Mysticism, Evil, and Cleanthes’ Dilemma

ABSTRACT: Though Hume’s Dialogues are discussed in relation to both the Logical and

Evidential Problems of Evil, scholars miss the fact that Hume’s Problem is presented not traditionally, but as a dilemma: Either we anthropomorphize the deity and accept the full force of the Problem of Evil, or we take the mystical route of removing all human analogy, thereby abandoning religion. The mystical route, while ultimately rejected, is much closer to the most philosophically tenable position of Hume’s “true religion”. This paper presents the dilemma, considering both anthropomorphism and mysticism before locating Hume’s true religion as falling importantly between the two.

David Hume’s Dialogues concerning Natural Religion is rightly touted as one of the most elegant presentations of both the Problem of Evil ever written. But often overlooked is the fact that Hume’s problematic takes the form of a dilemma, with the traditional Problems of Evil so construed representing only one horn. The other horn is the path of “mysticism” in the strict

Humean sense, a position that avoids the Problem of Evil by maintaining that God is wholly other, that God is good in a fashion that humans cannot fathom. Mysticism is not the denial of

God’s moral perfection defended by Philo’s positing of an indifferent deity. Nor is it an ad hoc theistic entrenchment meant to stave off the Problem of Evil at any cost. Instead, it must be understood as a natural consequence of Demea’s pious refusal to allow anthropomorphism. As we will see, mysticism is a position that Hume quite seriously.

This paper studies Hume’s relationship with mysticism. First, it recasts the Problem of

Evil as Hume intended, as part of the larger theistic dilemma of choosing between anthropomorphism and mysticism, polar opposites Hume develops in the Natural History . Once

1 this polarization is understood, we may locate Hume’s “genuine theism” as lying significantly between these two extremes.

I. Cleanthes’ Dilemma

In Part X of the Dialogues , Hume’s Philo 1 presents the Logical Problem of Evil before conceding that a solution is possible and moving on to the Evidential Problem in Part XI.

However, Philo does not abandon the Logical Problem as indefensible. Instead, the concession is made for dialectical purposes. Though “Nothing can shake the solidity of this reasoning…,”

Philo “will be contented to retire…from this entrenchment.” (D 10.34-35) And while Cleanthes

“can never force” Philo from the Logical Problem, the latter concedes the compatibility of God and evil as a dialectical expedient. But before Philo’s transitioning to the Evidential Problem, he first hints that an appeal to divine inscrutability could potentially accomplish what Cleanthes’ position never could and attain a solution to the Logical Problem. To complete Philo’s statement,

Nothing can shake the solidity of this reasoning, so short, so clear, so decisive; except we assert, that these subjects exceed all human capacity, and that our common measures of truth and falsehood are not applicable to them; a topic, which I have all along insisted on, but which you have, from the beginning, rejected with scorn and indignation. (D10.24)

Philo’s comments seem to imply that appealing to an unfathomable deity provides a legitimate strategy of escape from at least the Logical Problem,2 but that this solution is not available to

Cleanthes.

1 Though I argue elsewhere that Hume’s spokesperson is Philo throughout the Dialogues , this paper will also bring out the disagreements between the three personae relevant to this subject matter, and show that Philo’s position, at least in this matter, closely matches that offered by Hume in other works. As such, the paper will begin as interpretively neutral, instead focusing on where the characters agree. 2 The passage, as stated, sounds quite tongue in cheek and as such, it is tempting to dismiss as irony, an often employed but rarely discussed literary device in Hume’s works. And in a sense, this is right. The mystical approach should be dismissed in a certain way, but not as purely ironic. Instead, I will argue that neither Philo nor Hume is a

2 In Part XI, Cleanthes explicitly rejects this resolution, although he considers it to be

Demea’s route rather than Philo’s. Couching the proffered solution in terms of univocal rather than equivocal moral terminology, he states,

…these [terms] sufficiently fill the imagination of men; and anything beyond, besides that it leads into absurdities, has no influence on the affections or sentiments. Thus…if we abandon all human analogy, as seems your intention, Demea, I am afraid we abandon all religion, and retain no conception of the great object of our adoration. If we preserve human analogy, we must for ever find it impossible to reconcile any mixture of evil in the universe with infinite attributes; much less, can we ever prove the latter with the former. (D 11.1)

Here, Cleanthes recognizes the power of the Problem of Evil not as traditionally presented, but as an insoluble dilemma. If we “preserve human analogy” by assigning the deity anthropomorphized, univocal attributes, we must accept the full brunt of the Problem of Evil.

