Faith – Lesson 15

Table of Contents

• Kant’s classification of the proofs
• The ontological proof and Anselm
• Moving to the cosmological proof and its place in theological discourse
• Defining God: philosophical versus religious
• A methodology for arguing with atheists
• The assumptions of the cosmological proof and the distinction between a factual claim and an observation
• Descartes, the cogito, and the acceptability of the assumption that something exists
• David Hume and the principle of causality
• Accepting assumptions versus justifying them
• The eternity of the world, the Big Bang, and alternative theories
• The refutation “Who created God?” and infinite regress
• A revised formulation: causality for contingent things and stopping at Xn
• Reversal of roles: infinite regress as a tool of the believer
• Why infinite regress is a fallacy: “turtles all the way down”
• Circular explanation and the distinction between unbounded and infinite
• Proof versus probability, and conclusion

Summary

General overview

The speaker classifies, following Kant, three types of proofs for the existence of God, and argues that Kant rejects them in the Critique of Pure Reason, while agreeing that Anselm’s proof is not really ontological, though it may still be a good proof if its assumptions are reasonable. He opens the discussion with the cosmological proof and emphasizes that this is a philosophical-deistic discussion, not a proof of the religious God of Sinai, Torah, and tefillin, and therefore a precise definition is needed of what exactly is being proved. He presents the simple causal version, raises the refutation “Who created God?” and the problem of infinite regress, and proposes a revised formulation that limits the principle of causality to a certain category of contingent things / things within our experience. He justifies the claim that infinite regress is an explanatory fallacy by means of the example of “turtles all the way down,” and concludes by stressing that every proof depends on the plausibility of its assumptions, not on absolute certainty.

Kant’s classification of the proofs

The speaker divides the ways of arriving at the existence of God into six or seven types, and notes that Kant’s classification includes three central kinds. He defines ontological proofs as proofs based solely on conceptual analysis, without factual assumptions; the cosmological proof as one that assumes the general fact that something exists, without determining its character; and the physico-theological proof as one that assumes not only that something exists but also certain features such as complexity and purposiveness. He says that Kant claims all three proofs fail in the Critique of Pure Reason, and notes that the ontological proof was discussed at length in previous meetings.

The ontological proof and Anselm

The speaker agrees with Kant that Anselm’s proof is not really ontological, because it relies on assumptions and not on conceptual analysis alone. He argues that the assumptions in this proof are not necessarily simple factual assumptions, but also assumptions about the way consciousness or thought operates. He states that even if the pretension to prove something on a purely conceptual basis fails, that does not invalidate the proof itself, because if the assumptions are reasonable, then the conclusion is reasonable as well.

Moving to the cosmological proof and its place in theological discourse

The speaker presents the cosmological proof as one of the central proofs in theological discourse alongside the physico-theological proof, and argues that the two can be combined into a stronger formulation, though he prefers to proceed in two separate methodological stages. He attributes the initial formulation of the cosmological proof to Thomas Aquinas in the thirteenth century, and notes that after him thinkers such as Avicenna and Spinoza proposed different formulations, and that objections and responses have been discussed throughout the generations. He says that today he will begin with an initial and simple formulation, and afterward move on to challenges and refinements.

Defining God: philosophical versus religious

The speaker argues that arguments for the existence of God must assume a definition, and brings Anselm, who defined God as “the most perfect or complete being that can be conceived.” He states that the question of what has been proved depends on the definition, and therefore one may call the object “God” or not, but philosophically the main thing is proving the defined being. He objects to jumping from a philosophical proof to questions such as revelation at Sinai, the giving of the Torah, tefillin, or Jesus walking on water, and says that this is not relevant at this stage. For purposes of the cosmological proof, he defines God as “the cause of what exists,” meaning the factor that brought what exists into being, and stresses that identifying this immediately with the religious God is jumping the gun.

A methodology for arguing with atheists

The speaker argues that, methodologically, it is advisable to detach the discussion from the religious God, because in a discussion about Sinai and religious obligation, the other person will tend to reject simple foundational assumptions just because he knows where they lead. He describes a situation in which an atheist might reject the assumption that everything has a cause, even though in ordinary discourse he would regard the idea of an event without a cause as absurd. He presents this separation as a “real distinction,” not as a seminar for bringing people to repentance, and adds that in the end he will explain why there is nevertheless a connection, but for now the discussion remains purely philosophical.

The assumptions of the cosmological proof and the distinction between a factual claim and an observation

The speaker presents a simple causal formulation: everything that exists has a cause for its existence; things exist; therefore there is a cause for the existence of what exists, and we call that cause God. He clarifies that the cosmological proof relies on factual assumptions, among them the assumption that something exists and the assumption that everything that exists has a cause. He distinguishes between a factual claim and a claim that is the result of observation, and gives examples such as “there are a billion ants in the world” and the laws of nature, in order to show that factual claims do not have to be the product of direct observation. He argues that the positivists mistakenly identify these two questions, and that one can ask what the source of knowledge is even if it is not observation.

Descartes, the cogito, and the acceptability of the assumption that something exists

The speaker presents the possibility of launching the cosmological argument from Descartes’ cogito, “Cogito ergo sum,” because proving my own existence is enough to establish that something exists. He states that the cogito is a flawed argument because it is not really ontological and contains hidden assumptions, but argues that this is not crucial for making use of the assumption. He says that the main issue is whether the participants in the discussion actually accept that something exists, because assumptions are measured by whether people accept them, not by whether they have been proven ad infinitum. He adds that everyone also assumes that the table exists, even without an argument proving it, and therefore the first assumption is the easy part.

David Hume and the principle of causality

The speaker presents the principle of causality as the second assumption and notes that this is not exactly “cause” in the technical sense, but in the end it is about a generating factor. He brings David Hume, who argued that there is no empirical source for the concept of cause, and that one cannot observe the causal relation itself, but only temporal succession, like kicking a ball and then the ball moving. He compares this to other relations that are not visible to the eye, such as fatherhood or love, and distinguishes them from relations that can be observed, such as right-left and before-after. He says that Hume undermines causality as an “invention” arising from the way we are wired to think, and therefore the generalization that everything has a cause is not established empirically either.

Accepting assumptions versus justifying them

The speaker argues that Hume’s challenge to the empirical source does not topple the cosmological proof if the other person still in practice accepts that there are causes in the world and that everything has a cause. He states that the debate over justifying the assumptions matters only if the other person is genuinely prepared to cast doubt on them, and not if he is merely pointing to arbitrariness in order to evade the conclusion. He demands consistency and argues that if someone rejects causality only in the context of God but not in his scientific work, then he is doing so “just for the sake of the argument.” He presents this as an analysis of the framework of discussion whose purpose is to make the debate “clean.”

