Writing in 1714, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz asked: ‘Why is there something rather than nothing?’ Philosophers have long wondered why the Universe exists, but Leibniz is credited with framing the issue in precisely these terms. The question is head-spinning when properly considered. This very obvious fact about the world – that things exist – can shift from seeming mundane and trivial to very surprising, even downright weird. Ludwig Wittgenstein expressed this astonishment when he wrote in his Tractatus (1921): ‘Not how the world is, is the mystical, but that it is.’ Arthur Schopenhauer in 1818 called the question ‘an unfathomable and always disquieting riddle’. And the Rigveda, one of the world’s oldest surviving religious texts, suggests that even the ‘overseer’ (adhyakṣaḥ) of the cosmos might not know the answer. Sheer existence is baffling.
Philosophers continue to discuss the question today, but there isn’t any consensus about the answer. Some have suggested that it’s the sort of question that couldn’t possibly have an answer. In 1973, the German philosopher Carl Hempel wrote:
But what kind of an answer would be appropriate? What seems to be wanted is an explanatory account which does not assume the existence of something or other. But such an account, I would submit, is a logical impossibility … No theory, no conceptual scheme, can explain the existence of anything without assuming the existence of something.
His idea is that if you were trying to explain why, for instance, any penguins at all exist, then you couldn’t appeal to a penguin in your explanation – after all, that penguin is one of the things you are trying to explain. Similarly, if we’re looking for an explanation for why anything at all exists, then our explanation cannot appeal to an existing thing, since that existing thing is one of the things we are trying to explain. But Hempel thinks that there couldn’t possibly be any other sort of explanation for why anything exists, since any explanation for why something exists has to appeal to some other existing thing.
One response to Hempel’s concern is to go ahead and do what he claimed can’t possibly be done: offer an explanation for why there is something rather than nothing, an explanation that ‘does not assume the existence of something’. Many philosophers have attempted to do just that. But there is something wrong with these explanations.
Why might we expect there to be an explanation for why there is something rather than nothing in the first place? Leibniz thought there must be an explanation for why there is something rather than nothing because, as he put it, nothing would have been so much ‘simpler and easier’ than something. It is this thought that lies behind much of the astonishment people have expressed at the fact that there is something rather than nothing.
A world in which nothing exists is how we should expect the world to be if it takes what would, by our usual criteria, be its most probable state. What I have in mind here is Ockham’s Razor. Simpler accounts of the world are more likely to be correct than complex ones. For example, consider all the traits shared among the species alive today. Whales and humans have similar bone structures, despite the fact that they live in very different environments. One of Charles Darwin’s key insights was that, while it might conceivably have been true that a creator just happened to want these various species to have similar traits, despite their different environments and lifestyles, it is so much simpler to suppose that they share those traits because those traits are derived from a common ancestor. And the simplicity itself of that explanation gives us an excellent reason to think that the common traits are derived from a common ancestor. We constantly rely on the assumption that the simplest account of the world compatible with our evidence is most likely to be correct. This is something we do in science as well as in everyday life.
Many of the proposed explanations for why there is something rather than nothing that have been offered in the past do not address the apparent fact that nothing would have been so much ‘simpler and easier’ than something. The proposed explanations say that there is such-and-such a reason for why there is something rather than nothing, but they do nothing to address the thought that we should antecedently expect there to be nothing because, if there had been nothing, then reality would have been so much simpler.
There would have been a whole lot of non-ontological truths even if nothing had existed
What I’d like to do here is kill two birds with one stone: to offer an explanation for why there is something rather than nothing, which simultaneously dissolves the suspicion that nothing would have been so much simpler than something. This also happens to be, as far as I can tell, a new explanation for why there is something rather than nothing, and new explanations are hard to come by given the antiquity of the question.
