Erik Wielenberg sent me the following excerpt from a book in progress. I post it with his permission. The footnotes are not included and the formatting has been altered slightly. I have done some editing and have added hyperlinks. I have bolded two passages I find crucial. I make a comment on Wielenberg's excerpt in the Comments Area.
In the Introduction I reported the observation that since the time of Hume, “the vast majority of philosophical attacks against the rationality of theism have borne an unmistakable Humean aroma.” Hume’s aroma became particularly pungent with the release of Richard Dawkins’ book The God Delusion in 2006. One of Dawkins’ more well-known remarks is that “Darwin made it possible to be an intellectually fulfilled atheist.” In the same paragraph in which he makes that remark, Dawkins credits Hume with effectively criticizing the logic of the design argument, but suggests that Hume’s writings nevertheless would likely leave the atheist feeling “unsatisfied”; it was only the publication of Darwin’s Origin of Species some eighty-three years after Hume’s death that put the atheist at ease. It is somewhat ironic, therefore, that the central atheistic argument of The God Delusion is remarkably similar to an argument advanced by Philo in Hume’s Dialogues.
Dawkins’ argument begins with the idea that God is supposed to provide a certain kind of explanation for various features of the universe that are very unlikely to have come into existence all at once entirely by chance. More precisely, God is supposed to provide an intelligent design explanation for such complex phenomena, where x provides an intelligent design explanation for y just in case y’s existence can be understood in terms of intentional activity on the part of x. To take a simple example at hand: I provide an intelligent design explanation for the existence of the book you hold in your hands in that the words that make up the book were intentionally written by me. Unlike the features of the universe that God is supposed to explain, however, God Himself is not explained by anything external to Himself. Thus, God is the ultimate explanation of all complex natural phenomena and has no explanation outside Himself. Dawkins argues that these two features imply that it is extremely improbable that God exists. A crucial premise of the argument is that “[h]owever statistically improbable the entity you seek to explain by invoking a designer, the designer himself has got to be at least as improbable.” This is so because God must contain at least as much complexity as the thing God is supposed to explain, yet God is not explained by anything external to Himself. This seems to imply that God came into existence all at once entirely by chance. But given God’s required complexity, this is very unlikely, and hence it is very unlikely that God exists at all. Dawkins puts it this way: “God tries to have his free lunch and be it too.” The argument can be formulated as follows:
Dawkins’ Ultimate Boeing 747 Gambit
1. If God exists, then God has these two properties: (i) He provides an intelligent design explanation for all natural, complex phenomena in the universe and (ii) He has no explanation external to Himself.
2. Anything that provides an intelligent design explanation for the natural, complex phenomena in the universe is at least as complex as such phenomena.
3. So: If God exists, then God has these two properties: (i) He is at least as complex as the natural, complex phenomena in the universe and (ii) He has no explanation external to Himself. (from 1 and 2)
4. It is very improbable that there exists something that (i) is at least as complex as the natural, complex phenomena in the universe and (ii) has no explanation external to itself.
5. Therefore, it is very improbable that God exists. (from 3 and 4)
The second premise is substantive and crucial, and Dawkins insists on it repeatedly:
Seen clearly, intelligent design will turn out to be a redoubling of the problem. Once again, this is because the designer himself . . . immediately raises the problem of his own origin. Any entity capable of intelligently designing something as improbable as a Dutchman’s Pipe (or a universe) would have to be even more improbable than a Dutchman’s Pipe. Far from terminating the vicious regress, God aggravates it with a vengeance.
In part IV of Hume’s Dialogues, Philo argues that “there is no ground to suppose a plan of the world to be formed in the Divine Mind, consisting of distinct ideas, differently arranged, in the same manner as an architect forms in his head the plan of a house which he intends to execute” because “a mental world or universe of ideas requires a cause as much as does a material world or universe of objects; and, if similar in its arrangement, must require a similar cause.” Like Dawkins, Philo maintains that an intelligent designer of the universe stands in need of explanation at least as much as the universe itself.
How convincing is Dawkins’ argument? A good way to think about this question is to think about how a theist might resist the argument. One reply a theist might make is that Dawkins has overlooked an important difference between God and natural complex phenomena: Natural phenomena are contingent things (they exist but could fail to exist) whereas God exists necessarily (He exists and it is impossible for Him not to exist). If God is a necessary being, then He did not come into existence all at once entirely by chance because He did not come into existence at all. Thus, contra premise (4) above, the fact that a given thing is complex and lacks an explanation external to itself does not imply that the existence of the thing in question is improbable. Premise (4) does not hold in the case of things that exist necessarily; hence, it does not hold in the case of God.