And Cleanthes’ pessimism here regarding the hopes of finding a viable solution is quite surprising. He so far as to say, “we must for ever find it impossible to reconcile any mixture of evil in the universe with infinite attributes.” This sentiment seems to agree with Philo’s claim that, absent a mystical approach, even the Logical Problem remains insoluble. It is also telling that, after presenting this dilemma to Demea, Cleanthes lets Philo’s further development of the

Problem run entirely unopposed, reading more like a soliloquy than a dialogue, further emphasizing Cleanthes’ lack of an adequate theistic response to evil. If the prospects for a viable solution are this abysmal, we have all the more reason to consider mysticism as a serious alternative worthy of consideration. But regarding this route, Cleanthes tells us that, “if we abandon human analogy…then we abandon all religion.” Hence, the Problem of Evil becomes

mystic of the sort described here. Nevertheless, it is a position that Philo takes serious precisely because it is a more philosophically satisfactory account than the route of anthropomorphism, against which Philo “triumphs” with the Problem of Evil. It is certainly a strength of the mystical route that it is better able to withstand the Problem. But as we shall see, its serious shortcomings lie in other areas. For a good discussion of Hume’s use of irony, see M.A. Box, The Suasive Art of David Hume , Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey, 1990.

3 part of a dilemma. Either we anthropomorphize the morality of the deity, thereby ultimately forcing us to abandon our belief in a morally perfect God in light of an insoluble Problem of

Evil, or we adopt the mystic’s strategy of denying human moral sentiment in the deity and thereby abandon religion.

But before we can recognize the full force of the dilemma, we must consider why the mystical route would abandon religion. The short answer is that, for Hume, a completely transcendent deity cannot be an object of the passions. In “The Sceptic,” he states,

…an abstract, invisible object, like that which natural religion alone presents to us, cannot long actuate the mind, or be of any moment in life. To render the passion of continuance, we must find some method of affecting the senses and the imagination, and must embrace some historical , as well as philosophical account of the divinity. Popular superstitions and observances are ever found to be of use in this particular. (ES 167, emphasis his)

A purely philosophical, “natural” account of religion gives, at best, an incredibly weak notion of the deity, a position Hume is committed to for at least two reasons: First, both Hume and Philo find it problematic to anthropomorphize the mental attributes of the deity, and doing so makes us

“guilty of the grossest and most narrow partiality” by making humans “the model of the whole universe.” (D 3.13) Human sentiments are known to us through experience and they are

“calculated for preserving [the human’s] existence,” but neither of these caveats applies to the sentiments of the deity. It is therefore “unreasonable to transfer such sentiments to a supreme existence,” (D 3.14) as the inference is blocked by our ignorance of the deity. Hume also affirms this in a 1740 letter to Francis Hutcheson. Since only experience allows us to infer familiar sentiments, he asks, “What experience have we with regards to superior beings? How can we ascribe to them any Sentiments at all?” (L1, letter 16) We therefore have an inferential problem in trying to ascribe human-like sentiments to the deity.

4 But there is a second inferential problem that arises from the drastic limitations that philosophy places on the analogical design argument. If we limit the designer analogy to what the phenomena support, we are left with a weak notion of the deity indeed. After drawing in the reins on the design argument by removing weak analogies, Philo concludes that we are only

“able, perhaps, to assert, or conjecture, that the universe, sometime, arose from something like design: But beyond that position, he cannot ascertain one single circumstance….” (D 5.12)

By paring down the conception of the deity, the philosophical, natural account alluded to in “The Sceptic” leaves us with a depiction that does little to stimulate the imagination. As

