Alvin Plantinga Saves Your Soul

or De Cautelis et Malis Artibus

Plantinga is a charlatan who treats us to a spectacle where, by using logic alone, he can prove the existence of a non-material soul. Is this intellectual fraud? You bet your life! He thinks he has found a new trick where, by juggling fancy symbols, he can draw the most absurd conclusions, a faggoty flim flam that dishonors both mathematics and the memory of Descartes whose sincerity in these matters could border on the agonizing. The symbols in fact are just fancy new duds for that old Dark Ages QED that, as Bacon observed, amounted to “juggling feats, which though we know not how they are done, yet we know well it is not as it seemeth to be.” (The Advancement of Learning, p. 226)

The chapter in question starts out with an apparently harmless intuition. Plantinga informs us he “is inclined to think” that Socrates could have been an alligator as long as the alligator that was Socrates was smart enough (Plantinga later adds that it must also be possible for alligators to be immaterial at which point the intuition is not so harmless). To support his harmless intuition, or perhaps just to show that he is one hip dude, Plantinga observes that we find the strange events in Kafka’s Metamorphosis intelligible and so they must be possible. (I’m not sure whether they are so intelligible. Imagine a story where Gregor Samsa wakes up as prime number and he enters into all sorts of conflicts with non-primes and square roots. Written correctly, that should be intelligible in a way. Cf. Abbott’s Flatland) But wait a minute. This harmless observation contains a deadly caveat. The alligator must be a smart alligator. Dumb alligators need not apply. (Probably the caveat needs to be much stronger than that. If the alligator was smart like a son of a gun but knew no Attic Greek or claimed he was Isaac Newton, then I for one would be “inclined to think” that it is highly unlikely that that alligator could possibly be Socrates.) Well, where do we draw the line between non-Socrates alligators and the alligator whose SAT scores put him in the might-just-be-Socrates category? And what do we look for, how do we investigate and (to use an intentionally loaded term) how do we verify that some alligator has the right stuff? Presumably we would run a battery of tests, check his knowledge of Greek and ask him questions about Alcibiades. Would the laws of logic, even modal logic help us in our research? Not a lot. We would have to add all sorts of junk axioms like:

Junk Axiom 1: If there is some alligator, a, such that a speaks Greek, then it is possible that a is Socrates.

Note that we can’t use uninterpreted symbols for the predicates “alligator” and “speaks Greek” and the proper name “Socrates.” Otherwise Junk Axiom 1 would be useless in our research.

So how do we decide whether there is some possible state of affairs where we will find lurking an alligator that is really Socrates? No easy task particularly given the prejudice against dumb alligators. Perhaps biology would help (“An empirical science?” sniffs the phony modal logician. “Dude, it’s what we got.”) A mind as smart as Socrates’ and a voice as characteristic as his needs, according to the best science we have available, a brain, a nervous system and mouth structured to a certain high level of complexity so that he could show Socrates-like behavior, such as engaging in debates with Gorgias and other formidable opponents. The way to find out would be to catch our possible-Socrates-alligator and dissect him or at least run a highly sophisticated CAT scan. If we find not an alligator brain but a human one, we would be inclined to conclude that our possible-Socrates-alligator was not an alligator at all but a human with some really funny skin (Whether an exoskeleton and other alligator-like traits are biologically compatible with a human brain would remain an unanswered question, but our research at this point at least has some direction. It has freed itself from empty logic.)

So the possibility that somewhere out there Socrates is a really smart alligator could be said to obtain under one of two alternative sets of conditions (though there may be others): (1) The structure of the alligator’s brain etc. were in fact what we would recognize as a human structure in our world; or else (2) The possible state of affairs where the smart alligator that was Socrates was such that the smart alligator retained an alligator brain etc. but where alligator biology could produce the sort of complex behavior characteristic of Attic Greek philosophers. If not, the proposition that Socrates could be an alligator is no more intelligible than my utterance that at this time and place there is a horned prime number in the next room. That is, it is no more intelligible than a non-modal proposition that results from stringing together words without any explanation of what they mean.

