the physical realm. Incidentally, the perspective I am elucidating here is known in philosophy circles as conceptualism.
The point I wish to emphasize is that an LA, as a proposition, resides within the mind. It describes features of an abstract referent which, in turn, is potentially manifest within nature. Our exposure to those natural manifestations spawned our conceptualization of the LA and its referent. Understanding the distinction between (1) LAs, (2) the conceptual referents of the LAs, and (3) the physical manifestations of LAs, is essential to our analysis of TAG.
Matt Slick’s version of TAG appears below. See if you can catch where Slick conflates LAs with their referents and with their physical manifestations.
Logical absolutes are not dependent on people. That is, they are not the product of human thinking. People’s minds are different. What one person considers absolute may not be what another considers absolute. People often contradict each other. Therefore, logical absolutes cannot be the product of human, contradictory minds. . . .
Logical absolutes are not the product of the physical universe since that would mean they were contingent on atoms, motion, heat, etc. . . . If their nature were dependent upon physical existence, they would cease to exist when the physical universe ceases to exist. But, if the universe did not exist, logical absolutes [would still hold] true. For example, if the universe did not exist, it would still be true that something cannot bring itself into existence and that if A = B and B = C, then A = C. The condition of the universe does not affect these truths. For example, if the universe did not exist, it would still be true that something cannot be itself and not itself at the same time. Therefore, logical absolutes are not dependent on the material world. . . .
Logic is a process of the mind. Logical absolutes provide the framework for logical thought processes. Therefore . . . logical absolutes are conceptual by nature . . . If they are conceptual by nature, then they are not dependent upon the physical universe for their existence. . . .
Thoughts reflect the mind. A person’s thoughts are the product of that person’s mind . . . It seems fair to say that an absolutely perfect mind would produce perfect thoughts. Since the logical absolutes are transcendent, absolute, are perfectly consistent, and are independent of the universe, then it seems proper to say that they reflect a transcendent, absolute, perfect, and independent mind. We call this transcendent, absolute, perfect, and independent mind God.[4]
In his first paragraph, Slick asserts that LAs are “not the product of human minds.” This is incorrect. LAs are propositions established in human minds (through some combination of innate brain wiring, unconscious exposure, and conscious deliberation).
Slick goes on to say, “What one person considers absolute may not be what another considers absolute.” Sure, people disagree. For the record, I have never personally known any philosopher who didn’t embrace all three LAs discussed above: the laws of (1) identity, (2) noncontradiction, and (3) the excluded middle. Nonetheless, I gladly concede that a tiny minority of philosophers do speculate that the law of noncontradiction isn’t universally binding, a position called dialetheism.
According to Slick, “if the universe did not exist, logical absolutes [would still hold] true.” We can’t test that assertion. We can’t make the universe blink momentarily out of existence to see if the law of identity continues to hold true. In fact, Slick’s hypothetical scenario in which the universe ceases to exist is unintelligible without appealing to the law of identity and to the other LAs. Our embrace of LAs is a prerequisite to any thought experiment concerning the existence or nonexistence of the universe. His argument therefore begs the question.
Theoretical physicists can construct models in which spacetime is absent, but when we actually think about the absence of the cosmos, we find that Immanuel Kant was right: “We can never imagine or make a representation to ourselves of the non-existence of space.”[5] This appears to be an epistemic limitation imposed on us by the fact that our ancestors always occupied space. Physicists studying virtual particles tell us that, in the words of Stephen Hawking, “there is no such thing as empty space.”[6]
Slick’s thought experiment was meant to prove that LAs would persist if the physical realm ceased to exist, but it revealed only that our imaginations are constrained by our mental programming. Slick took an aspect of human brain functioning, our ineluctable belief in LAs, and projected it onto the cosmos. That’s a very human thing to do.
Slick says, “Since the logical absolutes are transcendent, absolute, are perfectly consistent, and are independent of the universe, then it seems proper to say that they reflect a transcendent, absolute, perfect, and independent mind.” By transcendent, Slick presumably means that LA referents are manifest in the physical realm without (he supposes) being dependent on the physical realm. He has given us no sound reason to believe this is so.
