An Objective Immoral Moral Law

My friend Squelchtoad has posed another useful thought example up at his interblag.  I’m excerpting below, but you should pop over and read the whole set up.  It’s targeted to people like me, who think morality exists in some objecting, possibly neo-platonist way and therefore feel unsettled without a well-grounded moral philosophy.  Squelchtoad writes:

Suppose I could demonstrate to you beyond all possible doubt that one of the following two propositions was necessarily true:

  1. There does not exist a supreme being.
  2. There exists a supreme being (In the sense of an eternal, omnipotent, and omniscient creator of the universe) who commands that people rape one another, abandon any children they bear, and cause as much senseless pain as possible to humans and other animals[1].

Would you—could you—hope that (2) was the case instead of (1)? Are you prepared to hope for an “objective” Moral Law if that law will be deeply contrary to your current (ungrounded) moral beliefs, or do you simply want those beliefs validated? …Indeed, I worry that some people who abandon ethical convictions they hold in order to gain the certainty of a spelled out meta-ethical theory[2] may have fallen into a trap akin to the conjunction fallacy. People find stories with more specific information more plausible and likely, even though making a claim more specific makes it harder for it to be true! While it may feel easier to choose one meta-ethical theory than to be confident that “something-I-know-not-what” underlies your moral beliefs, that doesn’t mean you should do so, or that you need to in order to expound and act upon your moral beliefs.

I’ve had a post gestating for a while that now feels like a response to Squelchtoad’s challenge, so I’ll run it tomorrow.  Today, I’d like to know what your intuitions are.  The idea of an immoral objective morality is so bizarre to me that I instinctively flinch away when it’s proposed.   And that’s a reminder to go back to the Yudkowsky piece linked:

When you’re doubting one of your most cherished beliefs, close your eyes, empty your mind, grit your teeth, and deliberately think about whatever hurts the most. Don’t rehearse standard objections whose standard counters would make you feel better. Ask yourself what smart people who disagree would say to your first reply, and your second reply. Whenever you catch yourself flinching away from an objection you fleetingly thought of, drag it out into the forefront of your mind. Punch yourself in the solar plexus. Stick a knife in your heart, and wiggle to widen the hole. In the face of the pain, rehearse only this:

What is true is already so. Owning up to it doesn’t make it worse. Not being open about it doesn’t make it go away. And because it’s true, it is what is there to be interacted with. Anything untrue isn’t there to be lived. People can stand what is true, for they are already enduring it. —Eugene Gendlin

So I’m screwing my courage to the sticking point and trying to see if Squelchtoad’s question actually relies on a contradiction or if he just managed to trigger a cognitive flinch by pointing me toward a reducto ad absurdum that holds one of my beliefs up to ridicule.

What tools would you bring to bear on this problem?  I did think of going back to Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling (an exploration of the problem of Abraham’s attempted sacrifice of Isaac) and marshalling the absurd Knight of Faith be my champion in this fight.

But, to be honest, I’m still baffled by that book and its pro-paradox arguments, so I’m going with my usual technique: try and shift a philosophy problem into another abstract discipline for a new perspective (and to see which bits you have to excise to get it to fit in a new frame).

Should Atheism Be A ‘Comfortable’ Belief?

 

Fetch... THE COMFY CHAIR

Greta Christina put up a really thought-provoking post today at FreeThought Blogs (“Will Atheism Become Easier?“).  Greta’s not talking about the boring question (will atheists be less stigmatized in the future — pretty clearly yes), she’s wondering whether it will be more comfortable, personally and socially, to subscribe to a godless philosophy.  Here’s the conversation that got her thinking (I’m jumping around a little bit in my blockquoting, so do try and read the whole thing in context):

Tim was saying that he agreed with the original existentialists about how, from any external objective perspective, there’s no meaning to our lives, and meaning is something we create entirely for ourselves. And then he said something like, “The difference is that I don’t see why that’s a problem. Sure, I create my own meaning. So what? That’s fine with me. Sartre and Camus and that whole crowd thought this was a barely-tolerable psychological state that had to be struggled with on a daily basis… but I don’t see what the big deal is.”

I knew immediately what he meant. And I said something like, “I wonder if the difference is that they made up existentialism, it was totally new to them… but we grew up with it. The idea was already in the air. Even if you didn’t grow up in an intellectual household, the basic idea had already filtered down into the culture. So when we were figuring out the world and our place in it, existentialism just seemed normal.”