The eternity of the world, the Big Bang, and alternative theories

The speaker notes that the simple argument tends to assume that the world is not eternal, and presents an atheistic possibility in the style of Aristotle according to which the world has always existed and therefore was not created. He says that some people use the Big Bang to argue that the world is about fourteen billion years old, and therefore the challenge of the world’s eternity is weakened, but adds that there are theories of a “breathing universe” and previous or cyclical worlds. He argues that such theories are hypotheses without a clear observational basis and are not simpler than the God hypothesis, and therefore are not necessarily a preferable alternative. He adds that the concept of “before the Big Bang” is problematic because the Big Bang is the beginning of the time axis, and therefore talk of “a second earlier” is undefined, unless one adds hypotheses of additional time axes.

The refutation “Who created God?” and infinite regress

The speaker states that the simple causal formulation does not hold up, because it invites the question, “If everything has a cause, who created God?” He says that adding God as an explanation merely pushes the problem one step back and generates a chain of “God 2,” “God 3,” and so on. He presents the possibility of infinite regress and notes that in the world of philosophy it is considered a fallacy, because an argument that rests on an infinite chain of justifications is rejected. He adds that even if someone were to accept such a possibility, in his view it is less plausible than a theory in which God created the world, and he emphasizes that within the accepted rules of philosophical discourse, the very rejection of infinite regress already gives an advantage to the cosmological argument.

A revised formulation: causality for contingent things and stopping at Xn

The speaker proposes a correction: it cannot be that everything has a cause, but one can argue that everything in our experience has a cause, or that everything whose existence is not necessary has a cause. He builds the move as follows: there are things in our experience that exist; such things have a cause; therefore there exists a cause called “X1.” He says that if X1 belongs to the category of contingent things, then it too requires another cause, but if it does not belong to that category, then it does not require a cause and the discussion ends with it. He adds that since infinite regress is a fallacy, the chain must stop at Xn, which does not belong to the group, exists by virtue of itself, and within the framework of this discussion is called God.

Reversal of roles: infinite regress as a tool of the believer

The speaker argues that in the initial formulation, infinite regress served as a tool in the hands of the atheist to topple the argument, but in the revised formulation it becomes a tool in the hands of the believer to build the argument. He describes a move in which the atheist claims that infinite regress is a fallacy in order to attack, and then when this is used to require stopping at a non-contingent object, he tends to backtrack and claim that infinite regress is “not so terrible.” He says this is not a demagogic rhetorical trick but a demand for consistency: if infinite regress is a fallacy, then one must accept its implications, and if it is not a fallacy, then a different discussion has to be conducted.

Why infinite regress is a fallacy: “turtles all the way down”

The speaker brings an example attributed to William James about a Greek physicist who explains that the world stands on a turtle, then on a second turtle, a third, and so on to infinity, and finally says, “It’s turtles all the way down.” He argues that such an explanation is not acceptable because it declares that there is an explanation but does not actually present one, since to present an explanation you need to arrive at a foundational point from which you can climb up to what is being explained. He states that an explanation has to begin from the “bottom” and reach upward, but in an infinite regress there is no “lowest turtle” and no starting point. He distinguishes between mathematical induction, which begins with “one” and proceeds onward, and an attempt to begin at “infinity” and work back to “one,” and argues that “there is no such thing as starting from minus infinity,” and therefore one cannot present a complete explanation that way.

Circular explanation and the distinction between unbounded and infinite

The speaker accepts a comment about a “finite yeshiva session” in Bnei Akiva in which people form a circle, and connects this to Einstein’s distinction between unbounded and infinite, saying that a circle is unbounded but its length is finite. He adds that a circular explanation is not an explanation either, because it anchors the existence of the world in the world itself. He cites the saying, “If there were no God, we would have to invent Him,” as a way of describing the fact that the two options—infinitude or circularity—do not provide an explanation.

Proof versus probability, and conclusion

The speaker is asked whether the cosmological assumption is a proof or a probability, and he replies that he does not distinguish between the two, because every proof is based on assumptions and an evaluation of their plausibility. He argues that only ontological arguments could have avoided this, but he thinks there are no valid ontological arguments after the previous discussions. He concludes that there is no “one hundred percent” in anything, and adds, as an ironic possibility, that “maybe that’s the only thing he’s sure of—that there’s nothing one can be sure of,” and then signs off with “Shabbat shalom.”

