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Archive of "morality" Category
Common Sense Ethics
Fair warning: this entry contains philosophical theory. I have done my best to make it accessible, but if the very thought bores you, I suggest skimming or skipping this entry.
“If your Bible is an argument for the degradation of woman, and the abuse by whipping of little children, I advise you to put it away, and use your common sense instead.” — Lucy Colman, paper delivered at New York teacher’s convention (The Truth Seeker, March 5, 1887).
I recently came across this quote as it was passed on by a sceptic of my acquaintance on FarceBook. It’s an interesting one, and I agree with it – as far as it goes. But it might strike the average reader (or listener) as a tad simplistic, particularly those who believe that human reason is inferior as a moral guide to the teachings of whichever god is currently in fashion. What is this “common sense” to which she refers and which she places above religious morality?
Some believe it to be intuition. This isn’t far from the mark, in my view, but it is (of course) a bit more complicated than that. After all, following one’s intuition can lead to moral relativism – that is (at its core), the view that what one deems to be moral is so. If “common sense” is defined as being common through its being shared by the majority of people, then it most likely resembles a combination of various factors – the chief among them being intuition, empathy, and duty.
It’s a very interesting area of ethics, and increasingly popular among academics of such. Known generally as contextualism, or contextualist ethics, it is – to my mind – the first ethical theory to be informed by, and applicable to, the real world and real situations. This in contrast to those tiresome and unrealistic theories such as utilitarianism and Kant’s Categorical Imperative, which take morality to such abstractions as to be very useful in philosophical discourse, yet renders them of little use in real situations. Are we to believe that proponents of these theories truly stop to consider, in the midst of an ethical dilemma, the possible outcomes of each course of action, and how those outcomes affect the overall happiness of those involved? Or weigh whether or not what they consider to be the right course would work as a universal law?It’s possible, of course, but even if those few did so, it would not be a realistic approach to ethics, acceptably applied across the board. The question that begs to be asked here is: people are, generally speaking, moral. What is the phenomenon that causes this? Is it the hand of an invisible deity, silently and carefully guiding us? Possibly, but probably not. What is more likely is common ethical sense – also known variously as contextualism, role ethics, and vocational ethics, among others. It is also closely associated with virtue ethics, that school of thought founded by Aristotle millennia ago.
The gist of it is that we as moral agents see ourselves in various roles (this is related to the fascinating concept of narrative identity, or the narrative self). Each of these roles carries with it certain duties in our perception, so for instance someone who sees himself in the role of a nurse might (indeed probably should) consider it his duty to care for his patients, or someone who sees herself as a student considers studying to be a duty. Of course, we all have a multitude of roles and therefore a great range of duties we see ourselves as being under obligation to obey – we see ourselves as mother, brother, godfather, employee, volunteer, carer.. to name but a few.
Ethical dilemmas arise from conflicts between duties. A Christian nurse has a duty to care for her patient who will die without an abortion; she also has a duty which flows from her faith to absolutely not administer or assist in that procedure. It is not a calculated balance between happiness in consequences that informs her decision, but a battle between these duties, between these roles. Ultimately one must be placed above the other, and the consequences of that decision must be dealt with in turn.
Life is not simple. Ethics, if it is to be realistic, has to be likewise complex and even a little messy. There are few, if any, right answers, objectively speaking. We don’t always make the right call, and our moral self-perception is ever-shifting as we take on new roles, and new duties within those roles; as we discuss these duties and roles with our peers; as we are informed by society at large what our duties should be.So perhaps this is common sense – messy, complicated, and the best we can do in the circumstances. I would argue that it is not morality that comes from religious teachings, but vice versa – naturally we are inclined to instill our own beliefs into the stories we tell.
The Power of Metaphor, or, Don’t Blame Santa
Before I begin, I ought to warn you that there is no real conclusion or argument to be found in this entry; it is rather intended as a collection of musings hoped to inform but primarily provoke further thought. Most of what is contained herein is part of an ongoing internal discussion I’m holding with myself, and this forms something of an update as to the point that that debate has reached. So open your mind, and read on.