Dawkins does not consider this objection, but he could turn to Hume for assistance in responding to it if he so desired. In part IX of the Dialogues, Cleanthes poses this question: “[W]hy may not the material universe be the necessarily existent Being”? The relevance of this remark to the present objection to Dawkins’ argument is as follows: If the idea of necessarily existing complex entities makes sense, why not suppose that the natural complex phenomena themselves exist necessarily and hence need no explanation? This proposal undercuts the argument from design by eliminating the need to posit a designer in order to explain the complex phenomena in the universe in the first place. One obvious problem with this proposal is that we observe natural complex phenomena being created and destroyed all the time, which apparently indicates that their existence is contingent. But Cleanthes’ proposal can avoid this difficulty if we think of the universe as a four-dimensional structure and suppose that it is this entire structure that exists necessarily. So, while it is true that complex natural phenomena come into existence and go out of existence, it is also true that all of this happens necessarily. In support of this proposal, Cleanthes points out that “[w]e dare not affirm that we know all the qualities of matter; and, for aught we can determine, it may contain some qualities which, were they known, would make its non-existence appears as great a contradiction as that twice two is five.” Of course, we can conceive of the 4-D structure being different than it is, or not existing at all – but we can also conceive of there being no God, so the theist who believes in a necessarily existing God can hardly maintain that conceivability is a reliable guide to possibility. If this is the case, then it is hard to see what basis there is for admitting the possibility of a necessarily existing complex God while denying the possibility of a necessarily existing complex 4-D universe. The upshot is that the notion of a complex but necessarily existent God has implications the theist is unlikely to find acceptable.
Dawkins might also look to Thomas Aquinas (a surprising ally!) to refute the possibility of a complex, necessarily existing God. Aquinas claims that complexity in God is incompatible with God having no explanation external to Himself on the grounds that “every composite has a cause, for things in themselves different cannot unite unless something causes them to unite.” God cannot consist of multiple parts, physical or otherwise, because if He did, some external explanation would be required to account for the fact that God’s various parts are united in a single being.
Aquinas’ remarks lead naturally to a more interesting objection to Dawkins’ 747 Gambit, one that draws on the doctrine of divine simplicity. Aquinas maintains the “absolute simplicity” of God, and he explicates this concept as follows:
[T]here is neither composition of quantitative parts in God, since He is not a body; nor composition of form and matter; nor does His nature differ from His suppositum; nor His essence from His existence; neither is there in Him composition of genus and difference, nor of subject and accident. Therefore, it is clear that God is nowise composite, but is altogether simple.
Aquinas lists various possible kinds of complexity here and says that God lacks each of them. Unpacking the various kinds of complexity involved would require a substantial detour through Thomistic (and Aristotelian) metaphysics. Fortunately, we can avoid this detour by noting that various remarks Dawkins makes suggest that when he speaks of complexity, he primarily has in mind the possession of logically distinct parts. For instance, Dawkins quotes with approval Keith Ward’s rejection of the Thomistic doctrine that God is simple “in the sense that what is true of any part of God is true of the whole.” Dawkins agrees with Ward’s alternative proposal that if God existed, He might be “indivisible” but would also be “internally complex.” Thus, Dawkins’ position seems to be that any God that could explain the complex natural phenomena in our universe would have to have multiple parts. The simplicity objection, as construed by Dawkins, denies this. According to the objection, the God that ultimately explains all the natural complex phenomena in our universe not only exists necessarily but has no logically distinct parts. The target of this objection is the second premise of Dawkins’ argument above:
2. Anything that provides an intelligent design explanation for the natural, complex phenomena in the universe is at least as complex as such phenomena.
Dawkins’ main response to this objection seems to be simply to insist on the truth of the second premise: “A God capable of consciously monitoring and controlling the individual status of every particle in the universe cannot be simple.” And: “God may not have a brain made of neurons, or a CPU made of silicon, but if he has the powers attributed to him he must have something far more elaborately and non-randomly constructed than the largest brain or the largest computer we know.”
Although Dawkins appears not to offer much of an argument for this premise, it might be supported by an appeal to experience. In our experience, an intelligent designer of a thing is always at least as complex as that thing. For instance, I contain at least as much complexity as this book does. Hume, through Cleanthes, draws on experience to argue against the doctrine of divine simplicity by arguing that it conflicts with the view that God has (or is) a mind. Cleanthes says:
A mind whose acts and sentiments and ideas are not distinct and successive, one that is wholly simple and totally immutable, 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.