Let’s begin. At the start of this series, I defined, or classified, the ways of arriving at the existence of God into six or seven ways, six or seven types. The first, the Kantian classification, contains three of them, three ways within it. Whether it’s “three” in the masculine or feminine—that’s like the topic at the beginning of tractate Kiddushin, whether “way” is masculine or feminine. In any case, Kant’s first type was the ontological proofs: proofs based on conceptual analysis alone, without assuming any factual assumptions or assumptions about reality. Kant’s second type is the cosmological proof, and that’s where we’ll begin today. A cosmological proof is a proof that does assume a factual premise, yes, it does assume a factual premise; it’s not just conceptual analysis. But it assumes a very general factual premise: that something exists. That’s it, without saying anything about that thing that exists. The physico-theological proof is the third type. That is a proof that begins from the assumption that something exists with a very specific character—something complex, something that appears purposeful, it doesn’t matter, there are various versions of this proof—but it’s a proof based on the factual assumption that something exists plus some characteristics of that thing that exists. And therefore that’s a third type. Kant argues that all three of these proofs don’t hold up in the Critique of Pure Reason. The first ontological proof—we dealt with it at some length in the last few sessions—and in the end I agree with Kant, as I showed there, I agree with Kant that the proof is not ontological. Meaning, it’s not only conceptual analysis; there are assumptions there. But even on the methodological plane, it’s a surprising proof, because those assumptions are not simple factual assumptions; they are factual assumptions about how my cognition or my thinking works. Maybe there is also some factual assumption there, not important, there are finer nuances there. Another thing: even if this proof is not an ontological proof, that still doesn’t mean it isn’t a good proof. Meaning, it could be that Anselm’s pretension to present a proof based only on conceptual analysis has fallen. Meaning, it isn’t based only on conceptual analysis. So it’s based on assumptions—but even if it’s based on assumptions, if the assumptions are reasonable, then the conclusion is also reasonable. Meaning, it doesn’t mean the argument loses its value if it loses its ontological character. So all that we discussed in the last classes, the last meetings. Today I want to begin with the cosmological proof, which already starts coming closer to the kinds of proofs we encounter more in theological discourse. The central proofs in theological discourse are the cosmological proof and the physico-theological proof. Actually, I think they can be combined and turned into some stronger integrated formulation, but methodologically I prefer to split the discussion into two different stages. I’ll start with the cosmological proof, and later—not today, later—we’ll talk about the physico-theological proof. The cosmological proof starts with Thomas Aquinas in the thirteenth century, a Christian scholar in the thirteenth century, and he essentially presented the initial formulation of this proof. But after him it went on—Avicenna and Spinoza and various thinkers through the generations proposed different formulations. There were objections, answers to the objections. This proof is an ancient one and there has been a lot of philosophical discussion about it. Now I want perhaps to begin with an initial formulation of this proof. So in a simple causal formulation of this proof, it is built as follows: first premise, everything that exists has a cause for its existence; that is, something created it. Second premise: things exist. You see, here the premise is only that they exist; I’m not assuming anything about the character of those things, therefore this is the cosmological proof. Things exist—the universe, I myself, it doesn’t matter what you decide to assume—but something exists, and on that we will all agree. So if everything that exists has a cause for its existence, and something exists, conclusion: there is a cause for the existence of what exists, and we call that cause God. And here—but here—but here there is also the assumption that the world isn’t eternal, that it wasn’t there forever. I’ll still get to that, I’ll still get to various objections to this proof; this is only an initial presentation of the argument. I just want us to notice that, as I already said, arguments for the existence of God have to assume some definition, and I showed that Anselm made sure to put a definition first before presenting his argument. What did Anselm assume? What did Anselm define as God? The perfect being, or the most complete being conceivable. That is a definition of God, and now we can discuss whether there is an argument for His existence, objections, and arrive at one conclusion or another. But what we proved is the existence of the perfect being. You can call it God or not God, but those are just words. When I ask what it is that I proved, I proved the existence of the perfect being. Call it God or don’t call it God—that doesn’t matter. Because very often, after someone presents an argument in favor of the existence of God, the question immediately arises: wait, wait, wait—but who says He revealed Himself at Sinai, gave the Torah, I don’t know what, or walked on water in the story of Jesus? I don’t know exactly what. How did you get from that to God—the traditional religious concept called God? So I think I already mentioned this, and I’ll say it again: I don’t get there. Right now I’m talking about a purely philosophical issue, unrelated to one religious belief or another. The question is whether there exists a being that one could call God, or something else, whose existence can be proved. It doesn’t matter what you call Him—call Him Yankeleh, it really doesn’t matter. Therefore this whole discussion of “wait, but who said He gave the Torah and wants me to put on tefillin” is irrelevant to the discussion. I’m speaking now about a purely philosophical discussion. And therefore it’s very important to define who this God is whose existence I’m positing, because if this were the religious God, then I understand—the One who revealed Himself at Sinai and gave us Torah—that is what we want to prove the existence of. Then in the subtext it is very clear who this object is whose existence we are proving. But if I set aside the religious aspect and deal with the philosophical, theological, deistic question—not theistic, okay? Not God in the religious sense but God in the philosophical sense, whose existence I want to prove—then Anselm defined: that is the being than which no more complete being can be conceived. That’s the definition of the object he proposed, and he tried to prove its existence. What is the God whom I define for the purpose of the cosmological proof? The cause of what exists, the cause of the existence of what exists, whatever we assume exists—that is, the thing that created what exists. That is the definition, and again, it need not be the perfect object Anselm spoke about, and certainly not the object that revealed Himself at Mount Sinai and gave the Torah, if there was such a being at all. That identification is not something I’m committed to in the philosophical discussion. After we finish the philosophical discussion, and I prove the existence of God in this sense, in this definition, then we can begin discussing whether there is any connection and whether it can be shown that He also revealed Himself at Sinai and gave the Torah, and so on—but that’s jumping ahead. Right now I’m dealing with a purely philosophical question, unrelated to God in the religious sense. I’m saying: at the end of the process I’ll still explain why there is nevertheless some connection, but right now it’s important to me to separate the discussion. By the way, also in the methodological sense, since I already have quite a bit of experience: when arguing with atheists and talking with them about proofs for the existence of God, it is highly, highly recommended to make this separation. Because the moment we argue about the God who revealed Himself at Sinai, you’ll see that suddenly no basic premise is acceptable to him, however reasonable it may be. He would hospitalize someone who didn’t accept such a premise—but in this discussion he suddenly says: no, no, I don’t accept a premise like “everything has a cause.” Try suggesting to an atheist some claim that something happened without a cause—he’ll hospitalize you. But if you show him that a proof for the existence of God requires the premise that everything has a cause, he will immediately reach the conclusion that he doesn’t accept that premise. And the reason for that is—and yes, that too has a reason—the reason is that he knows where it leads in the end. In the end it leads him to the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai, religious obligation, and all kinds of dark things of that sort. And therefore, even methodologically—though it is also true substantively—it is very important to delimit the discussion to the philosophical plane. I’m not dealing with the religious God; let’s talk about whether such an object exists in the philosophical sense—not Sinai, not tefillin, not anything else. All