Hume maintains in the Treatise , “…the more general and universal any of our ideas are, the less influence they have upon the imagination.” (T 2.3.6.2; SBN 424-5) Because of the “close union” between the imagination and the affections, our ideas require vivacity in order to excite the passions. (T 2.3.6.2; SBN 424) Hence, without a vivacious, specific conception to excite the imagination, the philosophical conception of the deity is not a proper object of the passions. As

Hume explains in a 1743 letter to William Mure,

[The deity] is not the natural Object of any Passion or Affection. He is no Object either of the Senses or Imagination, & very little of the Understanding, without which it is impossible to excite any Affection….from this Circumstance of the Invisibility & Incomprehensibility of the Deity [a person] may feel no Affection towards him. (NL, Letter 6)

Because of the lifelessness of the conception of the deity to which our imaginations are limited, it does not rouse our passions. However, this seems to be the best depiction that philosophy can provide us in a “natural” account. Supplementing this depiction so as to become an object of the passions ultimately becomes the role of the “historical” account and of the “superstitions and observances” of religion. If the deity is to be an object of passions, it must have flesh put onto its

5 bones. This then is the role of religion, to provide the historical accounts and superstitions that make the deity an object of our imagination, thereby allowing it to affect our passions.

We are now in a better position to understand Cleanthes’ dilemma. If we take the mystical approach to escaping the Problem of Evil, we are left with a lifeless conception of the deity that may be philosophically defensible but that simply cannot be an object of our imaginations. In defending this conception, we will have necessarily denied the historical accounts and the various traditions of religion that serve to provide the anthropomorphized, relatable depiction of the deity that excites our imaginations and our passions, thereby allowing us to relate our passions to the deity, but that thereby ultimately takes the full brunt of the

Problem of Evil. To embrace mysticism as a solution to the Problem of Evil is to deny these historical accounts. But being unable to relate to the deity is not the only way in which the adoption of mysticism, for Hume, serves to abandon religion. In the Treatise , Hume argues at length that the passions ultimately determine action. This then implies that, without a passion directed toward some object, we will have no impetus to act. (T 2.3.3; SBN 413-8) Hence, because of its inability to serve as a proper object of the passions, the deity of mysticism simply cannot inspire us into action. Therefore, religion would lose not only its descriptive role but its normative role as well. It is because of these difficulties that embracing a mystical deity in order to escape from the Problem of Evil is, for Hume, to “abandon all religion.”

II. Polarization, Flux, and Reflux

In the Natural History of Religion ¸ Hume’s explicit task is to investigate religion’s foundations in human nature. But in doing so, he makes important distinctions between true and false religion. Briefly, false religions include the vulgar religions of superstition and enthusiasm, as well as the polytheistic religions, the latter of which he sometimes calls “idolatry.” As Hume

6 tells us in “Of Superstition and Enthusiasm,” false religion has pernicious consequences (ES 73), and comes about due to fear and ignorance rather than from any genuine pursuit of truth.

Superstition comes from “Weakness, fear, melancholy, together with ignorance,” (ES 74) and

Enthusiasm is born of “Hope, pride, presumption, a warm imagination, together with ignorance.”

(ES 74) We find similar sentiments in the Natural History about the genesis of polytheism:

“The first ideas of religion arose…from a concern with regard to the events of life, and from the incessant hopes and fears, which actuate the human mind,” (NHR 2.4) and similarly in the

Dialogues “…both fear and hope enter into religion: because both these passions, at different times, agitate the human mind, and each of these forms a species of divinity…” (D 12.29) These versions of religious belief are products of the passions, coming from the agitation of our natural

“hopes and fears.” But all three of these false religions are ultimately anthropomorphized conceptions, positing deities with human-like passions.

In contrast, Hume discusses true religion 3 in both the Dialogues and the Natural History .

