The Problem of Existence

Arthur Witherall

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2017
• Print ISBN: 9781138272996
• eBook ISBN: 9781351883542
• Topic: Philosophy
• Subtopic: Philosophy History & Theory

This book explores the question of why there is something instead of nothing. Several responses to this question are possible, but only some of them address the question seriously, respecting its emotional aspects as well as its cognitive dimension. The author carefully distinguishes those answers that are truly satisfactory, in both respects, from those that are inadequate. It can be argued that the existence of the world has no explanation at all, or that there is a necessary being whose existence is self-explanatory, or that the world exists because it has value. Each kind of response is defensible to some degree, and it is argued that where they are defensible, they have a common content. Incorporating aspects of both the 'analytical' and 'continental' traditions, this book also responds to several historical philosophers concerned with these questions, including Plato, Leibniz, Kant and Nietzsche.

Chapter 1
The Fundamental Question of Metaphysics

In this book I shall investigate the question: 'Why is there something instead of nothing?' It is an extraordinary question, rarely asked and rarely answered. It does not easily arise in conversation, for it cannot be openly and cheerfully debated. Instead it appears as a kind of phantom, shrouded in mist and darkness. The question itself, even in the context of a philosophy classroom, has a strange and disquieting atmosphere. It seems to come from the void, and it depends upon the dreadful contrast between being and nothingness, raising the possibility of knowing both. In asking us to reflect upon this contrast, this question lies at the extreme end of philosophical inquiry, and it deserves to be recognized as such. Transcending all of the normal conceptual structures and standards, asking for an explanation beyond any explanatory framework, it seems both inescapable and incalculable.

Yet I will provide an answer to it of a certain kind, through a gradual process involving an investigation of many possible responses. The final result of this process will be represented not as a simple proposition with a distinct information content, but as a general schema which may be instantiated by a variety of explanatory propositions. As such, my answer will not entirely form a closure of the inquiry that is opened up, but I believe that it forms a coherent and complete response, in at least the sense that the investigation has a distinct conclusion.

Dimensions of the Question

My attempt to provide an answer draws upon both the intellectual and emotional aspects of human thought. I will assume that any response to a philosophical question, whether it proves to be intelligible or not, is generated within a particular context, and normally has both a conceptual background and an emotional environment. Most simple questions, arising in science and ordinary life, do not have any serious connection with emotions. This is because the context in which they are asked provides a conceptual background that determines the method of investigation and the content of the possible answers. However, in constructive philosophy, because we deal with extremities such as the basis of moral value, the existence of God, and the nature of reality as a whole, the context is normally far too open-ended to provide such details. Thus it is often the case that we cannot understand our answers to philosophical questions in their entirety without understanding the motives and feelings that have occasioned them. This does not mean that rationality is or ought to be excluded from philosophy. It means only that our responses to philosophical questions are often without a background method which supplies a unique answer through a determinate process, and we must therefore draw upon the resources of human nature as a whole. Since human nature encompasses much more than reason, many philosophical investigations have an emotional basis.

The range of feelings that may be appropriately occasioned by sincerely asking why anything exists is relatively narrow. If the question is interpreted properly, then it is clearly concerned with the fact of existence. This is the fact that there exists something rather than nothing, and the feelings we have about this fact are prompted in part by the nature of our 'encounter with (possible) nothingness'. Such an encounter can be dark and harrowing, or it can be light, creative, and humorous. But whether or not it is uplifting, a confrontation with Nothingness, or with Being itself, inevitably evokes extreme reactions because they represent the extreme limits of thought. As such, the feelings upon which responses may be based will mostly lie in the region of such passions as awe, astonishment, amazement, gratitude, joy, and exultation. These feelings may be called 'positive appreciations' because they are responses to a positive encounter with the fact of existence. We feel these ways when we rise up to meet this fact in some way, rather than shrinking from it or regarding it as oppressive.

The question of existence may also excite fear, anxiety, despair and frustration, which may correspondingly be called 'negative appreciations'. In such cases, we feel the intense difficulty of the question as something too great to handle, and we stagger back from it in some way. These feelings are significant because they help to illustrate where we have lost our way, and may urge us onward to a more complete view of the matter. In many cases, both positive and negative appreciations may lead us to formulate particular responses to the question, and sometimes a negative feeling may spur us on to construct a more complete resolution. However, there are limits to the emotional basis for this inquiry. I consider it unlikely that any serious responses can be formulated on the basis of feelings such as contempt, lust, revenge, pride, anger, or pity. The vast realm of the moral emotions is largely irrelevant in this context, for it is a strictly metaphysical question. Some religious feelings may be relevant, (for example gratitude, joy and exultation may be interpreted as such), but it is highly unlikely that feelings such as piety, holiness, and humility can form the basis of a relevant response.