right? I’m just—not Torah, nothing—I only want to discuss a philosophical issue, so that you can approach it more cleanly, more as a tabula rasa. You’re not in a defensive posture that causes you to deny all kinds of basic premises even though they’re very simple; it always turns into an irrelevant argument. I think that in that sense it makes the discussion much cleaner. After I’ve proved the—after we agree on the existence of God in the philosophical sense, we’ll move on and see what that means in the religious sense. I think that also contributes on the religious plane, but it is very correct both substantively and methodologically not to point to that, but to begin with a philosophical discussion. Okay? No, this isn’t a seminar for bringing people to repentance here. I’m explaining this as an illustration, as an illustration of a real distinction I’m making. Yes, this is not instruction in how to manipulate people; rather, this distinction is a real one. I really am dealing right now only with the philosophical God. I’m just saying in parentheses: know that later I will argue that there is a connection between this question and the religious God—but what difference does that make? Right now I want to discuss this question. Okay? That’s the first remark. We have to define the concept of God, and I defined it here for the purpose of the discussion: God is the cause of reality, or the cause of what exists, the one who created what exists. Now, the premise, as I said, of this argument is that things exist. That is a factual premise. Unlike the ontological argument, in this argument there is also a factual premise on the table, a premise about something that happens in the world—namely, that things exist. In addition, there is another premise: that everything that exists has a cause for its existence. What is that? Is that a factual premise? Yes, plainly yes. Everything that exists has something that created it. That is a claim about reality, a factual claim. No, I’m not saying that this claim is the result of observation, meaning that I saw it with my eyes; we’ll talk about that later. But it is a claim that says something about the world. All right? I think I mentioned this in the Introduction to Faith. Suppose I claim there are a billion ants in the world. That is a factual claim, because I’m claiming some fact about what happens in the world. Obviously that is not the result of observation; it’s not the result of my having observed all the ants, counted them, and arrived at a billion. Meaning, the question whether a claim is the result of observation, and the question whether a claim is a factual claim, are two different questions. Unlike what the positivists think—they identify the two questions—but that is not correct. They are completely separate questions. One can ask where you know the fact from if it is not the result of observation. Fine, that’s a good question. But categorically, saying that something is a factual claim and saying that something is a result of observation are not the same thing. Yes, the laws of nature are factual claims—they say something about the world—but they are not the result of observation. The observation was of specific cases; the law of nature deals with the totality of cases, the totality of phenomena. I have not seen the whole totality of phenomena that the law of nature is talking about, and still I assert that claim. So that claim is a factual claim, but it is not the result of observation—not of observation alone. Observation of examples, yes, but the examples themselves do not give me the law of nature. Can you prove that? I can’t hear. Can you prove that? A claim, an axiom—it’s an early claim that you’re not going to prove, you’re just raising a hypothesis. About what? Which claim do you mean? About the claim that every being has a creator, has someone who created it. We’ll get there, we’ll get there—that’s already objection territory. Right now I just want to clarify the infrastructure on which the argument is based, and then we’ll get to those objections. Okay. So we actually have here two factual premises: one premise is that something exists, and the second premise is that everything that exists has a cause. Now there is definitely room to discuss the question of where we get these two factual premises from. And that already leads to your earlier question. How do we know these factual premises? So I’ll begin with the claim that something exists. Descartes built his path to God—one of the ways to reach God—on his cogito principle. Meaning, his cogito: cogito ergo sum, yes, I think, therefore I am. The cogito proves my existence, that I exist. Now that is enough as a premise for the cosmological argument. If I exist, that means that there is something that exists—me. And if so, there has to be something that created me, so apparently there is God, or there is something that created me. In other words, one could have launched the cosmological argument from Descartes’ cogito. Descartes’ cogito proves that I exist—incidentally, it supposedly proves it in an ontological way, that is, by conceptual analysis alone without observation. But after I have already reached the conclusion that I exist, now it is possible to activate the cosmological argument and arrive at the conclusion that there is God, that someone or something created me. But Descartes’ cogito argument is a failed argument. It doesn’t really succeed in proving that I exist in an ontological way. And therefore the question is whether one can build on it. So here I’ll make two remarks. First remark: what I remarked about Anselm’s argument, and therefore the methodology of moving from Anselm’s argument to this one is important, because we learned things from it even if in the end maybe we didn’t adopt it. But we learned things from it. The cogito argument—the flaw in Descartes—is a flaw that stems from the fact that the argument is not really an ontological argument. It is not really based only on conceptual analysis. It has hidden assumptions. And as I said about Anselm, the fact that there are assumptions only means that the argument is not ontological; it does not mean that the argument is not correct. And let me just ask each of you: do you think that you yourselves exist? I assume you would all answer me positively. So why should I care whether you have a proof for that or not? If you believe it, I can use that as a premise on which I build the existence of God. It doesn’t matter at all whether the cogito argument is valid and whether it is ontological or not. What is this? Without the cogito argument. I’m saying: after all, each of us agrees that something exists. It doesn’t matter right now whether rightly or wrongly, but clearly we assume it. Once we assume it, that is an acceptable premise on which I can build an argument. Why do you assume it? Ask yourself why you assume it—why should I care? I can, however, set out from the starting point that you think something exists, because that really is what you think. Okay, therefore I’m exempt from proving that premise to you, because that premise you already agree with. Beyond that, I’ll just say: leave me myself out of it—obviously I exist—but the table in front of me also exists, and I assume we would all agree on that too. So leave it aside—I don’t have an argument proving the existence of the table, but each of us assumes that this table exists. That is a premise that seems reasonable to all of us, that’s all. Premises are measured in the following way, in this way—not whether they have a proof, but whether I accept them. If I accept them, excellent—now I can build a proof based on those premises. It’s not reasonable that every premise itself should have to be the conclusion of an argument based on prior premises—where would that stop? Therefore it’s obvious that we begin with certain premises, and what’s required is that we accept them. Why do we accept them? Let everyone give himself his own accounting—it really doesn’t matter. Therefore the premise that something exists is the simple part of the matter. Okay? The question is what happens with the premise that everything that exists has a cause. Here too one has to understand: in this sense it’s not exactly “cause” as in “creator”; there is in fact a creator. The creator can work through causes, but in the end there is some factor that creates the thing. But for now I’ll leave that aside; maybe we’ll get to that distinction later. This principle, that everything has a cause, is what is called the principle of causality. Now surprisingly—and I think I mentioned this, I’m not sure if in this series, I mentioned it in other contexts—David Hume showed that the principle of causality itself has no empirical source. It is not the result of observation. People think that I derive the principle of causality the way I derive all the laws of nature. I see certain cases in which event A caused event B, I see that in all events I always find a cause that produced the event, and then I generalize and say: so apparently everything has a cause. Almost like the scientific move. I see that bodies fall to the earth—body A, body B, body C—I see there are no exceptions, so apparently all bodies, even those I didn’t observe, will fall to the earth. Okay, a reasonable scientific generalization. Except for one thing: while I do indeed see that bodies fall to the earth—that I see with my eyes—how can I see a