He explicitly ties genuine theism to the design argument, claiming that “[t]he whole frame of nature bespeaks of an intelligent author” and that this realization is one of the “primary principles of genuine Theism.” (NHR Intro 1) In supporting genuine theism with philosophical argument, 4 Hume makes clear that this theistic belief is independent of tradition and does not advocate moral proscriptions. These are perversions wrought by superstition. (NHR 11.3)

Genuine theism has meaning to the “true philosopher” but that “the terrors of religion commonly prevail above its comforts” in the case of vulgar, false religion. (D 12.25) Hence, Philo venerates true religion in equal proportion to his abhorrence of false. (D 12.9) Further, both

3 Or sometimes “genuine theism,” “pure principles of theism,” etc. 4 This link to the design argument further supports my above equating of the “natural” account of religion from “The Sceptic” with belief born of philosophical argument.

7 Cleanthes and Philo agree that true religion has no pernicious consequences, but that it is much less common than its destructive counterparts. 5

True religion or genuine theism is thus the recognition of some impetus toward the design argument, and the recognition that this is as far as we should offer our assent . Unreasonable, passion-based additions to this attenuated deism 6 are what ultimately push true religion into false. In other words, Hume holds that false religion is born from mixing inappropriate passions with true religion. He repeatedly tells us that “the corruption of the best things produces the worst” and that superstition and enthusiasm “are the corruption of true religion,” (ES 73) and “in every religion, except the true, it is highly pernicious, and it has even a natural tendency to pervert the true, by infusing into it a strong mixture of superstition, folly, and delusion.” (HE3

135) Hence, Hume’s true religion is rare not because the impetus to accept its principles is rare but because the impetus to accept only its principles is rare.

Under this interpretation, despite the fact that “the order and frame of the universe, when accurately examined, affords us [a plausible design] argument,” the reason that this could not

“have an influence on mankind when they formed their first rude notions of religion,” (NHR 1.5) is because early mankind simply could not separate the corrupting passions from the idea of design. In the Natural History , Hume discusses the positing of deities as the causes for various phenomena. He states, “Could men anatomize nature…they would find, that these causes are nothing but the particular fabric and structure of the minute parts of their own bodies and of external objects.” (NHR 3.1) But before man has any such knowledge of this regularity and structure, the experience of unusual phenomena such as eclipses, floods, and earthquakes would

5 However, they substantively disagree as to whether religion in general has overall pernicious consequences. Philo says that the phenomenon of religion does more harm than good while Cleanthes explicitly denies this. 6 For a good discussion of Hume’s attenuated deism, see J.C.A. Gaskin’s Hume’s Philosophy of Religion- Second Edition , Palgrave-MacMillan, 1988.

8 be much more likely to excite the passions and incline us to attach extra attributes to the deity

(such as anger), thereby corrupting any attempt at true religion. But as thinking has progressed, it has become possible, though not common, to resist this temptation and maintain a true, untainted religion.

So far, we have distinguished Hume’s true religion from false, but have not mapped mysticism onto this picture. Hume never explicitly calls mysticism a false religion (likely because it is in an important sense no religion at all) but instead places it as the opposite pole from these vulgar anthropomorphizations. When barbarous man sees a break in regularity that he does not understand, he assigns agency as his explanatory mechanism. But by focusing on the many apparent irregularities rather than higher level regularities, we arrive at a pantheon of conflicting personalities. These beings are at first only depicted as superior, but perfection is eventually arrived at by abstraction and by a fear of under-praising, as we dare not affirm any limitations in the powerful deities we praise. And it is via this route that man eventually arrives at his first conception of a monotheistic deity from its beginnings in idolatry. Hence, the first notions of a monotheistic god were derived not from reason but from fear and ignorance. But because its source is from the baser passions rather than reason, it is not a stable depiction, and we enter into the “Flux and Reflux” described in the Natural History .

Here, Hume describes man’s natural tendency to rise from idolatry to theism only to fall back into idolatry again. Through abstraction and exaggerated praise, we arrive at a deity that is wholly other, infinite in ways mere humans cannot fathom, etc. As Hume says,

Thus they proceed; till at last they arrive at infinity itself, beyond which there is no farther progress: And it is well, if, in striving to get father, and to represent a magnificent simplicity, they run not into inexplicable mystery, and destroy the intelligent nature of their deity, on which alone any rational worship or adoration can be founded. (NHR 6.5)

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As discussed, we cannot hold such a vague conception of the deity as a proper object of passions, and instead slip back into idolatry. This regression happens because, in order to remain an object of the passions, this mystical, wholly other conception of the deity must be supplemented with the positing of more limited, relatable beings, such as angelic intermediaries. “Such refined ideas, being somewhat disproportioned to the vulgar comprehension, remain not long in their original purity; but require to be supported by the notion of inferior mediators or subordinate agents, which interpose between mankind and their supreme deity.” (NHR 8.1) It is these intermediate beings that, “partaking in more of human nature,” ultimately capture the attention and praise of the masses. These beings are eventually praised to the point of godhood, creating another polytheistic pantheon, and the whole process repeats.