I would like to start with the important insight that there are truths that are not truths about existing things. Since they are not truths about existing things, we’ll call them ‘non-ontological’ truths. Contrast these with ‘ontological’ truths – truths that are about existing things, like the truth that Earth orbits the Sun, or that there are more trees in the world than there are dogs. The observation that there are non-ontological truths is an insight expressed by other philosophers puzzled by the question of why there is something rather than nothing. For example, in a number of publications, the philosopher John Leslie has argued that there is something rather than nothing simply because it is good for there to be something rather than nothing. Setting aside whether this is a successful explanation, note that it appeals to a non-ontological truth: even if there was nothing, then there would have still been the truth that reality was less good than it could have been. And that does seem plausible.
Once we notice that there are non-ontological truths, we can see on reflection that there would have been a whole lot of them even if nothing had existed. Here are a few examples:
- Negative existential truths, ie, truths regarding that which does not exist. A possible world in which nothing exists would have to have lots of these truths! This doesn’t exist, that doesn’t exist, and so on.
- Truths regarding what is possible and impossible. Even if nothing existed, it would still be possible for dogs to exist, and impossible for square circles to exist.
- Truths of logic. Even if nothing existed, we would still have what logicians call modus ponens, the logical rule that says that, if A is true, and it’s also true that if A is true then B is true, then B is true.
- Mathematical truths. Even if nothing existed, it would still be true that 2+3=5. Regardless of the existence of numbers or any other mathematical objects, it would still be true that if you’ve got two things, and you add to them three things, you’ll end up with five things.
- Moral truths. Even if nothing existed, all sorts of actions would still be morally better or worse than other actions. Even though Ewoks don’t exist, it’s still true that it would be wrong to pinch their fur. In fact, even if nothing existed, it would still be wrong to pinch Ewoks.
Again, these are just a few examples. I could list many others. Admittedly, it’s mysterious how we know about these non-ontological truths. Since they don’t concern existing things, it’s surprising that our cognitive faculties can ‘get a grip’ on them, in the way that they can get a grip on objects with which we can interact (eg, the dog in front of me that I can see with my eyes and pet with my hand).
There can conceivably be possible worlds – possible ways for reality to be – that are not merely ways things could be
An immediate objection is that if there were truly nothing then there would not be any non-ontological truths either. A truly empty world would have nothing at all, including truths of any sort. The philosopher Tyron Goldschmidt expresses this thought when he writes in The Puzzle of Existence (2013) that the question of why any beings at all exist is:
the broadest question of all … The question amounts to a question about why any world obtains. After all, worlds are ways things could be, and without any ways or things – beings broadly construed – there can be no world.
But I don’t think this is right. This view assumes that, in asking why anything at all exists, we are asking why there are any truths at all (in Goldschmidt’s terms, ‘why any world obtains’). That is not what we are asking. We are looking for an explanation for existence specifically. We are not asking why there are truths rather than no truths. That would, as Goldschmidt himself notes, be a confused question to ask, since there isn’t any alternative to there being truths, not even an impossible alternative. ‘A situation in which nothing is true’ doesn’t describe a situation, not even an impossible situation, since descriptions of a situation tell us what is or would be true were that situation to happen. With the concept of non-ontological truths, we can also see that there can conceivably be possible worlds – possible ways for reality to be – that are not merely ways things could be. In those empty worlds there would be truths, but no things.
Many non-ontological truths would still be true even if nothing existed because they are necessarily true, if true at all. For example, recall modus ponens. That logical rule couldn’t help but be true, whether or not anything exists. The same holds for many of the other non-ontological truths, such as truths regarding what is possible and impossible, mathematical truths, and moral truths.
Some of these non-ontological truths are more controversial than others. But you don’t have to buy into every non-ontological truth to see that a possible world in which nothing exists would be more complex than it seems at first glance. When we think of complexity we normally think of the complexity of things and their properties and behaviours. But there is this whole other sort of complexity that is more abstract: complexity with respect to non-ontological truths.
Even if a possible world in which nothing exists might be more complex than we initially thought, it doesn’t follow that Leibniz was wrong when he said that it is simpler for nothing to exist than for something to exist. After all, you might think that if something exists this would leave us with all those non-ontological truths cited above as well as ontological truths about the things that exist. But postulating something new can simplify our overall picture of reality if the new thing can explain a great deal that would otherwise remain unexplained.