specific case where event A was the cause of event B? David Hume says there is no way to see that. Suppose I kick a ball and the ball flies away. So I usually interpret that as: the kick was the cause of the ball flying away. Who says so? What did I see with my eyes? What I saw with my eyes was that first there was a kick and after that the ball flew. That’s what I saw with my eyes. To say that the kick is the cause of the ball flying—that is my interpretation. True, all I saw was temporal proximity. With my eyes I cannot see relations. With my eyes I cannot see that A is the cause of B. With my eyes I also cannot see that A is B’s father. With my eyes I also cannot see that A loves B. I can see practical expressions of those relations, but I cannot see the relations themselves. And therefore a determination about a relation—this kind of relation, I mean—that A is to the right of B, that’s a spatial relation, that I can see. Or that A precedes B, that’s a temporal relation, that too I can see. But that A is the cause of B—that I cannot see with my eyes. That is an interpretation. I see that someone kicks and the ball flies; someone else kicks and again the ball flies. So I make some interpretation and say: apparently the kick is the cause of the ball flying. But David Hume argues that the whole concept of cause is our invention. It has no source in experience, in observation; it has no empirical source. And therefore the interpretation of a sequence, that event A is the cause of event B—that too is basically our invention or fantasy. It has no objective source; it’s just a decision, our decision. And if that is so with regard to every particular case we observe, then it is certainly true with regard to the general law that says that everything must have a cause, because that law is a generalization from the particular cases regarding which I established a causal connection. And if in the particular cases I have no way to establish that, then I can’t really establish the general law either. Therefore David Hume essentially undermined the concept of causality and the principle of causality. He said that both of these are human inventions. Our minds are hard-wired in such a way that we tend to think causally, and therefore we make such interpretations of what happens in the world. But the world owes us nothing; it was here first—I already said this—Mark Twain. The claim that because we are built this way, therefore that’s really what happens in the world, does not follow. Therefore, says David Hume, precisely as an empiricist, as someone who sticks to observations, causality and the principle of causality are not concepts that an empiricist can accept. They are not the result of observation. That is one side. Does this undermine the cosmological argument? Seemingly yes, because it assumes that everything has a cause; it assumes the principle of causality. But in practice it seems to me that it does not. And the explanation is exactly like the explanation I gave about the first premise. All David Hume showed is that we have no observational source for the concept of cause and the law of causality. Fine, I accept that. But I’m not interested in what the source is of my thinking in terms of causes and of my adopting the principle of causality. The question is whether in practice I adopt it. I ask my interlocutor: do you think there are causes in the world? I assume most, if not all, would say yes. Do you think that everything in the world has a cause? He’ll answer yes to that too. So why should I care if that is not the result of observation? Exactly as I don’t care whether my existence is not the result of the cogito principle or of conceptual analysis. What I need for the purpose of the cosmological argument is that the person I’m talking to accepts these two premises. I don’t care whether he’s right about them, wrong about them, why he accepts them—does he accept them? I’m not interested in anything else. That is the only thing that matters. If he accepts them, I can build on that and continue. Therefore all the discussions about whether these premises are true or not true have limited significance. Because if in the end you think they are true, then why should I care if it’s unjustified and has no empirical source and whatever else you want? If you think it’s true, then I build my argument on that. I’m talking to you, not to David Hume. All right? So again, one has to pay close attention here; it’s just a bit of skill in scholasticism, yes, in arguments and the logic of arguments. Debates about the premises have significance only if my interlocutor is willing to cast doubt on the premise. But if he merely shows me that the premise is arbitrary and has no empirical source, then why is that interesting? I’ll ask you: fine, you’re right—but do you accept that premise? If you accept it, then leave me alone, please. You accept the premise, so that’s it—I’ll build on it. Why should I care now whether it is justified and why it is true? So maybe it isn’t true. But do you accept it? If you accept it, I’ll show you that from it such-and-such a conclusion follows. That’s all—and then you also have to accept the conclusion. And if you are willing to cast doubt on the premise because of your objections, that’s something else—that’s already a real argument. Because there you’re saying: wait, wait, wait, I’m not at all sure I accept that premise. Fine. But then I’ll want to hear from you whether you also don’t accept that premise in your scientific work. Do you reject there too the principle that everything must have a cause, since you say you don’t accept that premise? Usually that will not be the case. So if that is not the case, then it basically means that you’re doing this only for the sake of the argument. You do accept that premise. So here this is a very important analysis of the framework of the discussion. Okay, let’s continue. This discussion—yes, perhaps a remark about what Professor Turkel said earlier. There really is some assumption here that the world was created, that it is not infinite in time, and therefore I ask, I say, that something probably created it. So here I’ll still get to this later, I’ll just make a remark. Some atheist might come and say: no, the world is eternal, like Aristotle said, it always was. Therefore there is no need to discuss who created it, because it was never created, it always was. So here there are those who pull out of the attic current, modern physics—the Big Bang. And the claim is that since scientifically we have reached the conclusion that the world is not eternal, that it is about fourteen billion years old, then Aristotle’s objection of the eternity of the world has fallen—fallen scientifically. In that sense we usually understand the Big Bang as an argument against the existence of God. In that sense the Big Bang actually builds the proof for the existence of God, because it removes the ground from under the possibility that the world always existed. Now of course that’s not entirely true, because today there are all sorts of theories of a breathing universe, sine waves, the world is destroyed, created, destroyed, created, and so on. We’ll get to those things later. I’m only making this remark: there really is a point here that the world is not eternal. Okay, we’ll talk about it. In any case perhaps let’s still say one more sentence: even if you say that before the Big Bang there was something else and the world breathes and so on, there are all kinds of physical theories of this type—these are theories that, it seems to me, if we need to decide on whom to place the burden of proof, then the burden of proof should be placed on the one who says them. What we see is our world. We see that our world was created fourteen billion years ago. You want to claim that there were all kinds of worlds before and breathing and destroyed and created and all things of that sort—these are all sorts of crazy hypotheses that are no less crazy than the hypothesis of God, with which you accuse me. You’re inventing all kinds of wild inventions; you have no basis for this. So why is that preferable to the thesis that there was a God who created the world? After all, you are offering it as an alternative that is superior to mine. So one should notice that even if I accept the possibility of such theories, that still does not deliver a fatal blow to the argument. More than that, the concept “before the Big Bang”—the very concept “before” is, plainly, not defined at all, because the Big Bang is the beginning of the time axis. So to ask what was before the Big Bang means… so what was one second earlier? There was no second earlier. The concept of a second, or the time axis, was created with the Big Bang. Therefore it is highly doubtful how much one can even speak about things that were before the Big Bang. So then people invent additional time axes and internal time axes and all kinds of things of that sort. These are all kinds of wild hypotheses, and it is highly doubtful that even if they were perhaps possible, they offer a simpler answer than the answer that there is a God who created the world. You’re basically saying: leave it, no need to get to the complicated answer of God, I have a simple scientific answer. And your answer is really neither scientific nor simple. It’s not scientific because it has no observational basis, and it is very far from being simple. So even if this is a