I have made mention before of my status as a pagan atheist. It’s not just an incidental matter for me, either; while I don’t believe the Gods or spirits are actual entities capable of any kind of interaction with this world, I believe they are powerful and practically useful metaphors for a great deal of human life. The Gods we choose for ourselves – if choose them we do – represent those principles which are most important to us. For this reason I tend more toward the Northern European pantheon, in particular the Norse Gods. If I had a Sabbath like the Christian Sunday or Jewish Friday, it would be Wednesday, named for Odin, a.k.a. Woden (Woden’s Daeg -> Wednesday) – for he is the figure with whom I most identify.
He is the symbol for wisdom, courage, and honour – among many other things. He is also seen as the guardian of travellers, much as the Christian Saint Christopher. All of these themes are ones which ring true with me: I aspire to be wise, courageous and honourable above all else; I can think of no qualities I would rather possess. There is also an emphasis on respect and reverence for nature in the Northern European religions, which it won’t surprise you to find has particular resonance with me.So why, you might ask, don’t I just identify with those qualities directly instead of expressing them through the language of mythology and religious faith? It is a good question, and one which I have asked myself on many an occasion. I think the answer, as far as I can fathom it, lies in what I refer to as the “power of metaphor”; that is, the linguistic and emotional force that can be expressed only in terms of phenomena that transcend the physical, evidential world. Humanity is known for being a fickle race, and a claimed devotion to an abstract concept such as justice seems to hold less force, somehow, than a claimed devotion to a deity personifying that concept. It is an appeal to the eternal nature of these ideals as opposed to the sometimes-fleeting nature of humanity’s adherence to them.
Another example of this that I recently found out about (thanks to my friend the Nietzschean feminist) is Laveyan satanism, which again is essentially an atheist religion. The ideals it favours are individualism, a realistic approach to humanity’s darker impulses and an acceptance of these drives as an inevitable an essential component of understanding what it is to be human. There is also a strong element of anarchism, a rebelliousness and hostility toward authority that is reflected in few other mythologies. But it is atheist – and specifically non-Christian, a claim which cannot be made by theistic Satanism – because it entails a commitment to these ideals only, not a belief in a literal Satan or lesser demons. There is much in LaVeyan Satanism which rings true with me and values which are shared by the pagan faith.On a tangentally-related topic, I also want to address the topic of Santa Claus – not as a metaphor, but as a belief tantamount to religion but treated as a socially-acceptable falsehood. This line of thought comes from listening to my backlog of Point of Inquiry podcasts, specifically the interview with Todd C. Riniolo. He noted an objection to the widely-used argument in sceptical circles that it is little wonder that people are credulous in adulthood when they are raised to believe in Santa Claus as children. It is rarely used as a forceful argument, usually instead forming a arbitrary comment; but nonetheless is worth addressing. Riniolo’s objection is that there is simply no proof that belief in Santa during childhood leads to credulity in adulthood. Indeed, he argues, the “debunking” of Santa constitutes many a child’s first truly sceptical activity.
I thought this was a very interesting point, and it contributed to an ongoing internal debate I’ve been conducting with regards to how best to raise a child in the sceptical mindset. It hasn’t helped me make up my mind on the subject, but has made a significant contribution to the complexity of the issue. Is it wrong to lie to one’s children in this regard, or is it a valuable experience that teaches them that deception (harmless or otherwise) is everywhere and that nobody is to be trusted implicitly? On a personal note, I think I “grew out of” notions like God and spiritualism around the same time as I did the notion of Santa. I don’t recall being annoyed at the deception, either; at some point it just became a childish absurdity and I scoffed at my parents for persisting in the charade.So would it be better or worse to deny one’s child this experience? Should we rather explain as best we can the lessons that would be learned through it, rather than perpetuate the white lies? At the very least, it seems that the lies do less harm than one might think.
Fictional Sceptics #6: Star Trek (part 1)
Star Trek is one of the best-realised and most popular science fiction universes in the history of the genre. It is also fertile ground for musings on the subject of scepticism in its content; so fertile, in fact, that I’ve decided to give over more than the usual solitary entry to the discussion thereof.
In this, the first part, I want to focus on the secular humanism that can be seen in virtually every episode of both the original series (TOS) and the Next Generation (TNG). As noted in this thread on the Richard Dawkins forum, atheism and secularism is often portrayed as amoral; one of the best arguments against this (in the world of fiction anyway) is the Star Trek of Gene Roddenberry*.If anything, the Star Trek morality is too prominent much of the time, and can make for some rather cheesy (some even tedious) moments of moralising. Wherever one stands on this issue, it’s hard if not impossible to make a case that there is no moral message in Star Trek; and equally hard to make a case that the morality that is there is religious in origin. Indeed, back in the early days, it was quite the controversy that there wasn’t a chaplain of any kind on board the Enterprise – despite the network executives’ attempts to crowbar one in, Roddenberry was adamant.