What would happen if we dropped the caveat that the alligator be smart? In the first place, the result would be possible states of affairs where anything in this world could be anything else: ((x)(y) ¬(x=y) → ◊(x=y)), where “x” and “y” range over particulars in this world, “→” stands for “If…then…,” and “◊” stands for “It is possible.” Even Plantinga wouldn’t like that since it would admit possible worlds where the laws of logic in this world do not obtain. Drawing back a bit from that apocalyptic scenario, we would not be inclined to identify a dumb alligator with Socrates in some possible state of affairs unless something motivated us to do us to do so. Perhaps there are people in that state of affairs who would assure us, “Oh yeah, that’s Socrates. Just pay me $20 and I’ll let you pet him.” In such a case we would need to embark on another empirical quest, perhaps based on some science of behavior or perhaps just based on simple detective work. But the point is we are forced out of the realm of the logical, even the broadly logical, to make sense of the situation. And what if we dropped the requirement that we have some motive for identifying the dumb alligator with Socrates? Well, then we’re back in Apocalypse where for any thing in this world there is some state of affairs where, for every other thing in this world, the first thing is identical with that other thing. Everything is true. Let’s have lunch.

It is supposed to be one of the values of interpretations of axiomatic systems based on theories like model theories and truth theories that they are supposed to give us some idea of the disposition of things by sketching out their structure. We can take our clue about the structure of things from the structure of our reasoning. Thus, “If snow is white, then snow is white,” mirrors “If ‘Snow is white is true,’ then ‘Snow is white is true’”. Or, as Wittgenstein (who is kind the dictator in these matters) says, “The fact that the elements of a picture are related to one another in a determinate way represents that things are related to one another in the same way” (Tractatus, 2.15). However, truth theory and mathematical models by themselves do not tell us whether the proposition (or its formal equivalent), “If snow is white then snow is colored,” is true. To reach that conclusion we would need:

Junk Axiom 2: All things are such that if they are white then they are colored.

Or, to quote Wittgenstein again, “The substance of the world can only determine a form, and not any material properties….In a manner of speaking objects are colorless” (Tractatus 2.0231-2.0232)

A Plantingian might offer that the use of possible worlds models is why we don’t have to dirty our hands with empirical facts when entertaining the logical possibility of Socrates’ being an alligator. That possibility merely reflects a kind of logical structure. “Socrates might have been an alligator” does not violate any logical laws so it is true and its truth reflects something about the world. Of course, Plantinga himself is not his own epigone, at least not in this sense. He cuts himself loose from axiomatic systems on the very first page of The Nature of Necessity (pp. 1-2). And on p. 34 he also seems to cut loose from any semantic interpretation of modal statements as well. Possible worlds are not models for Plantinga in the strict mathematical sense. They are, rather, a sort of metaphor, a way of dramatically picturing how things that are not might be.

Indeed, it is not clear that “Socrates might have been an alligator” does not violate a logical law. The state of affairs where Socrates is a smart alligator is not fully or at least adequately described. If it were to be adequately described we might find some aspect of that state of affairs that did violate a logical law (Perhaps, “All alligators are not alligators.”) We don’t know, but we cannot exclude that “Socrates might have been an alligator” violates a logical law without an adequate description of the state of affairs where “Socrates is an alligator” is true.

If we return to this world, “Socrates is an alligator” does not violate a logical law (by which I mean an axiom of the propositional or predicate calculus. It could violate some Aristotelian category system, but that very possibility is part of Plantinga’s Dark Ages problem. He mixes real logic, and I use the term advisedly, with scholastic mumbo jumbo) because it is not in a form that could violate a logical law. It is of the form “For some x, x is F” where “x” ranges over particulars and “F” over properties, or simply “p” where “p” ranges over propositions. One might call this a singular proposition. Unless the proposition is articulated there is no logical law for it to violate. Consider the proposition “Socrates is a prime number.” That proposition does not violate a logical law either. It too is a singular proposition. We need to look outside of the axioms of a logical calculus in order to conclude that the sort of thing that “Socrates” might stand for and the sort of thing that “prime number” might stand for are conceptually incompatible. Axiomatic systems, even those of the quantified modal logic, have nothing to say about whether these things are compatible or not. They are in fact incompatible, but the point is that formal logical axioms and the models that mirror the structures of axiomatic systems do nothing on their own to inform us about the truth or falsehood of singular propositions such as “Socrates could be a prime number.”

