‘Proslogion’: An Argument for God
On ‘Proslogion’, by Saint Anselm; 1099.
Proslogion (‘Dialogue’) is a 33-page prayer written by the monk Saint Anselm, who was Archbishop of Canterbury during the reign of William Rufus, son of the Conqueror. It contains within it one of the first versions of the ontological argument for the existence of God. The argument is so simple that at first blush it seems almost childish in its lack of sophistication. But it still sparks debate and vexes philosophers. If it is true that ideas age in reverse, then perhaps there is more to it than meets the eye.
I have put the argument into what I hope is more a lucid style English than Anselm’s. (His original premise is ‘God is that than which nothing greater can be conceived’, which is apt to cause more confusion than I think we need.) It runs as follows:
- By ‘God’, we mean a being so great that we can imagine nothing greater.
- What exists in reality is greater than what only exists in the mind.
- Even the non-believer can grasp the idea of ‘the greatest possible being’. So this being exists at least in the mind.
- But if this being only existed in the mind, then we could imagine something greater — namely, a being that existed in reality.
- So the greatest possible being—God—must exist in reality.
The argument is so simple that at first blush it seems almost childish in its lack of sophistication.
This seems a case par excellence of begging the question. That is to say that Anselm assumes what he sets out to prove. His starting point seems to be that God exists; he then proceeds to show that—God exists. So what is curious is that he does not even seem to be smuggling in that premise. Usually, when someone begs the question, he tends to sneak in some assumption. For example, ‘I know that ghosts exist, because I have seen one’ sounds plausible. Then we note that for such a claim to be true, we would have to assume that ghosts exist. How else would our friend know that what he saw was indeed a ghost?
If Anselm is question-begging, then he is hardly being very subtle about it. So perhaps he is not question-begging. Perhaps, as he himself claimed, he is not assuming that God exists, but attempting to set out what the concept of God means. If I were to define a triangle as a ‘three-sided figure’, I would not be assuming that triangles exist. I would be assuming that the idea of the triangle exists. And I would be spelling out what that would mean. By clarifying the idea, I can deduce other facts about it—for instance, that the sum of its interior angles is 180°. That is true whether or not anyone ever draws a triangle.
If Anselm is question-begging, then he is hardly being very subtle about it. So perhaps he is not question-begging.
So when Anselm writes that God is so great that we can imagine nothing greater, he is not assuming that God exists, but clarifying what the idea of God means if it is to make any sense at all. He is presupposing only that the concept of God exists. His argument is that in order for the idea to exist, God must in fact exist. Anselm thinks the idea is special, so special in fact that it is unique. For its very meaning must entail real existence. If God was only an idea, it would be a contradiction, and so it would not be God. In short, then: the very possibility of imagining God forces us to accept His reality.
This is why one response, by Anselm’s peer Gaunilo, does not work. Gaunilo argues, in effect, that Anselm is playing with words. For we could swap out ‘God’ for ‘perfect island’, and then prove the latter’s existence the same way. But, unlike God, an island is a bundle of qualities which can always be improved. We can always imagine sandier beaches, shadier palm trees, and stronger cocktails (my perfect island has a bar). God is not a ‘very, very good’ thing, but something which by definition cannot be any better.
Gaunilo argues, in effect, that Anselm is playing with words. For we could swap out ‘God’ for ‘perfect island’.
That did not persuade Gaunilo, and it has not persuaded everyone else. The point Aquinas makes, for instance, is that we cannot leap from concept to reality. Just because we can picture something in our heads does not mean that something is out there in the felt world. To say, ‘But our definition of God necessitates His existence’ is only to show the limits of language. Kant’s take, which is also persuasive, is that Anselm treats ‘existence’ as though it were a trait, like wisdom or power. But existence is not a trait. It does not add anything to the thing concerned, even if £1,000 in your bank account is better than an imaginary £1,000. So the suggestion that a being that exists in reality is greater than one that exists only in the mind is senseless. A pound coin is a pound coin: whether it is real or not does not change the fact that it is a pound coin. We cannot just define something into existence. We grasp the meaning of the words; but that does not mean the thing they name exists.
So in sum, and put as simply as possible, Anselm seems to be saying that anyone who accepts the definition of God as ‘a being so great we can dream up nothing greater’ is affirming (whether he knows it or not) the existence of God. If we accept the definition, we accept the reality. But of course, that does not mean God exists. That just means that given the definition is what it is, God’s existence follows. Anselm would say that this is not a flaw in his argument; for the concept did not arise as other concepts do: the very fact that we can form an idea of something unsurpassable points beyond our minds to reality. Concepts either mirror reality, as in ‘cat’, or reflect what we imagine, as in ‘dragon’; but to think this particular concept—‘God’—is to find it (or Him) already there, as it were, waiting for us. Or so Anselm thinks. So, we can perhaps put Anselm’s point more simply still: if God did not exist, we would not have this concept, ‘God’.
