‘The Universe is Love’: On Spiritual Metaphysics and the Problem of Evil
In spiritual circles, a common metaphysical belief is that ‘the universe is love’, or something to that effect. Another way of phrasing this view is that the fundamental force in the universe is love, the universe is governed by love, or, as the Jesuit mystic Teilhard de Chardin opined, “The physical structure of the universe is love.”
This metaphysical position is often inspired by a mystical experience, in which a person intuits, feels, or envisions love being fundamental to the universe — in its structure or workings, or inherent to every atom. Love is experienced, first-hand and directly, as pervading all of creation; it is the fundamental force at work, indestructible and eternal. This spiritual metaphysical experience may also lead one to revise one’s conception of God, in which God is not personified but equated with this universal love.
Experiencing, or believing, that the universe is loving can be combined with other metaphysical positions, such as pantheism (the view that the universe is identical to God). In his latest book, Why? The Purpose of the Universe, the philosopher Philip Goff states, “In a mystical experience one seems to directly encounter a life or living presence that exists in all things. Some call it ‘God’ or ‘Brahman’. In order to stay neutral on many metaphysical questions, [William] James simply called it the ‘More’.” Viewing love as the fabric of the universe can fit in with these various theistic, religious, and philosophical positions. By seeing this love as a ‘living presence’, existing in all things, it would also seem to accord with a kind of panpsychism (the view that consciousness is everywhere). This ubiquitous consciousness would thus be a loving consciousness.
But however universal love is conceptualised metaphysically, I think it runs against two main philosophical problems. The first is the problem of evil, usually stated in response to the claim that God — an all-powerful, all-loving, and all-knowing deity — exists. If God does exist, and does possess these qualities, then this seems to be inconsistent with the amount of unnecessary suffering we see in the world (and which may also exist elsewhere in the universe).
Particularly exemplary of this problem is natural evil, such as predation and the agonising ways that non-human animals suffer and die in the wild. Based on God’s powers — His (presumed) ability to create animals in a way not governed by the ruthlessness of evolution by natural selection, His all-lovingness, and His knowledge of how beings would fare — we would not expect to see so much needless suffering in the world. The suffering of wild animals exemplifies the problem of evil because theodicies — vindications of God, given the existence of evil — struggle to offer reasonable justifications for it. I’m not convinced of theodicies for human suffering, but at least some of them rest on sturdier ground. Moral evil, for instance, can be viewed as the result of us acting freely as moral agents, with life as a free moral agent seen as more enriching and fulfilling than one as an automaton.
Humans are also subject to natural evils, such as natural disasters and diseases, which affect infants, who are not regarded as moral agents. Theodicies may try to justify these natural evils, however, by viewing them as opportunities for others to respond morally. I find this a cruel and unjustified set-up, under a theistic view, but in any case, none of these human-centred theodicies can explain what supposedly greater goods are in store for non-human animals in the wild. They are not moral agents. And to view them as natural ‘martyrs’, who will be rewarded in an afterlife, also doesn’t seem indicative of a loving God: Why wouldn’t God just grant them eternal bliss at the outset, rather than needlessly put them through great suffering first?
The problem of evil also applies to ‘the universe is love’ position. The kinds and degrees of suffering we observe in the world do not seem governed by love. A proponent of this position may adopt the self-sealing argument sometimes employed by theists — that ‘the universe works in mysterious ways’ — which thereby protects their position from criticism. So long as someone offers this line of thought, they can always claim that the loving workings of the universe are at play, even if we can’t see it, or it seems like we see the complete opposite (from our limited, finite point of view).
However, this denial of the problem of evil is like a form of metaphysical gaslighting or metaphysical self-gaslighting (depending on whether someone else or oneself is denying the reality of evil). If we think about what truly characterises love — an attitude of care, protection, kindness, and warmth — it is hard to see how this force is at play in suffering and death in the wild. Beyond suffering, we could also question how anything in the universe is an outcome of love, such as black holes, the destruction of stars, and meteor impacts. These forces in the universe could, one day, destroy or threaten life on Earth (and other planets that may harbour it).
Seeing love as fundamental in the universe may be consistent with — and drawn from — a profound and therapeutic mystical experience. But it has an air of toxic positivity to it: the idea that the universe is not love can feel unspiritual and negative, and therefore should be rejected. What makes this kind of positivity ‘toxic’ is the metaphysical gaslighting or self-gaslighting involved; it means every instance of suffering is filtered through the lens of love. It may be a way to push aside the weight and pathos of painful situations in our lives and those of others. It’s perhaps an understandable way of coping with the sheer amount of suffering in the world, but it may, ironically, frustrate one’s ability to express love.