A possible world in which something exists may very well simplify matters if one or more of the existing things could explain why the non-ontological truths are true. This is similar to how Darwin simplified our account of biological reality by postulating the existence of something we didn’t previously believe in: a common ancestor. So if something of the right sort exists, this might make reality simpler than if nothing at all exists, if the existing thing can explain why many of the non-ontological truths are true. The simpler that existing thing is, and the wider the range of non-ontological truths it can explain, the simpler our overall account of reality will be. But what sort of existing thing might do the trick? Three possibilities naturally suggest themselves, though I don’t claim that these three options are exhaustive.
First, God is a natural candidate. Here I have in mind the sort of God we find in the world’s major monotheistic religions, all-powerful, all-knowing and so on. The feature of theism most important for our purposes is the idea that God’s nature and decisions are supposed to ultimately explain many aspects of reality. It is God’s status as reality’s explanatory bedrock that makes God a natural candidate for explaining various non-ontological truths. For example, if there is a God, then God’s decisions would explain various negative existential truths. Mechagodzilla doesn’t exist because Mechagodzilla just isn’t one of the things God wanted to create, or allow to be created.
Divine command theorists such as William of Ockham (of Ockham’s Razor fame) explain moral truths in terms of God’s commands – an act is good or bad because God commands it to be. René Descartes notoriously claimed that God decrees which logical and mathematical truths are true. These truths could not be otherwise – they are necessary – but that too is only because God decided they can’t be otherwise. There is also a case to be made that God is a particularly simple being. If that’s right, then our overall account of reality might end up being simple if God explains why many non-ontological truths are true. There is the traditional doctrine of divine simplicity, endorsed by prominent Jewish thinkers such as Maimonides, Christian thinkers such as Thomas Aquinas, and Islamic thinkers such as Ibn Sina. According to this view, there are no distinctions at all within God, either between God’s attributes, or between God and God’s attributes. Over the past several decades, the philosopher Richard Swinburne has argued in detail for a more modest way of understanding the idea that God is a very simple being, and so theism is a very simple hypothesis. The basic idea, which I don’t have the space to discuss in detail, is that many of God’s attributes (omnipotence, omniscience, perfect goodness, etc) are ultimately derivable from one or two of God’s attributes, and those attributes fit together in a neat and tidy manner.
Here is a second option if the God explanation doesn’t appeal. Many of the non-ontological truths might be explained by a natural (that is, non-supernatural) object that explains why the Universe has many of the properties it has. Suppose that the Universe originated in a cosmic singularity, an object of infinite density. The state of the initial singularity would, given how the laws of nature dictate the Universe evolves over time, explain why various negative existential truths are true. This is because the Universe’s initial conditions plus the laws will result in the Universe’s history taking one course rather than another, one that either does or does not include the existence of various particular things in it. Even non-deterministic laws may dictate that the existence of certain things is very improbable, given the Universe’s initial conditions.
The actual world, though filled with existing things, may for all we know be the simplest possible world
Some philosophers think that truths regarding what is possible and impossible in the broadest sense are also explained by the properties had by an initial singularity. The idea is that what’s possible and impossible is grounded in which states of the Universe can result from the evolution of the initial singularity, given how the laws of nature say the Universe will evolve over time. If some state of the Universe can in principle result from the initial singularity and the laws, then it’s possible, but if it can’t result then it is strictly impossible, as impossible as a round square. In fact, on this view that’s what makes round squares impossible. But would an initial singularity give us a particularly simple explanation for various non-ontological truths? The philosopher Quentin Smith argued that an initial cosmic singularity is as simple as it gets, since an initial singularity would have had no spatial extension, no mass (at least on some models), and would not have been governed by any physical laws. So it’s certainly a candidate.
A third possibility is that we humans make many of the non-ontological truths true. And, with various degrees of plausibility, many of the non-ontological truths cited earlier have been attributed by some philosopher or other to our decisions, conventions, practices or whatever. For example, moral anti-realists such as Sharon Street think that there are moral truths, but that they are made true by our attitudes, conventions or practices (or the attitudes we would have in ideal conditions). Logical conventionalists such as Jared Warren contend that logical truths are a result of our linguistic practices. Mathematical intuitionists such as the mathematician L E J Brouwer think that mathematical truths are mentally constructed.