III. Hume’s True Religion

What I wish to argue is that true religion, for Hume, must lie importantly between the poles of vulgar anthropomorphism and full-blown mysticism. For Hume, both get something right, but neither can provide a sufficient conception of the deity. As discussed above, the Dialogues raise serious problems for an anthropomorphized deity. The most significant challenge is the Problem of Evil, but it is not the only one. Any depiction of a deity that is too human is ultimately a philosophically dissatisfactory account. 7

Given these considerations, we are now in a better position to understand why Philo seems genuinely sympathetic to the mystical solution to the Problem of Evil. In fact, for Hume, the mystical approach is a more philosophically tenable position than any standard, overly

7 As a final rejection of the anthropomorphized conception of the deity maintained by the historical account of religion, we also have Hume’s considerations against miracles in Section X in the first Enquiry . Hume thinks that these arguments serve to undercut any appeal to revealed theology as a source of support for an anthropomorphized deity. However, we may also extrapolate Hume’s conclusions by realizing that, if we are never in a position to believe that a miracle has occurred, then we are never in a position to think that the deity takes an active interest in the world by engaging in post-creation causal interaction, at least of the irregular sort that miracles would represent.

10 anthropomorphized historical account. After all, the main cost incurred by adopting a mystical deity is the jettisoning of religion, a cost that Hume would be all too happy to pay. At first blush, it may therefore seem that Hume’s true religion is, in fact, mystical in nature. It is on philosophically solid footing and, like Hume’s true religion, does not spawn pernicious, vulgar religions. But this cannot be the whole story, as the mystical conception is missing one vital component whose absence Hume simply cannot abide. This is revealed in the passage above, in which Hume tells us that the mystical conception will, “destroy the intelligent nature of their deity, on which alone any rational worship or adoration can be founded.” (NHR 6.5)

For Hume, true religion is supported by the genuine principles of theism, and must therefore attribute intelligence to the deity. 8 There are several reasons for this. First, a necessary condition of Hume’s true religion is “rational worship,” belief grounded in some form of rational justification rather than ignorance and the passions. 9 But for Hume, the only possible grounds for rational belief would be in light of some design argument. Not only does he make this claim explicitly, 10 but it is also implied by his total rejection of revealed theology, all ontological arguments, and all cosmological arguments. However, even after weakening the conception of

8 In context, it is clear that Hume’s notion of an “intelligent” deity includes not only what we would consider intelligence, but also what we would call agency or will. 9 Here, I set aside the contemporary debate focusing on whether Humean attenuated deism is grounded in rationality or instead has its foundations in some non-rational, doxastically appropriate faculty, such as natural belief. This paper intends to stay interpretively neutral on this debate, and I believe it can do so for the following reason: If we are to claim that Humean religious belief is in some way natural, this interpretation is only rendered textually plausible through something like the “irregular” arguments of Part III of the Dialogues , in which design strikes us as would sensation. Hence, the belief in design is supported in some non-inferential way. However, it would be moving far too quickly to claim that the design argument is unnecessary in this scenario. Hume simply puts too much justificatory weight on the argument in too many works for this to be the case. Rather, a better interpretation would be to say that the analogical design argument itself is weak, but not grossly so. Instead, our natural propensity to “see” design is sufficient to bolster our certitude in the inference so that we accept the conclusion nevertheless. Even assuming Humean doxastic naturalism, this interpretation fits the texts better than a naturalism in which the design argument plays no role whatsoever in our belief. But if this is correct, belief in a deity is “rational” in the sense that it is still arrived at by accepting an argument whose conclusion is sufficiently vivid for acceptance rather than as a mere product of the passions. But if this position is still a hard sell, we may alternatively just read “rational” as “not blatantly irrational” since Hume’s main concern in limning true religion is to distinguish it from false religion, which is indeed blatantly irrational for the reasons discussed above. 10 D 2.4-12, for instance.