What is also worth remembering is the radically progressive nature of TOS when it first aired. Not only were men and women portrayed working side by side as equals, but people of different races also. In fact, a previous draft of the proposal to the network for the show had Majel Barrett (later Roddenberry’s wife) in the role of second-in-command. While this was more radical than the network could accept at the time, the version that finally aired was certainly still very progressive for its time.This entry is not intended as an exhaustive essay on humanist morality in Star Trek; for more details on this fascinating subject, see this interview with Gene Roddenberry for The Humanist. Try to ignore the occasional typo or spellcheck error (though I have to say, “Captain Piracy” is one of the better ones I’ve ever seen). I also recommend the recent Point of Inquiry interview with Tom Flynn.
Tune in next time when I’ll be discussing the numinous aspects of Star Trek, and how it shows brilliantly that secular doesn’t mean soulless (except perhaps in the literal sense).
* Once Rick Berman took over, coming into the series of Deep Space Nine and Voyager, there is a noticeable trend of greater accommodation for the supernatural, religion, and things that cannot be explained by science. The Bajorans (particularly the crazy weirdness they had going on with Sisko) and Chakotay’s Native American spiritualism are the obvious examples. While not intrinsically a bad thing, the secular messages took a substantial nose-dive with the departure of Roddenberry.
Dog bites man
The sexual-liberal community is apparently up in arms about the Pope’s latest comments on gender theory. I, however, welcome this news because it contributes further to the exposition of the Pope as a right-wing, conservative religious crazy person. Yes, his remarks are offensive and ignorant; but they should not be surprising.It is quite telling that the majority of negative comments in the article come from Christian sources. It is my fond hope that this trend continues, and the religious right does more to marginalise itself in the eyes of society. I look forward to the day when “Pope spews yet more hateful ignorant pigshit” is not news.
The Life, Death and Legacy of Deep Throat
Possibly the most famous informant since Judas, the man known until just three years ago only as “Deep Throat”, has died, aged 95. There are a few reasons for mentioning this here.
Firstly, he is an interesting figure for sceptics – he contributed one of the greatest amounts of fuel to the fire of the conspiracy theory culture that any one person has managed. It finally proved, in the eyes of many, that the government cannot be trusted; that there really are conspiracies and cover-ups at the highest levels of government.
Despite this being a perfectly valid point, however, what is rarely if ever taken into account by conspiracy nutstheorists is that not only do conspiracies and cover-ups happen, but so does whistleblowing. Compared to some conspiracy theories, the Watergate scandal was relatively small in terms of how many people knew the truth; and yet someone spoke up. This is a perfect demonstration of one of the mainstays of arguing against conspiracies – the whistleblower argument. So not only did Deep Throat provide conspiracy theorists with the perfect proof, he also provided the perfect counter-argument.The second thing I find interesting about Mark Felt is his expressed misgivings about what he did; apparently he felt guilty about “betraying his FBI badge”. Some critics agree with this assessment and brand him a traitor for turning on the Commander in Chief – a strange assessment considering the FBI is not a military organisation but a civilian one. Either way, I disagree with his critics and argue rather that he upheld his oath as a federal employee; the oath he took bound him to uphold the constitution, not to defend the president.
Of course, it’s not as simple as that. As associate director of the FBI, he was also supposed to protect the information relating to the investigation, and send it through the correct channels. This is the obligation he violated, and surely the source of his moral discomfort. What he did, though, fulfilled the spirit of his role rather than the by-the-letter procedure thereof.Here comes the quick ethical philosophy section, because me being me I find it hard to resist. Mark Felt suffered a moral dilemma, which is what happens when one or more roles in which you sees yourself oblige you to take two conflicting courses of action. In this case, he was obliged to follow procedure, and also to see that justice was done. Normally these two obligations would not conflict – and indeed the theory is that they are more or less synonymous. However, with regards to the Watergate scandal, the procedure was blocked, hindered, and/or corrupt – giving rise to the dilemma.
