An interlude about a limitless entity

A few weeks ago I asserted that it's impossible to conceptualize an entity that's both all-powerful and all-beneficent without diluting the meaning of the terms. An old friend of mine, Josh, commented how he thinks it's indeed possible to reconcile such ideas. I replied—as it's my policy to respond to all readers' comments—that my full answer would entail a post of its own. This is that post.

The context of the conflict is that people encounter what seem to be moral conflicts. For example, there are situations when you can be kind or honest but not both. Furthermore, these situations are not rare but instead happen most if not all days. Driving a car seems to force the issue every minute. How can an all-powerful entity, who thus has the ability to make the universe anything it wishes, also be the morally best possible entity if it rigged the universe to impose such conflicts? Why force people to choose between the better of two imperfect choices?

I admit this is a delicate topic, with many centuries of thought on the matter yielding their own entire branch of philosophy, called theodicy—and I further admit I'm going to ignore the reams of complexity that those centuries have heaped upon the question and give what seems to me is the straightforward, sensible answer. After all, it's part of my trade as a software developer to determine when leaky complexity has been heaped upon a faulty design and to figure out what needs to be removed to make the thing work. And yes, sometimes that means throwing away some cherished code you wrote awhile back.

The simple answer to the all-powerful, all-beneficent question is that such a limitless entity poses a paradox. Josh proposed a moral hierarchy as a solution, where some traits rank higher than others, but this solves a different problem. It solves the problem of choosing between the better of two imperfect solutions. The perfect solution, though only conceptual and impossible to realize, is that you get to have your cake and eat it too. In the example of kindness or honesty but not both, supposing that one of the virtues ranks higher than the other—say, honesty over kindness—means only that by choosing to be honest and unkind you have selected the better of two, flawed choices. A hierarchy of moral values allows for an entity that is all-powerful and as-beneficent-as-possible or instead as-powerful-as-possible and all-beneficent, but not both. Either way, the meaning of the terms has been diluted.

Another proposed solution thought up a long time ago is that the universe is indeed the best possible universe and that these conflict situations aren't conflicts at all. Rather, the conflicts play out—or can play out—according to what's in our best interests. So, for example, choosing to be honest and unkind is even better than if we could somehow be both honest and kind. Perhaps it's through the act of committing evil—or lesser good—that we gain some maximal good, such as spiritual fulfillment.

Yet another proposed solution to the problem is that the entity chose to give humans freewill—somehow, the best of possible choices it could have made—and because we're neither all-powerful nor all-beneficent, our choices require the universe to impose moral conflicts upon us. Yet another proposal asserts that these matters are entirely beyond our comprehension, that such a limitless entity is possible but we'll never know how.

These three solutions all reduce to: It cannot be known. Why is it good for us to make imperfect choices? It cannot be known. What is freewill? Why is the universe better off having it than not? It cannot be known. Why can't we know? It cannot be known.

What does all-powerful mean? It cannot be known.

What does all-beneficent mean? It cannot be known.

What does it mean to dilute the meaning of a term? To say: It cannot be known.

The easy way out of this mess is to drop the claim that one can both conceptualize a limitless entity and not dilute the terms all-powerful and all-beneficent. After all, diluting the terms' meanings says nothing about the entity's existence—only our ability to make falsifiable claims about it.

For what it's worth, this analysis makes me more appreciative of religions that embrace mysticism.