Axiomatic systems and their models do not get down to the dirty existential details. They are both analogous to an architect’s blueprint. Rather, the model might be said to be equivalent to the blueprint and the formal structure to a verbal description of the blueprint. The blueprint itself probably doesn’t tell us whether the façade is made of marble or granite (If it includes an informative note the note may be wrong while the blueprint still accurately mirrors the structure of the building.) As we noted, the equivalence of “ ‘Snow is white’ is true” and “Snow is white” does not actually tell us whether snow is white. In the same way, the logical validity of the following proposition (If it is logically valid): “ ‘Socrates could be an alligator’ is true if and only if there is a possible world where Socrates is an alligator,” does not tell us whether in fact Socrates could be an alligator.

Having established Socrates’ could-be-alligatorhood to his satisfaction, Plantinga gets down to the real action of liberating the ghost from the machine. He writes that, while he considers Descartes’ argument to be true, he doesn’t care to defend it at that point – a smart move since not a single one of Descartes’ objectors, including a couple of doctes théologiens, bought a word of it.

At most, Plantinga opines, Descartes’ argument establishes that (where “” stands for “Necessarily:” and where “Socrates” is a proper name):

(1) (Socrates has a body.)

is not true. So, (where “◊” stands for “Possibly:”)

(1a) ◊⌐(Socrates has a body.)

is true.

Descartes can fend for himself (or cannot as the case may be). Let’s look at Plantinga’s reasons. His argument comes down to interpreting “Socrates could be a ghost” (where “be a ghost” means the same thing as “does not have a body”) as “There is some possible world where Socrates is a ghost.” Here are a couple of objections:

Objection 1: Without further explanation, the idea of Socrates not having a body doesn’t mean anything. Does it mean that Socrates would be a voice in thin air? Would he be a cloud-like substance sitting on a throne next to the Big Fella? Would he be a sort of flash of light as in a Disney animation? If a disembodied Socrates is without meaning, a world inhabited by a disembodied Socrates is also without meaning. It is empty word play that Hobbes would have snarled at. I might as well say, “Socrates is a JubJub.” In any event Plantinga has some ‘splainin’ to do.

Objection 2: Plantinga’s use of “necessary/possible,” and accordingly his use of “essential/contingent” (“Essential” is the de re version of “necessary,” a de dicto property of propositions – “Ah, Fadder O’Boyle is usin’ the lingo latino again and when he speaks in tongues, you know it’s de Holy Fadder hisself that’s talkin’to us!”), is circular. Now when they are used for the purposes that truth theory and models were devised, the circularity accusation is invalid. Extensional definitions of truth place propositions and states of affairs in correspondence to each other, by convention if you will, because the mathematician is interested in whether, for a given axiomatic system, the theorems of that system, mirror true propositions in the language of the system. Unarticulated propositions like a “Snow is white” are not decidable by the models for logical systems, nor should they be. Likewise, “Socrates is essentially a material object” is not decidable by a model for a modal logic, nor should it be. In Plantinga’s case, however, the definition of “Socrates is essentially (necessarily) a material object” to mean “There is no possible world where Socrates is not a material object” is viciously circular. It defines “necessary” in terms of its complement “possible.” It says nothing. It is an empty definition. Plantinga simply underlines the circularity of his definition by divorcing himself from possible worlds semantics. Separated from their purpose as a logical tool, possible worlds are just a highly colorful metaphor in this case saying nothing.

But Plantinga is not satisfied with his limited version of Descartes’ proof. He wants to prove that there is no material body to which he or Socrates is identical. In other words he wants to prove:

(2) Socrates is a ghost.