I say he did the right thing. He chose principle over procedure, and in exposing the Nixon administration’s misdeeds, he carried out the most important role of his position. It was, after all, an important founding tenet of the constitution that nobody would be above the law; his obligation to defend and enact this principle overrode his obligation to follow Bureau procedure. What’s more interesting than the whole Watergate débacle is his later conviction (and pardon) for approving illegal raids. That has echoes in recent legislation, and involves arguments about the right to privacy and the measures necessary to combat terrorism.That will have to wait for another day and another blog entry. For now, it is enough to remember the man known for over thirty years only as Deep Throat, and what he did. I only hope that his Alzheimer’s provided him some degree of moral peace in his final years, and he died free of torment.
Away Turf
One of the more commented posts here recently was Home Turf, in which I inveighed at some length regarding the logically necessary divide between science and religion. Religion is fine, I concluded, as long as it remains in the private sphere.
My good friend Von made a comment which brought to attention something which was left unsaid (though perhaps implied) in my original rant – why religion is actually OK at all.
There is no doubt in my mind whatsoever that religion has played a positive role in a great many lives. The advantages it brings are almost too numerous to list, but here’s a cursory top-of-the-head job: removes/reduces fear of death; provides consolation after a loss; creates a sense of wonder; absolves from guilt; “explains” everything; provides cast-iron moral code; binds communities together… I could go on, but I won’t.
These are the things which should be celebrated about religion; but they should not be considered – as they so often are – the sole domain thereof. As an atheist, I am truly and profoundly insulted when people argue that atheism means amorality; I don’t fear death because all evidence suggests that it is the absence of experience, and it is thus senseless to fear it; and a sense of wonder is certainly no stranger to me – nature in all its complex splendour is quite amazing enough without having to resort to supernature.
But isn’t it more interesting (and fruitful) to discuss these issues, like the true value of religion and the role it might, should, does – or not – play in society? Rather than obsessing over complete and eternal non-starters like the verifiability of deities? Religious-types: stop offering proof. Scientific-types: stop demanding it.
The first step in looking for meaningful answers is to ask meaningful questions.
Chickens and Eggs
For one reason or another, there’s a theme recurring in my thoughts today. It began on the bus ride to university, when I was contemplating the philosophy of language (as I am wont to do of a morning); one of the most interesting questions I’ve come across is where it meets the philosophy of mind. The question in its basic form is this:
Did our language evolve to reflect our concept of mind, or did our concept of mind grow out of the inaccuracies in our language?The idea here is the possibility that phrases like “I have a body” mislead people into separating their identity from their physical presence – seeing one’s body as a possession rather than as the root of the “self”. The question here is asking whether this subtle nuance of the language grew out of our natural perception that we inhabit (rather than are) our bodies, or whether this perception itself came out of our habit of speaking this way. I’m inclined to say the former, but it’s still a very interesting and thought-provoking question.
The second part of this continuing “Chicken and Egg” theme came when overhearing a conversation in the library about religion and morality. Someone was reporting someone else as saying that most contemporary morality originally comes from religion. They weren’t drawing conclusions from this – just stating a fairly widely-held and generally uncontroversial view.
But it got me thinking: why would we assume this to be true, just because many of the laws of today’s society (against murder, as a classic example) are also present in religion, which predates modern law? Do we not even think to consider what predates religion? This relates to Euthyphro’s Dilemma, which asks:Is something right because the God(s) approve of it, or do the God(s) approve of it because it is right?
I love Socrates. I think it’s fairly clear to anyone who thinks objectively about these things that religious morality grew out of social morality – rules for living together harmoniously. Modern law then grew out of the influence of religious morality. It’s generally a harmless mistake to fail to look beyond the initial cause to the root which gave rise to it, but in some
insanerare cases, people are actually arguing that (for instance) atheists should be exempt from human rights, because morality comes from God. I’m not going to go into it here, but it may well come up in the future.And on a final, frivolous note – the egg came first. Dinosaur eggs, anyone? Fish eggs? If you were to ask which came first, the chicken or the chicken egg, then the question might be a bit more interesting. But I’m just a pedant like that.
UPDATE: As regards the first question of language and the perception of the mind, there’s been some research on it done recently. It would appear that there is evidence to support the idea that our language does in fact influence our understanding of things such as what it is to be alive. Via ScienceDaily.
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