possible option, I still have to weigh which of the two options seems more reasonable to me. And therefore I say that all arguments of this type in any case do not deliver a fatal blow to the argument, but rather offer an alternative—and now ask yourself which alternative is more plausible and which is less plausible. Just a remark: I agree, but there are all sorts of theories of what’s called the multiverse, that there are infinitely many universes, and I read in books, “that’s reasonable; God is not reasonable.” Okay, so I don’t think that’s right, but we’ll talk about that when we talk about the physico-theological proof. The multiverse is relevant there, not here, so we’ll talk about it there. In any case, let’s return for a moment to the flow of the argument; this was just to see the framework. There’s also quantum theory, which says there can be spontaneous formation. Basically you don’t need something to create the thing. We’ll get there, God willing, without making a vow. Good. So regarding the argument itself, I’m returning to the argument itself. The argument itself was built from the premise that something exists, from the premise that everything that exists must have a cause that created it, and from this the conclusion is that there is a cause for what exists, and that is God. That in itself is an argument that doesn’t hold water. The first objection that arises—and here I’m already beginning to enter into objections; I’m not yet putting it fully into the framework of objections because I’m going to improve the formulation, but this is seemingly an objection—the question is: if everything has a cause, then who created God? Everything that exists must have a cause. You say that God exists? Fine, then He too must have a cause. So who created God? Basically, adding God to the game as an explanation that He created the world didn’t really solve the problem of who created this thing; it only pushed it back one step. Now the question is: who created God, and who created the one who created God? And somewhere you will have to stop. And then what happens when you stop? When you stop, something will happen such that in fact you’ve arrived at something that has nothing else that created it, right? Somewhere in that chain. But if so, then there you have it: your premise that everything that exists must have a cause is not correct. Your argument defeats itself, saws off the branch on which it is itself sitting. Because if you say that everything in the world must have a cause, then God too must have a cause, and His cause too must have a cause, and so on. Now somewhere this has to stop. Who is first in this chain? That first one is something that itself has no cause. Here, then, is a refutation of your premise that everything that exists must have a cause that created it. Your argument itself removes the ground from under the very premise on which it rests. Okay, that is basically the claim. Now one can of course go further and say, the other side of the coin: the one who created the world is God one. Who created God one? God two. Who created God two? God three. And so on to infinity. Who said it has to stop? Who said there has to be at some stage in the chain some God n—yes, n, the English letter n—for whom there is nothing else that created him? Perhaps this simply continues and does not stop. It continues infinitely. If it continues infinitely, what does that mean for our discussion? I don’t know. Does it mean there is God or that there isn’t God? I have no idea. Personally I think it means nothing—not that there is God and not that there isn’t. This is what is called an infinite regress. In the world of philosophy, when a certain argument is based on an infinite chain of reasonings, the argument is disqualified. It is not legitimate in philosophical discourse. This is called the fallacy of regress—regress means retreat. Infinite regress, endless retreat. You explain A by means of B, B by means of C, and so on to infinity. That is not a legitimate argument. Therefore in philosophical discourse infinite regress is considered a fallacy. Later I’ll explain why. But before I explain why, again I want to qualify the significance of this point. Suppose you don’t understand this, you think infinite regress is not necessarily a fallacy, okay? Maybe one can speak of an infinite chain of causes and effects. Even so, the one who raises the thesis of infinite regress is at a disadvantage compared to the one who says God created the world. That is a simpler theory. Therefore even if there is such an option, I still have to check which of the two options is more plausible. And I think that infinite regress—even if in principle it is possible, and in my opinion it isn’t possible—but even if it is possible, to me it is a very implausible hypothesis. Therefore the argument can still hold water even if you take into account the possibility of infinite regress. Another remark on this matter: in philosophical discourse it is clear that infinite regress is considered a fallacy. So if I proved the existence of God at least within the accepted framework of philosophical discourse, I’ve already done something. Maybe you disagree with the rules of philosophical discourse and you think you’re some big genius, smarter than all the philosophers—fine. But you have to admit that I’ve done something here, meaning that within the accepted framework of philosophical discourse I have proved the existence of God. Anyone who accepts philosophical discourse has to accept the existence of God. So maybe you don’t accept it, but you understand that your position is already weaker. Because basically I’ve shown that in ordinary accepted rational discourse the required conclusion is that there is God. True, you have some twisted way out of it. So what? I keep telling you: this is simply the product of many years of arguments and discussions around these matters. I’ve heard all these arguments from every direction, and I’m trying to show you how these arguments don’t really succeed in toppling the cosmological argument, even though they seem like devastating blows. But here I want to argue that if indeed infinite regress is perceived by me as a fallacy—and for now I will assume that methodological premise—then you agree that the picture comes out very problematic. Because the argument begins from the fact that something exists. Everything that exists must have a cause, so there is a sign that there is God, there is the cause of what exists. But now the question immediately arises: if everything that exists must have a cause, then what is the cause of God? God 2, God 3, God 4, and so on. Since infinite regress is a fallacy—that’s my premise—then this stops somewhere at God n. Okay, there it stops. But if that is so, then there is an object that exists that has no cause. So how does that fit with the premise of the argument? That’s where I started from—that everything that exists must have a cause. That premise defeats itself. That is basically what the atheist can claim here. Therefore this is proof that the premise is not correct. It cannot be that everything in the world must have a cause—whether you are an atheist or not an atheist. That premise is not correct. And what I said earlier—notice—if I claim that the premise of the argument is not correct, that really is a good refutation. If I say that maybe the premise isn’t correct or I have thoughts about what the proof for it is, that isn’t interesting. The question is whether I accept it or not. But here I’m saying: no, no, I don’t accept it. The premise is not correct, because it leads to its own contradiction. It defeats itself. That really is problematic. It topples the cosmological argument. Because the cosmological argument rests on the premise that everything must have a cause, and here we reached the conclusion that this premise itself cannot hold water. It is refuted. Now here I want to propose a corrected formulation of the cosmological proof, and this will be the cosmological proof that I discuss. I want to argue the following, and I’ll summarize the conclusions of everything I’ve analyzed up to this point. It cannot be that everything in the world has a cause, because that is a premise that undermines itself. But on the other hand, we all agree that we do accept the principle of causality, that everything must have a cause. How do we handle that dissonance? Our initial intuition says that everything must have a cause, but if you take that as-is, as it stands, it undermines itself, it defeats itself. So what—give up that intuition? Usually Ockham’s razor says no: you don’t give up that intuition. Rather, what do you do? You articulate the theory, refine the theory. What does that mean? I want to argue that everything in my experience has a cause. Or: everything whose existence is not necessary must have a cause. That is the initial premise on which I want to build. Everything else continues as usual. Now there exists in the world something that is in my experience—myself, the table in front of me, the computer, whatever it may be—something from among the kinds of things in my experience. These things must have a cause, because everything in my experience has a cause. Now the conclusion: these things have a cause, therefore there is God—or if you want, I’ll call Him X1. Fine? Not God—X1. Now I say: let’s return to the earlier discussion. What about X1 itself? What is its cause? Here