Which he phrases as:

(2a) I am a ghost.

Plantinga’s argument is that if you replace his body, even gradually piece by piece, at some point he would have a completely different body but he would still be himself. Therefore it is possible that he is not identical to his body at time, t. So by the Indiscernibility of Identicals Plantinga is not identical to his body. Man, that logic! You can prove just about anything! But now we have a whole new set of problems:

Objection 3: “I” is not defined. Index terms are messy. And since I’m pretty certain that I’m not a ghost and I have haven’t the foggiest what it would mean for me to be a ghost, let’s substitute a proper name for “I.” “Plantinga” will do. Now does “Plantinga” mean all the atoms composing Plantinga’s body? Clearly Plantinga doesn’t think so. Does “Plantinga” mean a set of memories, conscious and subconscious, dispositions to behave in a certain way and a life history? Does it mean some internal Selbstbewusstsein crying out, “Here I am, world!”? Maybe there are other alternatives. The point is that, as long as we don’t have an adequate definition of what “Plantinga” means, we don’t know what it means for there to be the same Plantinga after he has changed bodies. If the new body isn’t Plantinga, then Plantinga may very well be identical to his body (viz. the old body) and still obey the law of the Indiscernibility of Identicals.

Let’s turn away from Leibniz (or pseudo-Leibniz) and apply Domingo’s Law of Obfuscation Through the Unconsidered Use of Logical Symbols. In other words, put down your Fitch and think about our (admittedly somewhat fantastical) world. Plantinga says we could completely replace his body and he would still be Plantinga. In other words, it is possible that we replace every atom of Plantinga’s current body with a complete set of substitute atoms from Mary Tudor’s body and he would still be Plantinga. (We would have to resurrect Mary Tudor but resurrection shouldn’t be problem for Plantinga; on the other hand, the resulting man/woman combination would certainly stir up trouble from Donald Wildmon.) “Possible” sounds so forgiving here that Plantinga’s claim appears to be uncontroversial (“Anything is possible in this wonderful country of ours!”). The objection at this stage, however, is not about “possible”; it is about what it means to be Plantinga. So what would it mean for this Mary Tudor-like individual to be Plantinga? Our guess was that he/she would respond to the name “Plantinga” and would answer satisfactorily a battery of questions about the good old days at UCLA. In other words, he/she would satisfy some set of criteria based on external behavior. Or else, he/she could assure us that he/she was really Plantinga. This would satisfy some sort of personal testimony criterion. The Selbstbewusstsein criterion could only be satisfied to Plantinga’s own satisfaction. The point is we really don’t know (Virgnia Woolf probably knew. Cf. Orlando). Even if the female Plantinga passed all the behavioral criteria we still would not be entirely inclined to say he/she was identical to the old Plantinga and not just a Plantinga Doppelgänger. His/her wife, of course, would be in fits. Things get messier if this new individual were occasionally and unexpectedly to cry out, “Off with their heads!” or “I think I’m pregnant.” Or what if he/she started to wonder in the middle of the night whether he/she was really Plantinga or just maybe Mary Tudor. Or else he/she might begin to entertain vivid memories of Henry VIII alongside his/her memories of UCLA.

Let’s think of another situation. Let’s say Bill Gates managed to capture Plantinga and copy everything about his memories, dispositions, self-awareness etc. to a new ambulatory computer. The computer passes the same battery of tests that Mary Tudor did and in addition writes some really thoughtful books about Selbsbewusstsein that could very well have been penned by Descartes or Husserl. Which one is Plantinga? The biological residue or the shiny new computer? His wife would probably be filing for divorce at this stage.

