Universalism and Our Lady of Fatima

The following argument (which is inspired by a comment that Peter Kreeft made in this interview with Matt Fradd) strikes me as sound:

1. The Blessed Virgin would not instruct anyone to pray for something impossible.
2. The Blessed Virgin instructed the children of Fatima to pray that Christ will "lead all souls to heaven."
3. Therefore, it is possible that Christ will lead all souls to heaven.

One could take this on its own as an argument for the possibility of universalism, against those who believe that Catholics are committed to at least some persons being damned. This would be significant enough on its own; however, I believe we can go further. Consider:

1. If it is possible for all to be saved, then all shall in fact be saved.
2. It is possible that all be saved.
3. Therefore, all shall in fact be saved.

The idea here is that defenses of infernalism typically depend on the assumption that God cannot save everyone (e.g. because the damned freely choose to reject him, and one must freely choose salvation). But if it is possible for Christ to lead all souls to heaven, then things become much harder for the infernalist. They would now have to argue that Christ could save all, but (for one reason or another) he simply won't. And this is clearly preposterous.

An Argument Against Immigration Restrictions

Let's begin with a story: Tom and Edward are coworkers at the local grocery store. One day, Tom learns that Edward is an illegal immigrant, and that he therefore has a legal responsibility to report Edward to the relevant authorities. (Suppose that Tom and Edward live in a jurisdiction which imposes a mandatory reporting requirement with respect to illegal immigration.) Tom happens to know that Edward is not involved in any criminal activity, aside from his violations of immigration law. What should Tom do?

It seems entirely obvious to me that Tom should not report Edward. (Furthermore, I suspect that most people, were they in Tom's shoes, would not report Edward.) We can now make a brief argument against immigration restrictions:

1. If immigration restrictions are just, then Tom should report Edward.
2. Tom should not report Edward.
3. Therefore, immigration restrictions are not just (i.e. they are unjust).

Motivating (1): It seems clear that if restrictions on immigration are just, then laws requiring citizens to report illegal immigrants are just. After all, nobody thinks that it is unjust to have laws requiring people to report known thieves or murderers. The reason for this is obvious: the laws prohibiting these actions are just, and so it is perfectly fine to require citizens to assist in their enforcement. Since we generally have a duty to obey just laws, it follows that if immigration restrictions are just, then ordinary citizens have a moral duty to report illegal immigrants.

Premise (2) is motivated by intuitions about the aforementioned story. The conclusion (3) follows.

The Kuzari and Resurrection Arguments

Jewish apologists commonly employ what has come to be known as the "Kuzari argument," which purports to show that the Jewish people really did receive a public revelation from God at Mount Sinai. Philosopher Tyron Goldschmidt formulates the crucial principle underlying this argument like so:

The Kuzari Principle: A tradition is true if it is (1) accepted by a nation; and describes (2) a national experience of a previous generation of that nation; and (3) the national experience would be expected to create a continuous national memory until the tradition is in place.

Note that the Sinai story appears to meet all three of these criteria: it was historically accepted by the Jewish nation as a whole, it describes a national experience of a previous generation of Jews, and it is such that, if it happened, one would expect the story to have been passed down (indeed, Goldschmidt notes that Exodus 13:3-10 explicitly commands Jews to "tell your son" about how God freed their people from Egypt). Hence, as philosopher Samuel Lebens argues, "The Kuzari Principle, especially given an antecedent commitment to theism, gives us prima facie evidence that such an event [i.e. the revelation at Sinai] likely occurred" (2020, 198).

On a similar note, Christian apologists commonly appeal to the resurrection argument for the truth of Christianity. The basic argument is simple: it is historically probable that shortly after Jesus' death, (1) his body went missing from his tomb, and (2) multiple people independently claimed to see him alive, including the apostle Paul, a former enemy and persecutor of the Christians. (The first of these data points is highly probable, while the second is as certain as a historical claim can be.) The best explanation of these facts is that God raised Jesus from the dead. The most thorough defense of this argument by an analytic philosopher of religion is that of Swinburne (2003). The relevant historical facts are scrutinized by Allison (2021).

Now, here is something noteworthy: both the Sinai revelation and the resurrection of Jesus stand at the very root of their respective revelatory traditions. The entire body of Jewish scripture and religious literature derives its legitimacy from the experience of Sinai, while the entire body of uniquely Christian scripture and religious literature derives its legitimacy from the resurrection of Jesus. Of course, Christians believe that both the Jewish scriptures (the Old Testament) and the uniquely Christian ones (the New Testament) are genuine revelations.