the discussion now splits. If X1 is one of the entities in my experience, the contingent entities, yes, whose existence is not necessary, then indeed it must have a cause. We’ll call it X2. If X1 is an entity that does not belong to that category, then it need not have a cause. Remember? We corrected the premise. Not everything must have a cause, only everything of the kind in my experience, the contingent beings. So it depends: if X1 is such a thing, it must have a cause. If X1 is not such a thing, the discussion is over—X1 is God. If X1 is such a thing, then it must have a cause; let’s call it X2. Now again: is X2 such a thing? If yes, it must have a cause, let’s call it X3. If it is not such a thing, then X2 is God. And so on: X3, X4, X5—where does this stop? Since infinite regress is a fallacy, notice, I’m gathering all the insights we’ve accumulated so far—since infinite regress is a fallacy, there is no avoiding the conclusion that at some stage this chain must stop, at Xn. So Xn is the object that is not in my experience, and it exists by its own power; there is nothing else that created it, and this is the beginning of the causal chain. Xn in this discussion is called God. Maybe a question: why not a simpler answer? I say that everything in the universe has some cause. God is outside the universe, and therefore… Fine, that’s another formulation. You define my categorical distinction a little differently. It doesn’t matter. The logic is that I create some category such that only with respect to it do I assume that everything must have a cause. I called that category “things in my experience”; you call that category “things in the universe.” It doesn’t matter to me—let each person define it as he likes—but this is the logic on which the cosmological argument has to be built. Not the premise that everything has a cause, because that is a premise that undermines itself. Rather the premise that everything from the group of entities we know must have a cause. And now one has to discuss the cause: is it from that group or not from that group, until one arrives at some X that is certainly not from that group—and one must arrive there, because otherwise this is an infinite regress. So if we assume that infinite regress is illegitimate, that means there must be an n such that Xn is the first in the chain, with no prior cause before it, and that is the proof for the existence of God. So that, it seems to me, is the argument one can work with. Now we understand the importance of infinite regress. We see how much—because usually when people present the cosmological proof, the atheist immediately pulls out this card that it leads us to an infinite regress. Because if everything must have a cause, then so must God, and God two, three, four. In short, he tells me: infinite regress topples your argument. But now it turns out that the situation is exactly the opposite. If you accept that infinite regress is a fallacy, that is what builds my argument. My argument is a necessary result if you assume that infinite regress is a fallacy. Meaning, to say that infinite regress is a fallacy—that is not the atheist’s argument, it is the believer’s argument. It’s a kind of role reversal, after of course I updated the formulation of the argument: not everything has a cause, but everything in my experience has a cause. In the initial formulation, infinite regress topples the argument because it shows that its premise is not correct. So there it is a tool in the hands of the atheist. In the corrected formulation, infinite regress is a tool in the hands of the believer. The believer has taken this tool from the atheist: true, the simple argument fell, but I have a corrected argument that is actually built on the premise that infinite regress is a fallacy. And now you, the atheist, who yourself said that infinite regress is a fallacy, must admit that my argument is a correct one. Of course, if you now find yourselves in that situation, what will happen? You know what will happen in practice? The atheist will remember that infinite regress actually isn’t so terrible after all. I’m telling you, this is a tested rule—there has never been a discussion of this sort in which that didn’t happen. So this is a very interesting dynamic, and therefore I think experience matters. Meaning, if you begin at the first stage with the defective argument—again, in parentheses, a note to Arachim lecturers, okay? Meaning, if you begin with the defective formulation, you force the person opposite you to say that infinite regress is a fallacy, because that’s how he attacks you. Now take that, leverage his own premise, present a corrected argument—now he can’t deny it, because he himself claimed earlier that it’s a fallacy. So now you can use that to prove the existence of God and shut his mouth. Now let me say again: I call this instruction for Arachim instructors or for people who bring others to repentance, but that’s not right. This is guidance for real methodology, not demagoguery. Because the one being demagogic here is the atheist. The atheist uses that rule when it suits him, and when it doesn’t suit him he suddenly says he doesn’t accept it. So what I’m claiming is simply that this is inconsistent. You have to decide: if infinite regress is a fallacy in your view, then go with that. If it is not a fallacy in your view, then go with that. But don’t pull out of a hat whatever is convenient each time. This is not demagogic rhetorical advice about how to defeat an opponent. It clarifies the nature of the argument. I’m trying to say that, really, you have to decide: if your premise is that infinite regress is a fallacy, let’s talk that way. If your premise is that infinite regress is not a fallacy, we’ll talk differently. But decide—don’t keep pulling something out of a hat each time that will keep you alive. All right? This is not guidance for demagoguery; it’s a real distinction. Meaning, this is genuinely how one ought to conduct a fair argument. Now I want to explain why infinite regress is a fallacy. So again, before I explain it, let me remind you that even if infinite regress is not a fallacy in the full sense, the very fact that in philosophy it is accepted as a fallacy already means that the cosmological argument is a good argument. To get rid of it or disagree with it, you have to step outside the bounds of accepted philosophical discourse. Meaning, the burden of proof is on you. That already means this argument is not a trivial one; it’s not an argument you can brush aside. Even if you can present a thesis that infinite regress is perhaps possible, the very fact that it is accepted that it isn’t means that in accepted philosophical discourse I have proved to you that there is God. Now you can depart from that and say: I disagree with all the philosophers. Fine—but if all the philosophers arrive at the conclusion that there is God, that already means it’s not a bad argument. Okay? But I also want to show—that’s one thing—but beyond that I want to show why one really should say that this is a fallacy. Meaning, even if it weren’t a fallacy, the argument still wouldn’t be bad. But I also want to persuade you why one really should say that it is a fallacy. The canonical example of this, I think, is an example of William James, who was an American philosopher. I would define him basically as a philosopher, a psychologist, an American pragmatist. Some people define—Americans are used to defining pragmatism as philosophy; I don’t know why, it did nothing wrong. In any case, he presented the following picture: a Greek physicist gives a lecture before the residents of Athens about his cosmology. And he explains that the world stands on the back of a giant turtle, Atlas. Fine. Then some woman in the audience raises her hand and asks: and the turtle—what is the turtle standing on? So he says to her: the turtle stands on another turtle, turtle two. A second turtle, a third turtle—it’s like in the army. Turtle two. So this woman raises her hand and says: and what is turtle two standing on? On turtle three. She thinks about it, digests it, and after a minute raises her hand again. He already knows what she is going to ask, and says to her: listen, don’t you understand what they’re telling you? It’s turtles all the way down. Would you accept an explanation like that? Of course not, right? It’s ridiculous. That is the explanation of infinite regress. What does it really mean? You explain claim X by means of A, A by means of B, B by means of C, and so on to infinity. Okay? What are you really telling me? What do you mean “to infinity”? What is this “all the way down”? Is there some first turtle down there at the bottom? Then I’ll ask again what it’s standing on. If there isn’t such a thing, then that means there is no such thing as “down.” What is “down”? What do you mean, “turtles all the way down”? There is no “down.” You simply continue and continue and continue all the time. Or in other words, what you are really telling me, Mr. Physicist, is this: is there an explanation or is there no explanation? You are not offering the explanation. You are only declaring that there is an explanation, but you are not offering it. To offer it, you need to show me the whole chain from beginning to end. But it’s impossible to show me the whole chain from beginning to end. Let me put it differently. In order to offer an explanation for the existence of the world