Objection 4: We cannot tell whether two things are really indiscernible without a complete description of all the properties of both things. This is why none of the examples above appear to violate the Indiscernibility of Identicals no matter what our opinion of the situation of the situation may be, for we simply don't have enough information. No object is different, i.e. discernible, from itself (if indeed Indiscernibility of Identicals is a valid logical law), but for any two proposed objects, a and a₁, probably the only case where we can tell that a = a₁ is where the properties of both are exhaustively specified by definition. (This is not to make a logical issue into an empirical issue. Rather, the axioms of modal logic do not sufficiently specify the meaning of non-modal terms such that conclusions of this sort can be drawn from modal systems and their models alone). Otherwise the following obtains: If Plantinga and Mary Tudor/Plantinga are really indiscernible, then they are identical. If, on the other hand, they are not identical, then in some respect which we may not be aware of they are not indiscernible. The material body argument could apply to any property possessed by an individual in the actual world. It is possible, for example, that Plantinga might have a different soul. That is, there is a world where Plantinga has a different soul. Therefore Plantinga is not identical to his soul, etc. In fact, the only "essential "property" that Plantinga can produce is self-identity. So he is really arguing for the following principle:

Principle 1: An object, a, has a soul if and only if a=a.

Now aside from the fact that Plantinga's buddies down by the river won't be none too happy with that definition of a soul (They want the flash of light and that cloudy feeling while tippling the corn likker with St. Peter), this principle attributes souls to all objects including bits of moon rock, a consequence that could only please an extreme Goethean.

Moving on. Having once again proved to his satisfaction that the person is not identical to the soul, Plantinga unveils his proof that persons are necessarily not material. I don’t know what possible world he got these proofs from but it is definitely not the world of rational argument. His argument runs as follows:

(3) Plantinga is not identical to his body.

If (3) is true, then it is a necessary truth since, if Plantinga and his body are not identical, then there is no possible world where “Plantinga” and “Plantinga’s body” name the same thing. So,

(3a) It is necessarily the case that Plantinga is not identical to his body,

which (according to Plantinga) is equivalent to,

(3b) Plantinga is necessarily (essentially) not (his) body.

Since, for any body in the actual world it is possible that Plantinga is not identical to that body,

(3c) Plantinga is necessarily (essentially) not any body.

(4) Therefore Plantinga is not a material object.

(4) doesn’t actually follow from (3). For even though for some object, a, and for all objects, b, that have a certain property, F (such as being material), it is necessarily the case that a is not identical to b, it does not follow that it is not the case that necessarily a is F ("a is always F" might be a more cautious if non modal formulation, or else "a is unavoidably F" or "a is F to the extent that we can understand what you're talking about"). The material object that is identical to a in some possible world may not, for example, "exist" in the actual world. Think of Gates’ computer or the idea of a structured nervous system. “Plantinga is not identical to material body, b” does not imply that it is not the case that for every world, W, there is some material body, b₁, such that Plantinga is identical to b₁ in W. It may be the case that b₁ is instantiated in W but not in the real world, i.e. it is not an actual but a "possible" object (if you don't like possible objects, think of the elementary particles of the real world as rearranged in W such that in W a is identical to a set of those particles although there is no object in the real world that can be identified with that particular set of particles in W). For any world, W_1, a would be identical to b₁in W_1,and so "a is identical to b₁ in W₁" would be necessarily true. What if there are no possible material objects to which a is identical? I don't know whether that's the case. Formal semantics for modal logics won't help us here, and neither will "applied" (or "bullshit semantics" as we like to call them down on the farm), at least not without a lot of midnight tinkering. It is strong enough that it be possible that in any world where a is instantiated there be some material object in that world that is identical to a. If you want to restrict possible material objects such that it is not possible that, in any world where a is instantiated, a is identical to a material object in that world, you would have to justify placing such a restriction on "broadly logical possibility." But couldn't it be the case that there are worlds where a is instantiated but there are no material objects, not even possible material objects, that are identical to a? Again I don't know. The point is, this cannot even be called a "broadly logical" possibility unless we know what it means for something to exist and not to be a material object (or a number, assuming there are such things as numbers or some other meaningful alternative to being a material object). Otherwise, all you're saying is, "Things could be different."