Now, if Christianity is not true, then it is highly surprising that the foundational events of both portions of the Christian scriptures can be defended by plausible historical arguments. Nothing similar can be said for any other religion (save Judaism itself): there is no comparably good historical case for the miracles of the Buddha, or for the divine inspiration of the Quran. I conclude that we have here a very strong argument for the truth of Christianity.

(A possible objection: Why take this argument to support Christianity over Judaism? After all, the Kuzari is principally an argument for the latter. Response: Christianity wins out over Judaism because the former has two good arguments where the latter has one. The Kuzari counts in favor of both religions, since they both accept the revelation at Sinai. The resurrection, however, is exclusively an argument for Christianity.)

Protestantism and the Suitability of the Reformers

Here's a brief and plausibly sound argument:

1. If Protestantism is true, then the reformers (e.g. Luther and Calvin) were specially selected by God to renew his church.
2. The reformers were not specially selected by God to renew his church.
3. Therefore, Protestantism is not true.

(Note: By "Protestantism," I do not simply mean "anything other than Catholicism and Orthodoxy"; I mean adherence to the traditional solae of the Reformation, such as sola fide, sola gratia, and sola scriptura.) 

Premise (1) seems obviously true: if the Protestant Reformation really was what Protestants claim it was, then it must be the case that God specially raised up the reformers in order to effect the restoration of the apostolic faith.

Premise (2) is motivated by the obvious moral and doctrinal faults of the reformers. Luther tolerated polygamy by Christians, doubted the canonicity of various New Testament books, and (most serious by far) openly called for the persecution and murder of Jews. John Calvin was a minor tyrant, who played an important role in the execution of Michael Servetus for heresy. These actions and beliefs simply do not reflect what we would expect to see from men specially raised up by God.

One might object that God frequently uses sinners to achieve his purposes. Moses was a murderer, while St. Paul persecuted Christians and approved of St. Stephen's being stoned. But the difference is that these men engaged in these sinful actions before their calling, and there is evidence of their having subsequently changed their ways. Indeed, St. Paul's letters are filled with self-condemnations and proclamations of remorse concerning his former behavior. By contrast, the reformers' awful statements and actions took place after they had made their break with the Catholic Church, thus beginning the Reformation. So we would have to assume that these men, having already been raised up by God, were continuing to make serious moral and theological errors. That seems implausible.

One could also point out that many Catholic authorities have done horrible things. After all, if we are going to condemn Calvin for the execution of Servetus, should we not also condemn the Catholic Church for the killing of many thousands of heretics? The difference here is that the conduct of Luther and Calvin strikes at the root of the Reformation: these were the men who, if Protestantism is true, were selected by God to be his instruments of restoration. The Catholic authorities who persecuted heretics simply do not play as important a role in Catholic history as the reformers do in Protestant history.

In brief, I find it simply impossible to believe that the reformers were what Protestantism requires them to have been. This seems like a serious objection to Protestantism itself.

Thoughts on Utilitarianism and Interpersonal Trust

There seems to be a deep intuitive connection between morality and interpersonal trust: if you knew somebody to be morally perfect, then you would trust them to keep their promises, not steal your possessions, not harm or kill you in your sleep, etc. But note that if utilitarianism is true, then this connection breaks down: there may be enumerable situations in which promise-breaking, theft, or even physical violence (up to and including murder) could serve to maximize utility. So if utilitarianism is correct, then you cannot necessarily trust the morally perfect person not to do these things. This is deeply unintuitive: one should not need to "sleep with one eye open" around a morally perfect person.

Here's another way of thinking about this: suppose Joe finds himself stranded with a group of strangers on a desert island. If Joe finds out that these people are morally perfect, should he feel more safe, or less safe? If utilitarianism is true, then the answer is far from clear: after all, total utility might be maximized by their killing and eating Joe, or even by their exploiting him for pleasure (assuming their group is large enough for the total utility generated by their pleasure to outweigh his suffering). It would be more in Joe's interest for the group to be made up entirely of radical deontologists. But if utilitarianism is right, then this is surely backwards: Joe should not be hoping that his fellow island-refugees are seriously mistaken about fundamental morality.

One might object that in the vast majority of cases, the aforementioned behaviors will not contribute to the maximization of utility. But this depends on highly contingent sociological facts: for example, whether or not murdering me in my sleep to take my organs would maximize utility depends on whether there are friends to mourn my death, police to apprehend my killer, and so on. These don't seem like the sort of considerations that ought to motivate a morally perfect person not to slit my throat.