He says LAs are “absolute” and “perfectly consistent,” though he previously said that LAs vary from person to person. Perhaps a charitable interpretation of Slick’s position would be as follows: Our rough and variable human conceptions of LAs are a mere shadow of God’s accurate conceptions of LAs.
According to Slick, God’s conception of LAs has causal influence on the physical realm. He provides no evidence. The fact that LA referents are manifested by nature doesn’t mean they regulate nature. The situation is analogous to natural laws: The fact that natural laws are manifested by nature doesn’t mean they regulate nature. We don’t know if the laws of nature are absolute and exceptionless. Nor do we know whether our human conceptions of the LAs correspond to any nonhuman conceptions of LAs.
Additionally, if the divine mind can change, we cannot know from one instant to the next whether we are thinking logically—that is, in synchrony with God’s current thinking. Even if we had access to God’s mind, we cannot compare our ideas to God’s to determine whether we agree unless we have logical standards to test for agreement. So, Slick’s idea that our conception of LAs is a shadow of God’s conception of LAs is pure speculation (and would be so even if we knew God existed).
If LAs are contingent on God’s mind, perhaps we should call them logical contingencies. Slick, as a Calvinist, believes in predetermination. He has argued elsewhere that God cannot change his mind because he is all-perfect and unchanging.[7] Apparently, Slick, unlike physicists, knows that the physical manifestations of the LA referents never change and that they are, in his words, “perfectly consistent.”
Slick’s statement that God can’t change his mind raises the question as to how Slick deciphered this biographical information about God. To insist that God’s mind doesn’t change is to say that God never learns or makes decisions. Nor can God alter his divine plan, which abrogates imprecatory prayer. Slick needs to explain Exodus 32:14: “So the LORD changed his mind about the terrible disaster he had threatened to bring on his people” (NLT).[8]+
There is yet another problem in Slick’s argument. Either God can or cannot revoke the law of identity. If he can, then the law of identity is not an absolute. But if God cannot revoke the law of identity, then the law of identity is sovereign and God is one of its subjects. In that case, LAs lack a divine imprimatur and hence aren’t evidence of God.
Slick might say that the law of identity emerges from God’s nature. But God cannot have a nature without there being a law of identity. An entity cannot possess or exhibit properties before the entity exists. Slick’s failure to establish God’s priority or supremacy over the law of identity invalidates his claim that God is necessary to account for the law of identity.
Slick eventually terminates his mental meanderings with his conclusion that the rule-like part of reality is generated by a divine mind, a perspective reminiscent of that advocated by Bishop George Berkeley in A Treatise Concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge (1710). Unlike Berkeley, who proposed that the entire universe was an idea in God’s mind, Slick allows the universe to exist outside the mind of God. Only the LAs, the rules by which the universe (through some unspecified mechanism) allegedly operates, reside within the mind of God. Slick, after traversing a tortuous route of illogical hopscotch, eventually manufactures a cold, impersonal, and thoroughly inflexible rule book that he can arbitrarily label as God.
Given that LAs are axioms of classical logic, and given that there are non-classical logics, LAs may not be universal. Would Slick therefore concede that his god may not be universal? If the law of identity resides as an idea within the mind of God and if it emanates from God, rather than God himself being subject to it, then by what rule of logic can we say God either exists or doesn’t?
In chapter 14, we will discuss presuppositional apologetics, which contend that we must presuppose the existence of God if we are to account for logic. TAG is sometimes lumped in with presuppositional apologetics. Both cite God as the foundation for logic. Both accuse atheists of blindness to the fact that logic emanates from God. The advocates for both are brash and haughty in their presentation.
But there’s a crucial difference. Presuppositionalists typically offer no rational argument for God’s existence. They simply presuppose the existence of God. That’s why they are called presuppositionalists.
Slick, in contrast, takes an evidentialist approach. Even if he elsewhere embraces presuppositionalism, in the case of TAG, he holds that we need not presuppose God’s existence. He asserts that we can argue from the existence of logic to the existence of God. TAG, as presented by Slick, is thus an example not of presuppositional apologetics, but of a contingency argument. He argues that logic is contingent on God.