Let’s move on. Plantinga seems to try to disprove what I just said by quoting G.H. Von Wright. He concludes,

(5) Therefore it is necessarily the case that Plantinga is a not material object.

In other words,

(6) Plantinga could not possibly be a material object.

That is, there is no world where Plantinga is a material object. To arrive at (5) and (6) Plantinga invokes a principle that if an object, a, is necessarily F (where “F” ranges over properties), then there is no world where a is not necessarily F. In other words, there is no world where a is possibly not F (in this case, possibly material). This principle is shaky on the face of things since it doesn’t hold for certain disjunctive properties. But Plantinga says it’s OK for “natural “ properties. (What the hell is a “natural” property?) In fact, this principle, if it holds at all, appears to hold only for identity (and so for transworld identity, assuming there is such a thing as transworld identity and assuming that identity is really a property). The property of being a material object (whatever that means) and its complement do not appear to involve transworld identity. They do not, that is, unless you think that “being a material object” means the same thing as “being identical to some particular body,” which is not the same as "being identical to itself." But if that’s the case then all properties (or their complements) would be “essential” because any property, F, could be construed as "identical some something that is F." Therefore, if it is possible that some object, a , is not F, then, by Plantinga's argument, a is necessrily not F. Suppose, for example, Plantinga in some world different the actual world one day fell and hit his head on the way to his first philosophy class. Suddenly what could have been the smart Plantinga suddenly becomes the stupid Plantinga. Now by (3),

(7) Plantinga is not identical to the smart Plantinga,

is true.

However, if (4) follows from (3), then by application of the above principle,

(8) Plantinga is not smart,

and,

(9) Plantinga could not possibly be smart,

would both be true. This is so because you can construe any property as being identical to an object that has that property. Another way of putting it is that the complement of any negative property would necessarily obtain for any object. Plantinga would necessarily be not-smart, not-bearded, not-spiritual, not-God-fearing etc. But by the same token Plantinga would necessarily be not not-bearded, not not-spiritual, non not-God-fearing an so on. In fact Plantinga would necessarily not be anything and and any two contradictory propositions would both be true and both false. Identity is the only "property" saved from this dire fate. In fact the only thing what Plantinga is really saying is: "Things are what they are. But the world could be different." But since everything is true and everything is false in Plantinga's universe, he is not really saying anything.

I think it is interesting and worth further discussion that many of my examples are not couched in terms of possible worlds but in terms of different moments in time in this world. There is a complex relation between the logic of necessity and the logical structure of time.

Do Plantinga’s comments in a later chapter (Ch VI, pp. 88 ff.) about transworld identity have any bearing on all this? He says, namely, that possible worlds are not things you look at through a telescope like other planets. Rather, they are just a convenient way of phrasing things when we say “It is possible that…” So we really don’t need to single out and interrogate the alligator Socrates in another world (He doesn’t have to be “empirically manifest”). It’s just that if it were possible that Socrates were an alligator, then there is a possible world where Socrates exists and Socrates is an alligator. (“Exists” here seems to mean, “talked about by Plantinga.”) So things exist in possible worlds even though practically anything we can say about them is wrong. Looked at this way the immortality of the soul argument runs:

a) Socrates could be an alligator.

b) We don’t need to find or describe a Socrates alligator on any possible world.

c) Therefore Socrates is a ghost.

Now dassa spicy Meat Ball!

The answer is: No, Plantinga’s views on transworld identity don’t really help. In the first place they contradict his other view that the alligator Socrates must be a smart alligator. But remember, if we drop all qualifications on the alligator Socrates, then we end up with everything being everything else in some world, and any one of those worlds might just be impossible. Secondly, exactly the same reasoning can prove that Socrates is not a soul, since I for one find a world where, for example, Socrates keeps his own body but has someone else’s soul – say the soul of Casper the friendly ghost – and remains Socrates, completely possible. Finally, we can throw out a sentence that appears to embody a comprehensible possibility and so appear to be making sense. But does our sentence really make sense? What about the possibility that Socrates could not have a single one of his properties except his “essential” properties (which comes down to no more than self-identity)? Does this really make sense? Are we entitled to be understood when we say we are still denoting something in that case with our proper name, or are we just playing with words? The non-modal sentence, “The unguent chair in Zambia is Socrates,” makes just as much sense. Plantinga pretends to be talking plain common sense when he refers to possible worlds telescopes. But a possible world where there is a Socrates only because Plantinga says so is not the product of common sense. It’s just that old time religion, that Dark Ages gobbledygook come back to haunt us.