This has been called the 'fundamental question' of metaphysics.¹ If this is a good name for it, we might expect it to lie at the centre of a great theoretical controversy, but it does not. Relatively few philosophers in this century have given it any serious thought, and fewer still have actually constructed an answer. This is not because they disagree with such a characterization. On the contrary, there are good reasons for thinking that it is at least one of the fundamental questions of metaphysics. It addresses the existence of the world, which is the basic metaphysical fact, and thus appears to be fundamental to our understanding of reality.

The main reason that philosophers have paid so little attention to this question is fear. There is a tendency to fear the unknown, and this applies to things which we suspect cannot be known or cannot be explained. The fundamental question appears to present us with a situation in which we are capable of understanding what is at stake, but incapable of providing an immediate answer. An important aspect of this situation is that there is no natural method, nor any general form of explanation, which easily applies to the inquiry. Hence professional philosophers are generally unwilling to tackle it. They fear that we can have no theory where there is no method of constructing a theory. This makes it an extremely difficult matter. We are dealing with a question without a natural context and without any obvious answer. And yet superficially, it looks like a very simple matter. It can be expressed in a reasonably simple English sentence, without using any jargon and without any reference to complex theories.

Many of those who have tackled the fundamental question, even for a brief period, have reported strange experiences. Insofar as they have felt its depth, they have responded with expressions of awe, anxiety, and bewilderment, and often a sense of being lost in the world. Sometimes, in finding an answer, these feelings can be transformed into a sense of spiritual depth, or otherwise into a sense of absurdity. That is, depending upon the answers that we find, if we are able to find any at all, we may feel that existence is ultimately meaningless, or that it has an immense and indescribable meaning. The conclusion that the world is an absurdity, however, does not make the feeling of awed incomprehension less powerful or more benign. Rarely has the question been tackled without some kind of emotional turmoil, even if this is left implicit in the results that a philosopher produces. Furthermore, when it is treated as if it were a normal problem with a normal solution, the results often seem inadequate to the problem, and inappropriate to the odd feelings that it provokes.

Most people, whether they know anything about philosophy or not, are arrested by the fundamental question when they first encounter it, and most people find it impossible to think of anything that might count as an adequate answer. It is the sort of thing which gives you a sudden shock. If you don't already have a prepared theory to explain why the world exists, you will immediately feel odd when the question is asked. You will realize that you have been living in a world for many years whose very existence is inexplicable to you. In severe cases, this experience is not just an 'intellectual intuition' of oddness, it is a like a transportation from one world to another. It is as if, simply by putting existence itself to the question, you have made it separate from yourself. This makes the world appear in a different light, and it can even make the world lighter, less serious, or more ridiculous in its apparent contingency.

The fundamental question of metaphysics can be interpreted as a technical problem, and to a certain extent traditional analytical and logical tools can be used to deal with it. However, most of these tools are ultimately too blunt to be very useful. Furthermore, this interpretation does not make it easier to grasp the responses that arise from employing analytical methods. Nor does it offer us an easy escape from the unnerving sense that the question simply won't be answered. In certain contexts, it can be seen as an invitation to a sort of parlour game, and it may lead to a witty exchange of critique and counter-critique. But this is not the way it appears to those who ask it sincerely. For those who are genuinely troubled by the inquiry, it is more likely to lead to insomnia, to endless nights of thinking about it this way, then that, and coming up with nothing.

Unlike the problems of politics, religion, and science, the question of existence seems to come from nowhere, without any context or method. It is like an apparition from the void, and it puts everything, even the void, into question. We face not just the problem of why anything exists, but the problem of why there is no obvious explanation-space for this question. It is not a scientific question, nor a truly theoretical question, nor a problem of interpretation, nor a logic puzzle. Although it can be treated as falling into some of these categories, it fits none of them properly. It is a metaphysical question, and because it is fundamental it has no natural explanatory setting. We do not immediately see how we ought to investigate it. This is disturbing, to say the least.

Given that the question does provoke distinctive emotional responses in those who approach it with sincerity, we ought to ask whether an answer, if there are any legitimate answers at all, helps to alleviate these feelings, and whether we need to say anything about the origins of such emotions. Normally, finding the answer to a deep or difficult problem will at least help to eliminate the puzzlement it has occasioned. If we are still feeling odd or uneasy about a question after we have accepted a successful answer, this seems inappropriate. It may be because we are still thinking through its consequences, but if we have truly accepted that a problem is resolved, then it seems we are no longer entitled to feel any wonder, as we might feel in contemplating a great mystery. In the case of the fundamental question, however, it seems possible to continue feeling overwhelmed with awe and wonder, even when one has finished with the problem on an intellectual level. This makes it a peculiar sort of question. Although we can respond intelligently, it is essentially disturbing, even when satisfactory answers are available. There is thus a sense in which even my own construction is necessarily inadequate, for it will not entirely remove nagging, aching feelings of incompleteness. It may, however, meet with other successes, in that it remains true to the general sense of a satisfactory resolution, in both its cognitive and emotive dimensions.

