In this rich, rigorous and invigorating book, Fiona Ellis subtly decommissions the concepts of ‘nature’ and ‘naturalism’ as weapons in the arsenal of her atheistic opponents. She subjects the concepts, and nature itself, to successive ‘expansions’ that lead by gradations to the accommodation within nature of objective moral values, God and eventually Christianity itself. She begins with the nature of the natural sciences, which has no place for values, let alone for God. But why, she asks, should the natural scientist have a monopoly on nature? So next she considers a duopoly, allowing the social scientist to account for values in terms of human desires. With less certainty, she rejects this position in turn, especially since no operation on actual human desires can decide whether we should exclude or include the desires of animals or those of as yet unborn humans, questions that are themselves of moral concern. Then she introduces McDowell who, with some support from Wiggins and a politically corrected Aristotle, contends that values inhabit an enchanted nature, a nature inaccessible to science and its methods, but not in conflict with it. Ellis favours this view, but does not rest contented with it. If nature can be enchanted with value, she asks, might it not also be divinely enchanted? God must satisfy our moral requirements if He is to be admitted to nature and must also not conflict with our scientific knowledge. He must not, like some ancient gods, pander to our egoistic desires or compete with scientifically accredited natural forces for the causation of natural events. He meets these requirements in the thought of Levinas, whom Ellis commendably recruits into debate with analytic moral philosophers. Levinas's God is an exclusively moral God, accessed by us only in our moral relations with others. He is therefore only a small step away from non-scientific objective values, and His admission to nature has a similar justification to theirs. But Ellis requires yet another step, taking us to the God of Christianity. This step is harder to take. This God needs to be acquitted of the charges levelled against Him by Levinas, for example, that the sacrifice of His son was intended to relieve us of all our sins and of our own moral responsibility. He is still deeply involved with morality, and Jesus is moral exemplar, encouraging us, though not compelling us, to moral improvement. We must, however, abandon our commitment to the historical details of His birth, life and death. This does not matter: Christ's ontological status is on a par with that of moral values; He is not a definite person within the world, but everywhere and eternal, like, say, the duty of charity. God Himself has a similar status. He has to be in the world, yet not just one thing among others. However, Ellis assigns to Him characteristics that go beyond morality. He is, in particular, the source of everything, not only of values, and without Him there would be nothing at all. Moral values do not, in her view, depend on the existence of creatures sensitive to them, though values were somewhat dormant before the arrival of such creatures, since morally-insensitive animals can hardly be morally blameworthy for what they do. (They may, however, be more sensitive to aesthetic values: a dog perhaps gains an experience from sniffing a lamppost that is comparable to our own when we enter an art gallery.) When humans enter the scene, beings with our interests, concerns and sensitivities, values are activated and everything changes. Despite this, however, God cannot have been dormant before our coming, since He is the source of ourselves, of values and of everything else. To accomplish this further and final expansion Ellis blends philosophy with theology, and also with mythology, for which she has more respect than most secular philosophers. Like Christ Himself, myths often have no location in time or space: we cannot say precisely when or where Pandora opened her box, but we know that she opened it.
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