By delegating love to the universe, one may treat painful situations with optimism or disinterest — ‘that’s the universe at work’ — instead of trying to respond with love to situations devoid of this feeling. It’s much more difficult to respond in this way than to hold onto the comforting idea that the universe cares about us and is looking out for us. I’m reminded here of the following lyrics from Tool’s track ‘Vicarious’, off their 10,000 Days album:
Pull your head on out your hippy haze and give a listen
Shouldn’t have to say it all again
The universe is hostile, so impersonal
Devour to survive, so it is, so it’s always been
Love exists — and can flourish more than it currently does — in the terrestrial, human plane of existence. But the importance and meaningfulness of love in our lives doesn’t justify the view that this emotion permeates the universe. An impersonal and hostile universe, and a natural world full of predation, might not feel very ‘spiritual’, in a hippie or New Age sense, but any true spirituality must confront this reality (or at least its possibility).
This brings into question why ‘the universe is love’ is such a common aspect of mystical experiences. It is more parsimonious, I argue, to see this experience as the outcome of human wishes, beliefs, expectations, intentions, and anxieties than as a source of genuine metaphysical truth. After all, mystical experiences are influenced by a person’s cultural background and mindset going into the experience. The wish for the universe to be loving, the belief that it is, the expectation and intention of having a mystical experience full of love, and the worry that the universe is cold and impersonal can all work to bring about a certain kind of metaphysical experience. If you’re feeling deprived of love and self-love, it’s not surprising, psychologically speaking, to find this deprivation compensated for in a mystical state. The fact that the experience of universal love is therapeutic and ineffably profound does not, in and of itself, justify the view that the universe is loving.
The second philosophical objection to ‘the universe is love’ concept that I had in mind is the assumption that love could exist at the level of atoms or subatomic particles. (If love is fundamental and inherent to the structure of the universe, then this view is implied.) This love-infused version of panpsychism is not defensible in the way that traditional forms of panpsychism are. It is not inconceivable to me that very basic forms of consciousness exist at the atomic or subatomic level of reality. This would be an incredibly simple form of experience, nothing like the kinds of conscious states we or other animals experience.
Nevertheless, most people consider love to be a complex emotion. According to most panpsychists, complex conscious states — which would include a complex emotion like love — emerge from the combination of simpler forms of consciousness. Therefore, love is unlikely to exist everywhere in the universe, as it’s only possessed by entities of a certain complexity. A panpsychist could also be a cosmopsychist and see the universe itself as a single conscious entity, which may be sufficiently complex to have the capacity for love; but we could also argue — perhaps more justifiably — that such a being is characterised by the complex emotion of hatred or malevolence, given the amount of destruction and suffering in the universe.
The philosopher Steven Law presents this as the ‘evil god challenge’ to theists: it proposes the idea of a deity who is all-powerful, all-knowing, but completely evil, which could be more plausible than the idea of an omnibenevolent god, in light of the evil we observe in the world. An even more plausible theistic notion may be a God with a mix of complex emotions, given the mixture of positive, negative, and neutral aspects of existence. Goff has also suggested that a God of limited power best explains what we observe in the universe.
Again, I think we can marshall other aspects of human psychology — our tendency to personify and anthropomorphise things — to illuminate why ‘the universe is love’ idea is so common and attractive. It seems more likely that we would be inclined to project a human emotion like love onto the universe than, in a mystical state, gain the ability to feel love exuding from every atom in the universe. Having visions of a cosmic nature, while still mysterious and not entirely explained naturalistically, do not demonstrate that human consciousness can become a metaphysical detector — an instrument that sees the universe as it truly is, in its entirety.
If one decides to reject the notion of a loving universe, based on the objections (or others) outlined, this doesn’t mean spiritual metaphysics isn’t available. Pantheism and animism would be two examples of positions that don’t require the view that love pervades all of existence. But even if one’s view of the fundamental nature of reality does not feel ‘spiritual’ — because one does not see the universe as God or nature as teeming with spirits — a fulfilling form of spirituality is still possible. Confronting the universe as impersonal, and seeing nature as devoid of spirits, is still consistent with feelings of awe and reverence towards the universe and the natural world. It is, moreover, consistent with the spiritual goal of cultivating love towards oneself, other sentient beings, and the world at large.
Originally published at https://www.samwoolfe.com on February 3, 2025.