The fundamental question seems to threaten the mind with dissolution, and thus it provokes desperation and fear. Unlike scientific and religious questions, it is difficult to absorb the inquiry into any of the contexts of ordinary life, for it asks about something beyond, or outside of, our everyday experience. It has a tendency to be forgotten or discarded as illegitimate. It also has a tendency to provoke a sense of depth or oddness. It can lead to surprising answers, independently of the dispositions of those who believe that they have a response.

All of this is relevant to a deepened philosophical understanding of the fundamental question. The fact that almost everyone feels odd in some way about the question reveals something about what it is, just as the fact that some philosophers are intolerant of the question reveals something about their dispositions and emotions. The fact that we are often unsure of how to describe the odd feelings that it provokes is also of importance, since it reveals the way that we think about the question. We are also unsure of how to alleviate these feelings (should they be thought undesirable) or deal with the question in a way that would reduce them.

Psychotherapy is useless because the question is an intellectual one, and philosophical analysis rarely treats feelings of any kind, so it too is almost useless. It seems that what we ultimately need is an actual answer, and one that is satisfactory at all of the levels at which we can approach the question. For this we need more than analysis, we also have to employ synthetic methods. We must be able to unite our different approaches to existence, and express these in a revealing explanatory schema. If successful, this will absorb and reflect the total significance of the inquiry, and we may rest. The expression that I will ultimately endorse addresses both the fact of existence itself, and our felt responses to this fact, and it does so regardless of whether we believe that the question can be answered.

Dismissing the Question

In the face of an extraordinary question, it is possible to develop such a headache that one may wish to dispense with it once and for all. This can result in attempts to stop thinking about it, to forget the question, or even to get it off the philosophical agenda entirely. There is a great difference, however, between discarding the fundamental question as something we should not think about, and addressing it seriously by providing reasons to believe that no answer will be forthcoming. The latter, for one thing, may involve a considerable amount of thought, and an investigation into the limits of rationality. The former response, on the other hand, is normally the product of fear, frustration, or anxiety. The following remark by Carl Jung illustrates the radically dismissive response rather well:

If there is something we cannot know, we must necessarily abandon it as an intellectual problem. For example, I do not know for what reason the universe has come into being, and shall never know. Therefore I must drop this question as a scientific or intellectual problem.²

Jung's view appears to be that there is a reason for the universe, but we shall never know what it is. This is remarkable. He dismisses the question as a topic for investigation, but appears to suppose that there could be an answer. It may be said in response that it is a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy to claim that one will never know why the universe exists, and on that basis decide not to pursue it. Jung has supplied no reason to think that he shall never know the answer. He simply dismisses the question. For him, it is not an intellectual problem.

To dismiss a profound philosophical question in this way is not merely to set a limit on human thought, it is to accept that we should not even try to think beyond such a limit. There are a number of examples in the history of science which illustrate that this is an unacceptable approach to impossible problems. Consider the long history of attempts to square the circle, one of the great mathematical problems of the Middle Ages. It exercised hundreds of great minds, and produced many noble efforts and magnificent thoughts. Yet, in the end, it was found that it is impossible to square the circle. Does this mean that nobody should have even tried to do so? Of course not, because if nobody had tried, we would not have known exactly why it was impossible, and we would not have acquired the benefits of the mathematical understanding associated with such knowledge. We would have no knowledge of transcendentals, the properties of pi, and so on.

Another famous example comes from the history of physics. For some time scientists had dreams of inventing a 'perpetual motion machine'. This would have been a magnificent device, one that would never run out of energy and would never stop supplying its products. There were several attempts, ingenious and intricate devices that seemed to come close to the ideal. In the end it was found that the perpetual motion machine is physically impossible, but the process of trying to invent it led to the discovery of the laws of thermodynamics. If nobody had made the effort, we would not know why the device is impossible. We may conclude in general that impossible tasks are not to be shunned or dismissed. The attempt to reach beyond our limitations may not succeed, but it can produce greater understanding. It can lead to significant achievements as well as failures.

And in any case, as Kipling said, we should treat both triumph and disaster as impostors. The very word 'failure' is a pessimist's word. Truly adventurous researchers will instead speak of 'learning why it cannot be done'. Even if, in the end, we are confronted by limitations on philosophical thought, this does not mean that we should be daunted by them, nor that we should not seek, as far as possible, to think beyond them. A true philosopher does not cringe in terror and dismiss the most important questions from fear of 'the unknown'. On the contrary, courage is one of the essential marks of all significant philosophical activity, and the ability to go beyond the suppose...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• Dedication
• 1 The Fundamental Question of Metaphysics
• 2 The Deflationary Response
• 3 Necessitarian Answers
• 4 Ultimate Values
• 5 The Gift of Being
• Index