11 the deity concluded by the design argument in light of Philo’s objections, we are still left with

“something like design.” But design requires intelligence and agency of some sort. Hence, in acknowledging the reasonability of even the weakest design argument, we still acknowledge an attribute that is wholly absent from the mystical depiction, a divine intelligence that vaguely resembles human agency in a non-equivocal way. Or, as Philo puts it, “that the cause or causes of order in the universe probably bear some remote analogy to human intelligence.” (D 12.33)

This may seem like a modest concession, but it is still one that the full-blown mystic cannot accept. In order for a design argument to be rational, that is, in order to uphold the genuine principles of theism required by true religion and thereby provide the natural, philosophical account discussed in “The Sceptic,” we must posit human-like agency.

But beyond the fact that a minimally anthropomorphized divine intellect is required for the rational justification of genuine religion, Hume holds that it is also necessary in order to have any religion at all. We have seen that mysticism jettisons a deity’s ability to be an object of the passions or to inspire actions. But appealing to unfathomable divine intelligence does something much worse. It makes religion indistinguishable from atheism. 11 In response to Demea’s defense of divine simplicity, Cleanthes claims,

those who maintain the perfect simplicity of the supreme Being…are complete mystics ….They are, in a word, atheists, without knowing it. For though it be allowed that the Deity possesses attributes, of which we have no comprehension; yet ought we never to ascribe to him any attributes, which are absolutely incompatible with that intelligent nature, essential to him. A mind, whose acts and sentiments and ideas are not distinct and successive…is a mind which has no thought, no reason, no will, no sentiment, no love, no hatred; or in a word, is no mind at all. (D 4.3, emphasis his)

11 We must be careful here. While “atheism” was often used as an appellation for any unorthodox religion through Hume’s time, Cleanthes’ comments make clear that Hume means something much stronger here, more in line with contemporary religious naturalism.

12 Notice that, while the mystic may assign many unfathomable attributes to the deity, it is the denial of a human-like “intelligent nature” with which Cleanthes takes exception, and it is this attribute which is described as “essential” to the deity. Here, Demea’s appeal is to a mystically simple divine mind that ultimately causes the problem, but even if the mystic does not take this specific route, the conclusion will be the same. Any depiction that utilizes a conception of wholly other intelligence invokes a mind that is not human in the relevant sense of possessing distinct and successive ideas, etc. and is therefore no mind at all. 12 This is because abstracting the mind from these human-like qualities is ultimately to remove reason and will.

Philo clarifies this point in Part XII by more clearly isolating the dispute between the theist and the atheist. Granting some potency to a version of the design argument, he claims that

“the existence of a Deity is plainly ascertained by reason,” but goes on to clarify that this deity is properly called “a mind or intelligence .” (D12.6, emphasis his) Hence, the design argument allows us to conclude a designing mind . But considerations of piety often have us go beyond this. Philo tells us that the more pious the theist, the greater the professed disanalogy between human and godly intellect. Hence, the theist exaggerates the disanalogy while the atheist instead ultimately “magnifies the analogy” between God and the operations of nature. But these two positions eventually run together, making the dispute purely verbal. (D12.7) Hence, amplifying the disanalogy between the human and divine intellects leads one to a position indistinguishable from atheism. 13 But significantly, the analogies and disanalogies to human intellect are a matter of degree , therefore allowing genuine theism to take a middle route. Too much humanity in the divine intellect leads religion to the problems discussed above, and too little leads to practical

12 Of course, Cleanthes also insists on including the human-like passions of love and hatred, and this is the source of an ongoing dispute between Cleanthes and Philo. However, they are not what do the philosophical work in this passage, and can easily be omitted to arrive at the same conclusion. 13 Ludwig Feuerbach, in his The Essence of Christianity , also argues that the denial of meaningful predicates in the conception of the deity is disguised atheism.