Even if Cleanthes’ remarks do not establish the impossibility of a perfectly simple mind, they drive home the otherness of such a mind. The doctrine of divine simplicity threatens to lead to the conclusion that God’s mind is an alien mind, radically different from any human mind.
Dawkins seeks to show that what he calls “the God Hypothesis” is extremely improbable. Many of Dawkins’ critics have pointed out that he construes the God Hypothesis in a way that is at odds with much traditional western theology. For instance, Thomas Nagel says this in his review of The God Delusion:
If the [design] argument is supposed to show that a supremely adept and intelligent natural being, with a super-body and a super-brain, is responsible for the design and the creation of life on earth, then of course this “explanation” is no advance on the phenomenon to be explained. . . . The explanation of his existence as a chance concatenation of atoms is not a possibility for which we must find an alternative, because that is not what anybody means by God.
The implied point here is correct: Dawkins’ argument is most effective against the hypothesis that God is a contingent, complex physical being that is the ultimate explanation for all the natural complex phenomena in the universe – but no clear-thinking Christian believes that hypothesis! However, it seems to me that Dawkins’ argument retains some force despite this point. It retains force in that the theist can evade Dawkins’ reasoning only by accepting the doctrine of divine simplicity, and accepting such a doctrine forces the theist to accept a rather mysterious ultimate explanation of the universe. Immediately after the passage just quoted, Nagel continues:
If the God hypothesis makes sense at all, it offers a different kind of explanation from those of physical science: purpose or intention of a mind without a body, capable nevertheless of creating and forming the entire physical world.
The doctrine of divine simplicity implies that the immensely creative Mind in question is not only disembodied, but also devoid of logically distinguishable parts. But there appears to be tension between the God Who Explains and the God Who is Simple. Traditional monotheism identifies these two Gods. On the one hand, God is supposed to render intelligible the nature and existence of the universe. For instance, we have seen that [C. S.]Lewis maintains that God provides an intelligible explanation for certain elements of human nature. On the other hand, God is said to be transcendent, mysterious, Other. But the more mysterious God is, the less He constitutes an intelligible explanation for anything. Explanations shed light; mysteries are shrouded in darkness.
Hume emphasizes this tension in the Dialogues by presenting two theistic characters (Cleanthes and Demea). One of these characters emphasizes God as an explanation for the physical universe; the other emphasizes God’s transcendent, mysterious nature. It is no accident that the two characters, though they are both theists, are on opposite sides of essentially every substantial issue that arises in the Dialogues. Perhaps this is Hume’s way of highlighting the tension between the God Who Explains and the God Who is Simple. While Dawkins’ argument fails to establish its intended conclusion that the existence of the God of traditional monotheism is improbable, the 747 Gambit at least gestures vaguely in the direction of a more interesting argument. The upshot of this other argument is nicely captured by Cleanthes’ rhetorical question to Demea early in part IV of Hume’s Dialogues: “[H]ow do you mystics, who maintain the absolute incomprehensibility of the Deity, differ from skeptics or atheists, who assert that the first cause of all is unknown and unintelligible?” Dawkins may have failed to establish the improbability of God as the ultimate explanation of the universe, but his argument serves (at least indirectly) to bring to our attention the obscurity of this proposed explanation.

This is an impressive piece of work. Thank you for sending it to me. I found most interesting your claim that "the theist can evade Dawkins’ reasoning only by accepting the doctrine of divine simplicity . . . ." Now I myself have argued in support of divine simplicity (DS). My Stanford Encyclopedia article on the topic is here. But I wonder whether it is true that the ONLY way to turn aside Dawkin's argument is by the rather drastic move of accepting DS.
As I read Dawkins, his complaint is that invoking a complex God leaves unexplained organized complexity as such so that nothing is accomplished, explanatorily speaking, by bringing God into the picture. You quote Dawkins as saying that "intelligent design" will "turn out to be a redoubling of the problem."
It seems one could counter Dawkins by questioning the assumption that organized complexity as such is what needs explaining. As I wrote here:
If this is right, then one would not have to reach for a simple God to counter Dawkins -- a complex God would do.
Another concern is whether the DS as understood by Aquinas excludes all complexity or only some kinds of complexity. It does exclude any real distinction between form and matter, act and potency, essence and existence, and individual and attribute. But it is not clear to me that there could not be a rich complexity of mental operations in a purely spiritual being whose ontological simplicity was equivalent to its not being subject to the above four distinctions.
