Riding the Tiger

You might wonder what all that messing about with tigers, definitions thereof, and considerations of the greatest, or most tigerish tiger, was all about. A fair question. The answer is that, at least in my mind, it was all to do with the ontological argument for the existence of God. This might tell you more about my mind and its organisation than you really wanted to know.

The point here is that the greatest, most tiger-like tiger possible is analogous to God, at least insofar as anything is. To be the greatest tiger, or the most tiger-like tiger, the tiger in question has to exist. The greatest tiger cannot be the greatest tiger if the tiger does not exist – existing is part of what we mean by being the greatest, after all. Mohammed Ali could not have claimed to be the greatest boxer if he had not existed. Similarly, we cannot claim that a given tiger is the greatest if that tiger does not (or has not) exist.

With respect to God, of course, we have a slight problem. By many definitions of God God is the greatest. Anselm’s argument, now named the ontological argument, is roughly speaking that given ‘the Fool has said in his heart, there is no God’ (Ps 4:1), the said Fool will know what the word God means. If I say ‘God exists’ then, by the normal rules of language, you will know at least roughly what I mean.

Anselm argues that the Fool knows what the Psalmist is talking about: ‘something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought’. God, here, is simply the greatest thing (in a very loose use of the word ‘thing’) that we can think of, and then some. In fact, the then some is that this great being has to exist, otherwise it would be missing a bit of being the greatest being. Part of the meaning of the word God is that it refers to the supreme being, after all. I suspect that most western people, at least, would agree to that, whether they are atheists of theist or somewhere in between.

Here we have a few links to the greatest tiger post. Firstly, there is the problem of existence. Does the greatest tiger exist? If the greatest tiger does not exist, then it is not the greatest tiger. The question is more pointed with respect to God, of course. If we can imagine the supreme being, something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought, then by the same token as the tiger, He must exist, otherwise something is missing from the greatness.

We also have a definition problem: God is defined as the supreme being and part of that definition is surely ‘something-than-which-nothing-greater-can-be-thought’. In which case the ontological argument proves nothing; it is simply a convoluted but circular argument revolving around the definition of God. We cannot define the greatest tiger and thereby make that tiger exist. Can we, therefore, define God and thereby make Him exist?

Of course, we cannot. If God could be caused to exist by human word definition, we would automatically rule that being out as a candidate for God. The question seems to turn upon our definition and use of words, however. We use the word God in a certain way, and in public discourse we agree on what the word means. Most words we use describe things in the world, whether those are objects, actions, activities or emotions. They may be more or less abstract, granted, we may understand the meaning of words to a greater or lesser extent, but nevertheless, ultimately they are pinned to things in the world.

It is not quite the same with God, of course. Here the analogy with tigers fails. Tigers, whatever they are, are creatures in the world. If I wanted to I could go and observe a tiger, and abstract from that tiger the features of the species. I could then journey on and view a variety of tigers and take their common features. That would be my ‘type’ of a tiger, against which other creatures are judged. A few would match, and I would call them tigers, perhaps of different colours. Many would not and I would have to call them ‘not-a-tiger’ or invent a different type for them.

I cannot do a similar exercise with God, however. The definition of God, after all, is that He is unique and invisible – a spiritual being not a material being. Therefore I cannot go and observe a number of God and abstract the common factors to form an ideal God. The definition of God simply does not work like that.

That does not seem to mean that the definition is unique, however. For example, I can go to a country and say ‘show me the economy’. The locals would probably look at me as if I were mad. The economy is a thing that we cannot actually see. It is something we can see the effects of, and describe in metaphor and analogy: economies slow down, or overheat, or whatever. But the economy as such is not something I can examine. I might see the effects of an economic slow-down, but not see the slowing itself.

Perhaps this is a better analogy than the tiger for God. I can see tigers, I cannot see God, but nor can I see the economy. I can see the effects of the economy, and of course, people differ about whether those effects are good or bad for people. Similarly, I can see the effects of God, at least from certain perspectives. I can believe that the trees I see in the garden, or the tigers in the world, were created by God – not necessarily directly, of course, but by setting initial conditions and processes. I can also not believe that and be an atheist. Both sides can produce evidence for their point of view, as Marxist and capitalist economists can disagree over that their data means for an economy.

But that seems to make the existence of God a personal choice, which, probably, neither theists or atheists would be particularly happy with. Analogies, by definition, fail eventually, and we have found the limits of tiger and economic analogies for God.