St. Anselm, Proslogion; Gaunilo, On Behalf of the Fool

Before we begin, a note about the next few entries in this series. I’ve been trying to read the next book on my list, the Icelandic Poetic Edda, but I’ve been having serious difficulty because (a) the text is incomplete in many parts, (b) the translations are either tone-deaf or written in what amounts to Middle English, and (c) my lack of knowledge of Norse mythology is holding me back. So I’ve decided to skip it for now. However, my copy of Rumi, who comes after the Edda, won’t arrive for another week or two, so in the interim, I’ll be jumping to the next item: St. Thomas Aquinas. He will be the topic of the next entry; there is no escape from theology.

Speaking of which, today we are talking about St. Anselm: scholastic, archbishop of Canterbury, and author of the most famous proof of the existence of God in the history of philosophy, the ontological proof. Throughout the years, there have been many proofs of God’s existence, ranging in rigor from Dostoevsky’s yearning for a better world to Godel’s logical gibberish. None however has matched the elegance and simplicity of Anselm’s, nor elicited the same range of vehement criticism, criticism that continues to this day.

Anselm’s first work was the Monologion, in which he set down for himself (monologion translates to “a speech to oneself”) his beliefs about the nature of God. The document became a success among other clergymen, and he was bid to write a more concise version. Anselm wrote the Proslogion (“a speech to others”) to fulfill this goal, and also because he felt that the Monologion fell short of capturing his message, that the existence of God was not something to be debated, but a fact which, if expressed in the right way, could be self-evident even to the fool of the Psalms (the fool who “says in his heart, There is no God”). He believed he had hit upon such an explanation in the ontological proof presented in the Proslogion, but since its inception, it has had detractors, most notably from a fellow monk named Gaunilo. He wrote to Anselm after reading the Proslogion and gave a counterargument to the proof. Anselm later replied with a counter to the counterargument, though it is generally recognized that his reply was not nearly as strong as Gaunilo’s.

We’re only going to discuss the Proslogion and its reactions; the Monologion, though not long by Aristotelian or Thomist standards, is the most verbose thing I’ve ever tried to read. Take this characteristic passage:

“Therefore, if that than which a greater cannot be thought can be thought not to exist, then that than which a greater cannot be thought is not that than which a greater cannot be thought; and this is a contradiction. So that than which a greater cannot be thought exists so truly that it cannot be thought not to exist.”

Therefore, I took advantage of the Proslogion’s relative brevity and the fact that it covers similar ground.

Understanding Faith

Before talking about the proof itself, let’s discuss Anselm’s own view of theology. Clearly we’ve talked quite a bit about theology lately, so it would be nice to get an idea of what a theologian thinks the aims of theology should be. Thomas Williams in his introduction to my volume writes that Anselm believes the aim of natural theology is not “knowledge in the sense of information but knowledge in the sense of acquaintance. Anselm intended his arguments to provide us with a way of becoming acquainted with God.”

Anselm saw his faith as a stepping-stone to understanding God. In fact, a working title for the Proslogion was “Faith Seeking Understanding.” Apart from sounding like a weird personals ad, Anselm’s motto reflects a method of approach to religion: “[He] begins by believing in God, but merely believing does not satisfy him. He wants to understand what he believes.”

This should make us think of two things. First of all, it is uncannily similar, yet diametrically opposed to al-Gazali’s cryptic statement, “faith presupposes understanding.” Anselm believes one can’t have understanding – that is, acquaintanceship with God – without faith; faith is a means to God. Al-Gazali on the other hand believes that one must understand and have acquaintanceship before one can have faith. Though I had some reservations about al-Gazali’s formulation, I can’t say I like Anselm’s much better, because the second thing we should notice is that Anselm’s motto seems to trivialize the matter of faith. Anselm himself complicates matters further by saying, “For I do not seek to understand in order to believe; I believe in order to understand.” (Emphasis mine.) Can faith be true faith if it is only a brick on the road to something else? He may be trying to say that his belief is not shallow and static, that it has an aim and a purpose, and that this is a model that we should strive to follow. Even so, something about the line strikes me as odd. Shouldn’t belief satisfy?