There are surely more possibilities than these three. But, confining our attention to these three options – God, singularity, human beings – is one of them clearly preferable to the others? It’s difficult to say. There are many non-ontological truths, and some non-ontological truths may be more plausibly explained by an existing thing than would other non-ontological truths. It is difficult to see how some of these explanations would work; I’ve never seen anyone claim that an initial singularity might explain which moral truths are true. And a full evaluation of the three options would require a detailed examination of the relative merits of the various explanations on offer. We would have to take a look at each of the versions of divine command theory and human-centred moral anti-realism on offer, and see if any of them seem plausible on closer inspection. That being said, the first two options (God, singularity) do seem to fare better than the third option with respect to simplicity. They propose to explain lots of non-ontological truths by appealing to one existing thing, an existing thing that might be very simple. By contrast, if we try to explain various non-ontological truths by appeal to human beings, we don’t seem to have a very simple explanation. Human beings are complex objects. There are also a lot of human beings. Are the non-ontological truths explained by some of them, or all of them? How would we reconcile conflicting human attitudes or practices that might result in contradictory non-ontological truths? It’s hard to see how we might come up with an elegant or simple way of accounting for how that’s all supposed to work.
We can leave further speculation regarding the details to another occasion. The main point is this: if we can posit some existing thing that is simple enough, and capable of explaining a wide-enough range of the non-ontological truths, we might very well end up with an account of reality in which one or more things exist, and yet which is simpler than an account of reality in which nothing exists. In fact, despite how counterintuitive it seems at first, the actual world, though filled with existing things, may for all we know be the simplest possible world, if it has a sufficiently simple explanatory foundation. In that case, Leibniz would have been incorrect when he said that nothing would have been ‘simpler and easier’ than something. If we found ourselves surprised that reality didn’t take its simplest and seemingly most probable state, one in which nothing exists, that sense of surprise should dissolve.
Suppose that if something of the right sort exists, then that would be simpler than if nothing at all existed. Would this fact explain why there is something rather than nothing? Presumably it would only if we think that reality is the way it is because of how simple it is. In other words, we would have to think that reality is somehow striving toward simplicity, so that, if the world is as simple as it can be, this is because it is as simple as it can be. You shouldn’t oppose this idea on the grounds that our world is very complex, since, as I’ve emphasised, that complexity might be accounted for in terms of a very simple explanatory starting point.
A more serious worry is that, even if our reason for thinking that something is true is because it is simpler (remember Ockham’s Razor), it doesn’t follow that the thing itself is true because it is simpler. The reason we think the various species have a common ancestor is because this hypothesis is the simplest explanation of the evidence. But that simplicity isn’t what makes it true that there is that common ancestor.
We should question this assumption that simplicity never explains why some state of affairs comes about. The idea that sometimes reality takes a simpler form because it is simpler is more defensible than it might first seem. It would have the benefit of explaining why simplicity is a guide to truth (that is, why we should accept principles such as Ockham’s Razor), a methodological practice followed in both science and everyday life, but which is notoriously hard to justify. What’s more, many of us follow Leibniz in being puzzled at the fact that reality didn’t take what seems at first to be its simplest form, wherein nothing exists. We tend to think that if nothing had existed, and if this would have in fact been the simplest way for reality to be, then nothing would have existed precisely because nothing was so much simpler than something.
My argument flips this line of reasoning on its head. We should expect reality to be simple, and for all we can tell that’s exactly what we find. There being something rather than nothing shouldn’t surprise us if that’s the simplest way for reality to be. That wouldn’t explain everything. Supposing that reality somehow strives for simplicity, for example, we might very well wonder why that’s the case. It won’t work to say that reality strives for simplicity because that’s the simplest way for reality to work, as that would be a circular explanation. So, even if my extremely speculative proposal is correct, we’d still be left with a lot of mystery. Out of the infinite number of ways for reality to be, why did it turn out this way? That’s still a baffling question, even if we conclude that one of reality’s features, that things exist, might turn out to be less baffling than it initially seems.