in such a way that it constitutes an explanation, you have to start from the bottom, not from the top. Do you understand what I’m saying? Meaning, let’s go back to the physicist. In order to offer an explanation for why the world is standing here in the air, you can’t begin from the first turtle attached to the world and then move to the turtle beneath it. That is not an explanation. Because you never arrive at what actually explains, so how can you say that you have offered an explanation? You haven’t offered any explanation. You’ve only said that later on there will be an explanation. When we get to the “later on,” you say, yes, yes, later on there will be an explanation. All along you’re just promising me that later there will be an explanation, but you are not presenting an explanation. So how can you treat such a thing as an explanation? But the principle of induction is a bit against this. You say there is an assumption that A, in every place where there is, you can see that if there is something, there is something else—so that’s the principle of induction. So why not here? I’ll get to induction. Induction goes from top to bottom, from one to infinity. An explanation has to start from infinity and get to one. Induction comes to prove a proposition about all numbers without committing to the question of how many numbers there are. So there’s no problem: induction is perfectly fine, unless you’re an intuitionist. And whoever is not an intuitionist has no problem with induction. So induction proves the claim about all the numbers there are, all the natural numbers there are, okay, without entering into the question of how many natural numbers there are. But here, in an explanation, you are entering the question of how many there are. Because in order to offer me the explanation, you have to begin from the lowest turtle and go up until you reach the world, and then you’ve finished presenting the explanation to me. But you can’t begin from the lowest turtle, because there is no lowest turtle. Those who believe that before the Big Bang there was another universe, they say there are infinitely many such things in time. There was no beginning, no bottom or anything, but there was always a world and after that another world, and there wasn’t something that began. So I’ll answer you what I answered Daniel; it’s the same question. What I’m saying here is: if you go backward from here… I have no problem with the statement that there were infinitely many worlds. But if you offer that as an explanation for the existence of our world, I do have a problem with it. It’s not an explanation. Because if, in order to claim there are infinitely many worlds, you can use induction—from our world to the one before it, from that one to the one before it, and so on—I have no problem with that. Because you’re basically saying there are as many worlds as you like. That’s fine; you’re not committing yourself to how many worlds there are. When you say “infinite,” of course you mean as many as you want; infinity is not a number. Therefore I don’t need to explain that. But in order to offer an explanation here, you have to begin from the last world, not from our world. Because you want to tell me, to show me, how we got to the current state. You know, it’s like Bahya ibn Paquda says: it cannot be that the world exists, that the world is eternal, as Aristotle says. Why not? Because if the world were eternal, then how did we get to the stage we are in? Start at minus infinity and move rightward along the number line. You will never reach x = 0, right? Or t = 0—move forward on the timeline. Yes, start at minus infinity and move rightward, and you will never reach t = 0. Therefore Aristotle is wrong that the universe is infinite. That argument is not correct. It is not correct because he performed an operation here that is not legitimate—mathematically, logically, it is not legitimate. You cannot begin from minus infinity. There is no such thing as beginning from minus infinity. Because minus infinity is not a point. There is no point called minus infinity from which one can begin. Therefore, when you offer an explanation for something, an explanation has to begin from the first point, move to the second, to the third, until the thing explained—the current situation. And you have to begin from minus infinity and proceed. You will not succeed in presenting a complete explanation to me in that way. And because of that, don’t presume to say that you have presented an explanation here. You can say, I have no explanation. You can say, there is an explanation and I don’t know it. But that is a declaration. It is not an alternative to the explanation I offer: that there is a God and He created the world and no one created Him. If your alternative is an infinite regress of a causal chain, that is not an alternative. And that alternative is not an explanation. When you offer an explanation, you cannot talk about an explanation with infinitely many stages. When you want to prove some property by induction, you can prove it for infinitely many numbers, I have no problem with that at all, because I am not an intuitionist. There is no problem proving that. But explanation is something else—that is exactly the point. Therefore, when philosophers say that infinite regress is a fallacy, this does not mean they cannot be mathematicians who use induction. There is no problem. When you use induction, you begin at one and go as far as whatever number you like. We call that going to infinity—you of course are not going to infinity, you’re going to whatever number you want. However large you want, I will get there after a finite number of steps. That is enough for me, because I begin at one and go toward infinity. But to begin at infinity and return to one—that is an undefined process. It is impossible; there is no such thing as beginning at infinity. Therefore I think this is a good intuition for why infinite regress is a fallacy. I’ll explain it more, I’ll continue explaining it more next time, but for our purposes here, that is the story. There are physicists who think this. I remember even Hawking or someone saying there are infinitely many worlds in time, not in space. Yes, the fact that physicists think something doesn’t mean it’s true, and certainly Hawking, who was an international speculator. But regardless, I’m saying again: I’m even willing to accept that as a physicist; I have no problem with it. But they cannot say they started from minus infinity and claim that this is an explanation for the existence of our world. They can say there were infinitely many worlds before, or that there were… what does “there were infinitely many” mean? That number is misleading. The number of worlds is greater than any number you can conceive. You don’t say “there were”—that’s exactly the point—it’s potential infinity and not concrete infinity. But in order to offer an explanation you need concrete infinity. You need to present that whole infinity before my eyes in order to show me that there is an explanation. To start from the very first world there was, and move through time to us. But there was no such first world. It’s impossible to start from it. Therefore I say: going backward is possible. Going forward is impossible. But in order to offer an explanation, you need to go forward, not backward. Okay, we’ll stop here. Does anyone still want to comment or ask something? When we were in Bnei Akiva and we’d go on a hike and get tired, we’d do what we called a “final sitting.” We’d bend a little, and each person would sit on the knees of the next. Right, so… One on one and one on one and—if you close it into a circle—exactly, in a circle! And then it solves the problem of where the last one sits. That’s Einstein’s distinction in relativity between unbounded and infinite. A circle is unbounded but not infinite; it has finite length. But that reminds me that a circular explanation is also, of course, not an explanation, because a circular explanation anchors the existence of our world in our world itself. Yes, and perhaps infinite regress or circular explanation are the only two options there are, and both are not explanations. Because as someone once said: if there were no God, we would have to invent Him. Meaning that in some sense, yes, human beings invented the—human beings invented God. So it’s good that He exists; we don’t need to invent Him. Fine, we’re still undecided. Okay, all right. So we’ll see each other again. Sabbath peace. Sabbath peace, Sabbath peace. Yes. Is the cosmological premise a proof, or is it a probability? I don’t know how to distinguish between those two things. Every proof is based on premises, and regarding premises you have to decide what the probability of each premise is in your eyes—that’s probability, that’s plausibility. And that’s always how it is. Only arguments that aren’t based on premises, like ontological arguments—assuming there is such a thing—can be exempt from that. But there are no ontological arguments; I hope we saw that clearly enough in the previous talks. Therefore it is obvious that in the end everything depends on the question of how plausible the premises seem to you. There is no one hundred percent certainty about anything. Yes, right, on that there is no argument. So maybe that—maybe that is the only thing that is certain: that nothing is certain. Okay, so goodbye, Sabbath peace. Goodbye, Sabbath peace.