So Plantinga’s revision of Descartes’ proof that people are not bodies fails.

Part of the problem is that Plantinga uses words with all the precision of a real estate agent closing in on a sale. For him the entire issue is whether a soul is or is not a material object. Now your average boring philosopher would at this point feel some small need to define what he means by “material object” (He should also define “soul” for that matter. Let us pass over in silence what Plantinga means by “exist,” variations of which he throws around like a drunken sailor. Let’s save that for his “proof” of the existence of Godot). But Plantinga is above such tedious peasant work. Try as you can there is not the slightest hint in his discussion as to what a material object might be. Don’t look to Descartes for help since he doesn’t even use the term. Descartes uses “body (corps)” which, given the state of science at his time (which he was partly responsible for establishing), he defines with a great deal of precision. So even a passing glance at Plantinga’s redargutions raises problems. Are light waves material objects? Is gravity a material object? Is the structure of Socrates’ nervous system a material object? (Some would say “the structure of Socrates’ nervous system” is a convenient shorthand for certain highly complex molecules arranged in such a way that certain information-bearing energy transfers take place between them.) So with truly breathtaking carelessness Plantinga trots out the term “material object” and a few cool logical symbols he learned as a graduate student and wields these tools like a rusty Capetian battle axe to hack our poor defenseless universe into so many undefined Albigensian body parts.

You can probably count the number of educated people who believe in the existence of the soul on the fingers of one hand. The Plantinga situation, however, points to a more widespread tendency for logically oriented philosophers to throw a few symbols in a pot, take care of a couple of counter-examples and, Voilà!, they’ve proved all sorts of sexy things that in the bad old days you actually had to think about. For it is as true now as it was in Descartes’ and Bacon’s day that the laws of logic tell us little if anything about the internal content of singular propositions. Logic does tell us how to string these propositions together to reach conclusions and it may give thereby some clue about the structure of the world. Otherwise religion and philosophy receive an “extreme prejudice” “by being commixed together; as that which undoubtedly will make an heretical religion, and an imaginary and fabulous philosophy.” (The Advancement of Learning, p. 192).

Meanwhile, if you want a logical law, here’s one for you:

Domingo’s Lemma: If it smells, cook it first.

Note 1: In Chapter VI The Nature of Necessity Plantinga argues that what he calls the Theory of Worldbound Individuals entails that

(N1) Socrates is foolish

is necessarily false. It is somewhat ironic that Plantinga's argument for Socrates' soul entails that

(N2) Socrates is smart

is necessarily false.

Note 2: In Chapter VII of The Nature of Necessity Plantinga chidingly observes that various semantics, pure and applied, of modal logic do not provide a means of deciding the metaphysical issue of whether there are possible instantiations of simple predicates such as "...has two cunts." No kidding. In the same way the semantics of first order logic does not provide a means of deciding whether, "Anais has two cunts" is true or not. Hobbes had a term for those Dark Ages Scholastics who tried to use logical structures alone to draw substantive conclusions about the world, but decency prevents us from repeating it here.

Note 3: Plantinga probably never read Locke, but he would have done well to consult the chapter in An Essay Concerning Human Understanding about personal identity where Locke exposes the concepts that would have to be explained by anyone who wants to prove that an immaterial soul exists (much less understand what an immaterial soul may be). Certainly modal deductive systems, and above all not the kind of "logic" that Plantinga fabricates, do not contain contain the conceptual apparatus to provide such an explanation. And they never will until someone provides an initial intuitive explanation that can become part of an axiomatic deductive system

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