The Ontological Proof

With some background of his motives, let us now consider the proof. I’ll summarize the argument, since it’s spread out over the course of a couple pages:

(1) God is, by definition, the greatest being that could possibly exist.

(2) Existence in one’s understanding and existence in reality are different.

(3) Existing in reality is greater than existing in understanding.

(4) God exists in understanding.

(5) By (1) and (3), God must exist in reality.

That was easy.

We keep in mind that Anselm believed that the ontological proof succeeds not only in convincing those who doubt the existence of God, but also in utterly eliminating the possibility of such doubt. In the same way that mathematical proofs admit no possible logical counterarguments, so too should the ontological proof leave no gaps into which one may inject doubt.

Yet before we even think of how Gaunilo approaches the proof, we can see that the proof is not as watertight as Anselm might think it is. It is elegant and even charming, but in the way that falsehoods often appear charming. Each statement by itself presents no serious qualms, but by the end, we feel as if Anselm has pulled a fast one on us. Unlike a mathematical proof, its truth does not become more apparent the longer one considers it. Rather, it seems true only at first glance; and our faith in it quickly deteriorates.

On Behalf of the Fool

Overall, the Proslogion was well received, and its influence is still felt upon the details of Christian theology; it is not, on the whole, controversial. Gaunilo, a French monk from Marmoutiers, wrote Anselm praising him for his faith and his rhetoric throughout the Proslogion, yet he withholds praise from the most crucial section, the ontological proof.

He raises several weaknesses in Anselm’s argument, most of which revolve around the nature of human belief. Unlike belief in a mathematical concept, which is cold, concrete, and utterly logical, Gaunilo sees belief in God as more complex; mere argument is not sufficient. For example, when Anselm refers to God as the being “which is greater than everything else that can be thought,” Gaunilo laments that he can “no more think of it or have it in my understanding in terms of anything whose genus or species I already know, than I can think of God himself.” That is, the very first premise is too abstract to even begin considering. (One may argue that Anselm does not intend for us to conceive of such a being, rather to agree that this is the accepted definition of “God.”) Moreover, since “there is no way to derive from this conclusion [that God exists in understanding; (4), above] that this thing also exists in reality, there is simply no reason for me to concede to him that this thing exists in reality until it is proved to me by some unassailable argument.” The jump from the mind to matter is not one that Gaunilo feels comfortable making.

His most devastating argument, however, is the Lost Island analogy. This one I will quote in full:

“For example, there are those who say that somewhere in the ocean is an island, which, because of the difficulty – or rather, impossibility – of finding what does not exist, some call ‘the Lost Island.’ This island (so the story goes) is more plentifully endowed than even the Isles of the Blessed with an indescribable abundance of all sorts of riches and delights. And because it has neither owner nor inhabitant, it is everywhere superior in its abundant riches to all the other lands that human beings inhabit.

“Suppose someone tells me all this. The story is easily told and involves no difficulty, and so I understand it. But if this person went on to draw a conclusion, and say, ‘You cannot any longer doubt that this island, more excellent than all others on earth, truly exists somewhere in reality. For you do not doubt that this island exists in your understanding, and since it is more excellent to exist not merely in the understanding, but also in reality, this island must also exist in reality. For if it did not, any land that exists in reality would be greater than it. And so this more excellent thing that you have understood would not in fact be more excellent.’ – If, I say, he should try to convince me by this argument that I should no longer doubt whether the island truly exists, either I would think he was joking, or I would not know whom I ought to think more foolish: myself, if I grant him his conclusion, or him, if he thinks he has established the existence of that island with any degree of certainty, without first showing that its excellence exists in my understanding as a thing that truly and undoubtedly exists and not in any way like something false or uncertain.”