Wielenberg goes on to say that "The doctrine of divine simplicity implies that the immensely creative Mind in question is not only disembodied, but also devoid of logically distinguishable parts." I have two questions about this.
1. What is so mysterious about a thing that lacks parts? Many philosophers (Descartes, Leibniz, E.J. Lowe, many others) have believed that minds or thinking things are simple in this sense. Yet they see no great mystery here. Some argument is needed. I understand that some theists have built into their doctrines of divine simplicity bizarre claims such as that God's omnipotence is his omniscience, etc.--that is, that God is simple not just with respect to parts but also with respect to attributes. But that sort of claim, which I admit is mysterious, should be distinguished from the claim that God is merely a partless being.
2. Can the theist successfully evade Dawkins' reasoning if he accepts that God is without parts, but also holds that God is extremely complex in terms of having a variety of attributes? (God's attributes would not be parts, so there is no conflict here.)
We need to clarify our use of 'part.' I take Erik to be using it in a very broad way to include logical and ontological parts. God has no spatial parts, and presumably no temporal parts either. (An eternal God has not temporal parts, for sure, and an everlasting God need not be construed as having temporal parts.) But on a constituent ontology, such as the ontology of Aquinas, attributes are ontological parts. Thus the attributes of Socrates are parts of him; they are not entities external to him to which he stands in an exemplification relation.
So what do you mean by 'part' and why do you contrast parts and attributes?
A part of a thing, as I use the term, is something into which the thing can be divided. Thus attributes are not parts. I cannot recall ever having heard a philosopher call a thing's attributes or properties its parts. Does Aquinas ever do this? I would be surprised to learn that he does.
I do not understand the distinction between logical and ontological parts.
If Erik is using 'part' in the rather broad way you suggest, then I agree with him that divine simplicity, understood as the doctrine that God has no parts, is mysterious and unintelligible.
About simplicity --
I'm thinking of simplicity as having no (proper) parts. I'm assuming what I think Bill calls a "non-constituent" or "relational" ontology. So, I'm inclined to think that properties (attributes) are not parts, so being partless wouldn't entail being devoid of properties (or being identical to one's properties).
About the mysteriousness of simplicity --
The point I'm trying to press here (which I think is Hume's point) is not so much that divine simplicity itself is unintelligible or incoherent, but rather that appealing to a simple God as the ultimate explanation of the physical universe doesn't do much in the way of explaining. I have an intuitive notion of an explanation of x as a story or account that sheds light on where x came from (or why x is the case, or exists). The appeal to a simple God doesn't seem to shed much light -- here's a crude attempt to support this claim: Typically in the case of intentional explanation, much of the explanation lies in what's going on inside the agent. But I wonder whether any such story can be told in the case of a simple (partless) agent. For instance, could a partless mind contain ideas? (That's not a rhetorical question, by the way).
As I write this, it occurs to me that a similar objection is sometimes raised against the theory of agent-causation as a solution to the problem of free will; people sometimes complain that agent-causation theories fail to shed any light on the matter because they simply assume the existence of a not-further-analyzable agent that has the capacity to act freely. (Interestingly, I've never found this objection to agent-causation particularly compelling myself...)
About the possibility of a complex God --
Bill said: "[I]f nothing can explain itself, and if organized complexity is to be explained, then some of the organized complexity must remain unexplained, that portion residing in the ultimate explainer." But doesn't this line of reasoning simply assume the falsity of this proposition:
All organized complexity is ultimately explained by a simple entity.
If so, then I'm not sure that the principle that nothing can explain itself implies "that one cannot reasonably demand that all organized complexity be explained."
Further, both Dawkins' and Hume's discussions arise in the context of design arguments. The notion that organized complexity needs explanation seems to be a driving force in (many versions of) such arguments; if this notion is abandoned, wouldn't these sorts of arguments lose their force?
But surely you have heard of bundle theories of ordinary particulars. On a bundle theory, a particular is a bundle of properties. Now there is a straightforward sense in which a bundle of Xs has Xs as its parts. So on a bundle theory, a particular has properties as parts, or ontological constituents, to use a fancy phrase.
Or consider a view like that of G. Bergmann according to which an ordinary particular has a bare particular as a constituent along with various universals as constituents. The bare particular and the universals are ontological parts of the ordinary particular.
And no doubt you are aware of trope theorists who hold that ordinary particulars are bundles of tropes. Tropes are properties. So there is a clear sense in which, for these theorists, properties are parts.
There are also trope theorists (C. B. Martin is one, and I think Peter Simons is another) who think of ordinary particulars as requiring a substratum. For these people, too, properties are parts.