13 atheism and undermines the design argument. True religion avoids these extremes by positing only a remote analogy just sufficient for the acceptance of a weak design argument without leading to the problems of anthropomorphism, thus escaping between the horns of the dilemma.

IV. Conclusions

We have seen that a Humean account of true religion must fall somewhere between anthropomorphism and mysticism. If the possible conceptions of a deity lie on a spectrum between these two poles, then Hume is very much closer to that of full-blown mysticism than that of anthropomorphism, but he does not actually adopt the former position because of the important emphasis he puts on apparent design. This commitment forces him to posit something vaguely analogous to human agency. This is indeed a small concession, but still one that the mystic cannot make. Hence, by largely avoiding vulgar anthropomorphic attribution, Humean true religion circumvents many of the criticisms of an overly anthropomorphized deity presented in the Dialogues and in other works. Nevertheless, Hume’s true religion is not and cannot be a full-blown mysticism due to the necessary positing of agency. But while Hume is candid that a full-blown mysticism can potentially escape the Problem of Evil, it is far less clear that his almost-mysticism is in a similar position to do so. Hume assigns to his deity an agency somewhat analogous to a human’s, but agency has close ties to morality. Hence, it becomes difficult to defend a position that God’s agency regarding morality is wholly other whereas

God’s agency pertaining to creative acts is not. Hume’s Philo resolves this tension in positing a non-theistic, indifferent deity in Part XI, rather than a theistic agent whose moral agency is beyond our grasp. Hence, while the Problem of Evil is a dilemma for the theist, as she wishes to defend a morally perfect deity, Hume himself is not because he does not.

14 An important fact that the preceding considerations draws out is that the discussions in

Hume’s philosophy of religion are not always addressing the same conception of the deity. This is easily discoverable within certain passages of the Dialogues . Philo’s constraints on the analogy of the design argument discussed in Part V target the perfect deity of theism, as does the

Problem of Evil in Parts X and XI. However, the deity of the design argument that he concedes in Part XII is a significantly weaker conception of the deity. This is evident from the fact that

Philo has the essence of religion as maintaining “that the cause or causes of order in the universe probably bear some remote analogy to human intelligence,” (D 12.33) while Cleanthes supplements his version of true religion by adding that the deity is “perfectly good.” (D 12.24)

Hence morality mashes into Cleanthes’ true religion, ultimately leading to pernicious consequences, whereas Philo’s true religion, bereft of normative power, does not have these corrosive effects on morality. But not every discussion of the deity in Hume’s writings is as transparent as these cases, and I believe that much of the confusion surrounding Hume’s position pertaining to a deity stem from cobbling together Hume’s addressing of separate conceptions and treating them as if they all addressed the same god. Instead, by isolating Hume’s own true religion as between partially similar but ultimately different depictions of the deity, we can begin to clarify some of these notions.

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16 List of Works Cited

Hume, David . A Treatise of Human Nature . Oxford University Press, 2001. (T)

Hume, David . An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding , as reprinted in David Hume

Enquiries . L.A. Selby-Bigge, Third Edition, Clarendon Press, 2002. (EHU)

Hume, David . Dialogues concerning Natural Religion . In David Hume Dialogues and Natural

History of Religion . Oxford University Press, 1993. (D)

Hume, David . Essays: Moral, Political, and Literary . Edited by Eugene F Miller. Liberty

Fund Inc., 1987. (ES)

Hume, David . Natural History of Religion . as reprinted in A Dissertation on the Passions, The

Natural History of Religion , The Clarendon Edition of the Works of David Hume,

Oxford University Press, 2007. (NHR)

Hume, David . New Letters of David Hume . Edited by Raymond Klibansky and Ernest C.

Mossner. Oxford University Press, 1954. (NL)

Hume, David . The History of England . Liberty Classics, the Liberty Fund, 1983. (In six

volumes) (H1-6)

Hume, David . The Letters of David Hume . Edited by J. Y. T. Greig, Oxford University Press,

1932. (In two volumes) (L1-2)

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