We can summarize his argument by juxtaposing it with Anselm’s:

(1) God/the Lost Island is, by definition, the greatest being/island that could possibly exist.

(2) Existence in one’s understanding and existence in reality are different.

(3) Existing in reality is greater than existing in understanding.

(4) God/the Lost Island exists in understanding.

(5) By (1) and (3), God/the Lost Island must exist in reality.

Gaunilo goes on to praise other parts of Anselm’s arguments throughout the Proslogion, but the damage has been done. His kind words about the rest of the treatise cannot make up for the way he savaged the crux of Anselm’s work.

Aftermath

Anselm, for his part, drafts a response, which, to me, doesn’t sound half bad. His refutation of the Lost Island analogy reads:

“But, you say, this is just the same as if someone were to claim that it cannot be doubted that a certain island in the ocean, surpassing all other lands in its fertility (which, from the difficulty – or rather, impossibility – of finding what does not exist, is called “the Lost Island”), truly exists in reality, because someone can easily understand it when it is described to him in words. I say quite confidently that if anyone can find for me something existing either in reality or only in thought to which he can apply this inference in my argument, besides that than which a greater cannot be thought [i.e., God (emphasis mine)], I will find and give to him that Lost Island, never to be lost again. In fact, however, it has already become quite clear that that than which a greater cannot be thought cannot be thought not to exist, since its existence is a matter of such certain truth. For otherwise it would not exist at all.”

The Wikipedia article notes how weak this argument is and how Anselm probably realized that he could not recover from Gaunilo’s refutation. I disagree. I think Anselm is responding to Gaunilo by saying that the only object that could satisfy the criteria of his Lost Island is God. Though Gaunilo is talking about a particular Island among other islands, he is arguing semantics, dancing around the notion of God. This doesn’t mean I’m entirely convinced by Anselm’s proof – Gaunilo’s other arguments, to me, are much more devastating – but I think Anselm responded quite sufficiently to the Lost Island refutation.

What strikes me as interesting about the shortcomings of the ontological proof is that in a way it undermines Anselm’s entire project. The entire dialogue is rather empty and sad: Anselm first writes the Monologion, a speech to himself wherein he sets down his beliefs and a method of proving them; then he writes the Proslogion so that others can understand his beliefs as well; his fellow monk Gaunilo comes and offers his criticism, but his criticism is far too great; and Anselm’s reply, though powerful in certain respects, does not do enough to answer it.

And then… nothing. The conversation ends. We do not know what Gaunilo makes of Anselm’s response, or if we do, then the editor at least didn’t think it was significant enough to include in the volume. Though we still read Anselm to this day, volumes of his work are rarely divorced from Gaunilo’s reply; how many other philosophers or theologians bear the weight of their critics in such a way? It serves as a reminder of Anselm’s earnestness and maybe too his hubris, thinking that he could craft a logical proof of the existence of God.

Stray Observations

• Anselm was a scholastic, sometimes called the founder of Scholasticism. Though the movement was important, we won’t talk too much about the scholastics, but we’ll return to them (briefly) when we read William of Ockham, of “Ockham’s Razor” fame.
• Anselm: “How wretched human beings are!... They have lost the happiness for which they were created and found an unhappiness for which they were not created.”
• Thomas Williams in his introduction notes that Anselm is not considered to be a great rhetorician, but he does play some good word games: “we feel the effect [effectum] of mercy, but you do not feel the emotion [affectum] of mercy.” And again: “For if you are impassible, you do not feel compassion, and if you do not feel compassion your heart is not sorrowful [miserum cor] out of compassion for sorrow; and that is what being merciful [misericors] is.”
• Speaking of God’s mercy: “[I]t is better to be good both to the good and to the wicked than to be good only to the good… For it is out of the fullness of goodness that you are kind to sinners, while the reason why you are lies hidden in the heights of goodness.”
• Does that random orange spot on the picture of the book I found bother the hell out of anyone else?