So why do you have trouble with the idea of properties as parts? This is a familiar idea among constituent ontologists.
Aquinas is a constituent ontologist. Socrates' accidents are 'in' him, and so is his substantial form and his matter. Of course, I am not suggesting that this is wholly unproblematic; what I am saying is that it is not obviously mistaken or incoherent to think of properties as ontological parts of the things that have them.
If you assume what I call a 'nonconstituent' and what Wolterstorff calls a 'relation' ontology, then I think you consign divine simplicity to incoherence from the outset. It then becomes liable to the criticisms made in Plantinga's Does God Have a Nature? Aquinas was a constituent ontologist, and only within such a framework can sense be attached to divine simplicity.
You raise the question whether
1. Nothing can explain itself
entails
2. One cannot reasonably demand that all organized complexity be explained.
I think you are right that this entailment fails. For it might be that organized complexity is explainable by a simple entity. But if we add the premise
1.5 All explanation is in terms of a complex explainer
then the entailment seems to go through. Why can't the theist say to Dawkins: We reject as unreasonable your demand that organized complexity as such be explained. What can be explained is the organized complexity of the physical world, and we theists explain it in terms of a being, God, who though complex is non-physical.
As Nagel points out in his review, Dawkins seems stupidly (malevolently?) to assume that God for theists is a physical being. If that were the case, then his argument would have merit. For it is clear that one cannot explain organized physical complexity as such by positing a complex physical being as explanans. But what is the problem with explaining organized physical complexity in terms of a complex spiritual being?
I'll have to think some more about this tomorrow.
You are right about those who believe ordinary particulars are bundles of properties. I try not to pay attention to people who put forth such views, however.
If a person wants to say that properties are constituents of a thing, and that constituents are a kind of part, I will accept that for the sake of argument. But I don't see how adopting a constituent ontology helps with divine simplicity.
Do you object more generally to the very idea that ordinary particulars have ontological constituents? Do you hold that ordinary particulars are ontologically simple or ontologically partless?
How does constituent ontology help with DS? That's a long story, for separate posts.
I think ordinary particulars do have parts, and I'm happy to call these parts constituents. So I have nothing against the idea that ordinary particulars have constituents. (I don't know what work is being done by 'ontological' in the expression 'ontological constituents'. What would be a non-ontological constituent?)
No doubt ordinary particulars have parts; spatiotemporal particulars have spatial parts, for example. And since these parts have being, you could call them 'ontological' if you wanted to. But that is not what I mean by 'ontological.' Armstrong's thick particulars have thin particulars and immanent universals as ontological parts in my jargon. If you will, they are metaphysical as opposed to physical parts in addition to their physical parts.
Not wholly clear, but clear enough.
Dawkins argues that [1] God if he exists is the explanation of complexity and [2] God if he exists is complex. In answering this argument, the question is not how different metaphysicians understand complexity but rather what kind of complexity God is supposed to explain? Is God is complex in *that* sense?
I am inclined to think that here Dawkins commits the fallacy of equivocation. If one understands complexity in terms of ‘a being with attributes’ then the [1] seems to me to be false. The design argument is not invoked to explain *that* type of complexity. On the other hand, if one limits the denotation of ‘complexity’ to the types of things the argument is invoked to explain then God is not complex.
I doubt a Theist needs a very strong doctrine of simplicity to escape this argument. God needs only lack the type of complexity that the design arguments are supposed to explain.
Matt
2. Disallowing comments from a particular person, or deleting an offensive, off-topic, or otherwise substandard comment, has nothing to do with censorship. People who think otherwise confuse censorship with lack of sponsorship. I am under an obligation not to interfere with anyone's exercise of legitimate free speech rights. But I am not under any obligation to aid and abet anyone's exercise of free speech rights, legitimate or illegitimate.
3. The Comments area is not an open forum for anyone to say anything about any topic. As the name implies, it is primarily for commenting on the author(s)' posts. But to comment on them, one must have read them. And if I have spent three hours on a post, a reader will not understand it in thirty seconds. Secondarily, the Comments area is to facilitate civil discussion between and among commenters as long as the discussion remains on-topic.
4. Some undesirables: The skimmers, those who cannot read but only read-in. The sophists who, abusing argument, argue for the sake of argument. The ideologues, those who are out for power, not truth. The uncivil. The illogical. The politically correct. Worst of all, perhaps, are those who exemplify the anti-Socratic property: those who think they know what they don't know. If Socrates was famous for his learned ignorance, these types are marked by their ignorant unlearnededness.