Given that atheists and believers alike accept that logic exists, Slick begins his argument on common ground. Unlike most presuppositionalists, who demand a theistic starting point, Slick assumes a neutral starting point. Unfortunately, his argument is muddled and confused. His argument therefore runs off the rails the moment he tries to advance beyond this neutral starting point.
[1] A popular YouTube atheist said that a religious claim is merely a claim, not evidence. An apologist responded along these lines: “When you say that ‘claims are not evidence,’ you are also merely stating a claim, not presenting evidence.” The atheist graciously conceded this point and then offered to lay out his evidence. As I considered this exchange, I found myself in disagreement with both parties. If we accept that, overall and in general, a positive correlation exists between claims and the truth of those claims (as is clearly the case), then claims do count as evidence. A claim may constitute weak evidence if (1) the claimant is a notorious liar, or (2) the claimant is not well positioned to evaluate the claim, or (3) the claim itself advances a bizarre and intrinsically implausible proposition. A claim may constitute strong evidence if it puts forth a mundane proposition and the claimant is a reputable person positioned to know the truth of the claim. The scrutiny we afford to a claim may be intense or cursory, depending on the prima facie credibility of the claim and its importance to us. Even if we accept the general principle that claims qualify as evidence, the evidential merit of a given claim (and the amount of effort we are justified in investing to evaluate the claim) might be negligible. Categorizing a claim as evidence does not grant any substantive credence to the claim, nor does it provide any insight concerning the degree of scrutiny the claim warrants. The primary objection to counting claims as evidence arises from the common usage of the word “evidence” to indicate only evidence of significant merit. When disputes arise over the definition of “evidence,” or any other definition, many people stomp their feet and demand that only their preferred definition is correct and permissible. I recommend, instead, that we simply clarify our usage of potentially disputed term in the context of the discussion.
[2] In self-reporting polls, as many as 30 percent of South Koreans say they have eaten dog meat, though the younger generation eats less. The South Korean parliament passed a law on January 9, 2024, to ultimately prohibit the selling of dogs as food. The eating of dog meat is believed to remain popular in North Korea.
[3] The law of the excluded middle applies if you’re making non-self-referential statements that conform to the other two logical absolutes. Intuitionist philosophers say some statements, including self-referential statements, may be indeterminate, as in the liar paradox: “This sentence is false.” L. E. J. Brouwer, founder of mathematical intuitionism, argued that the law of the excluded middle can’t be assumed to apply to infinities.
[4] Matt Slick, “The Transcendental Argument for the Existence of God,” Christian Apologetics and Research Ministry, December 9, 2008, https://carm.org/defending-the-faith/the-transcendental-argument-for-the-existence-of-god/.
[5] Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason (1781), 23.
[6] Hawking and Mlodinow, The Grand Design, 113.
[7] Matt Slick, “Answering the Transcendental Argument for the Nonexistence of God,” Christian Apologetics and Research Ministry, December 9, 2008, https://carm.org/atheism/answering-the-transcendental-argument-for-the-nonexistence-of-god/.
[8] Some translations say that God “relented” or “repented,” but these verbs still convey the notion that God changed his mind. Speaking of word choices, you may have noticed throughout the Bible (as in the quoted passage) various capitalizations of the word lord. Three variations are common: lord, Lord, and LORD. The word lord refers to an honored man. The word Lord is often, though not always, a placeholder for God’s proper name. The word LORD transliterates into English as YHWH, the sacred name of the god of the Jewish nation, which Jews could not utter. These capitalization rules are violated by some biblical translations, which only adds to the confusion. I recommend mentally translating “the LORD” back to the original “YHWH” to avoid popular misunderstandings. For instance, read the account of Armagedon in Zechariah. Once you understand that “the LORD” means YHWH, it becomes clear that this account isn’t prophesizing Jesus’s appearance on the Mount of Olives. The messiah is someone serving YHWH; it is not God himself. The effort to merge these two into a single being represents the imposition of later Christian theological baggage onto the text. The distinction between lord and Lord is yet more ambiguous because the Greek word kurios sometimes refers to a highly exalted man, emperor, master, or to God, or even to a foreign idol. Translators must make judgment calls based largely on context. For example, 1 Cor. 8:6 refers to God the Father (LORD or YHWH) and to the Lord Jesus (kurios, master).