[The current generation of atheists] had to find a radically new way of looking at the world and our place in it, with radically new answers to the big questions of life and death. Without belief in God or a soul or an afterlife, we had to seriously re-think questions about morality and mortality, meaning and connection.

…If atheists continue to get our ideas into the world — not just our ideas about why religion is mistaken and atheism is right, but our ideas about how we live without a belief in God or a soul or an afterlife? …I’m wondering if this struggle will be easier for the people who come into atheism after us. Or even if it will be a struggle at all. I’m wondering if they’ll look at atheism the way my friend Tim and I look at existentialism. “Sure, there’s no God, and my consciousness is a biological product of my brain, and my sense of a cohesive identity and selfhood is a somewhat illusory mental construction, and when I die I’ll just be gone forever. So what? That’s fine with me. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Greta’s hope for the future kind of gives me the heebie-jeebies.  I just don’t think the atheism movement broadly and most of the people within it have actually landed on a philosophy.  And until then, it makes sense that our hearts are restless.  Feeling uncomfortable with our belief system is a good goad to refine it and figure out if we can metaphysically backslide into a better-grounded philosophy.

What makes me particularly uncomfortable is the comment by Greta’s friend that he can’t imagine what the big deal was that made people shrink away from existentialism.  There are vanishingly few one-sided arguments.  Every time you think you’ve found one, you should squelch your intuition, because you’re almost certainly wrong.

I don’t trust people who can’t imagine any evidence for the other side or who can’t scrape even a low pass on an ideological turing test.  You end up comfortable in your beliefs when you’ve got enough evidence in favor of your side to give you some epistemological inertia and you’ve seen some of the objections and found them not powerless, but not powerful enough to move you.

I really distrust the tendency of the atheist movement to write off philosophy and metaphysics.  (At the American Atheists convention, Lawrence Krauss said philosophy hadn’t accomplished anything in the past several hundred years and drew a fair amount of applause).  Atheists need to explain why these critiques are irrelevant or talk a bit more about how our epistemology works when it comes to moral questions.

My virtue ethics/neo-platonism is painfully uncomfortable and it’s incumbent on me to find a way to fix my beliefs.  You can go on for a while with a patchy approximation of a philosophy that’s just less wrong than anything else on offer, but it should always feel slightly wrong — a burden you’d be glad to set aside.

It’s a Fair Cop, Douthat

Why can't you have normal existential angst like all the other boys?

In a response to a lot of the debate that followed Jennifer Fulwiler’s conversion story at Why I’m Catholic, NYT columnist Ross Douthat posed a question to atheists that I find hard to answer.  Jennifer wrote that she abandoned atheism because she thought she was required to be a nihilist in a world without God, and, of the three propositions:

  1. God is not real
  2. Atheism logically requires nihilism
  3. Nihilism sucks so bad it can’t be true

She thought she was most likely to be wrong about #1.  Then followed a lot of reading and blogging before her decision to convert, which you can review at Conversion Diary.  A lot of atheists (me included) took issue with her confidence in premise #2, but Douthat’s post has taken some of the wind out of my sails.  I’m paring down his thought experiment here, but you should click through and read the whole post:

Suppose, by way of analogy, that a group of people find themselves conscripted into a World-War-I-type conflict — they’re thrown together in a platoon and stationed out in no man’s land, where over time a kind of miniature society gets created, with its own loves and hates, hope and joys, and of course its own grinding, life-threatening routines. Eventually, some people in the platoon begin to wonder about the point of it all: Why are they fighting, who are they fighting, what do they hope to gain, what awaits them at war’s end, will there ever be a war’s end, and for that matter are they even sure that they’re the good guys?

…At this point, one of the platoon’s more intellectually sophisticated members speaks up. He thinks his angst-ridden comrades are missing the point: Regardless of the larger context of the conflict, they know the war has meaning because they can’t stop acting like it has meaning. Even in their slough of despond, most of them don’t throw themselves on barbed wire or rush headlong into a wave of poison gas. (And the ones who do usually have something clinically wrong with them.)… Instead, given how much meaningfulness is immediately and obviously available — right here and right now, amid the rocket’s red glare and the bombs bursting in air — the desire to understand the war’s larger context is just a personal choice, with no necessary connection to the question of whether today’s battle is worth the fighting.

Again, you ought to read the full post, but I think you can see where this is going.  Why do atheists (like me, guilty as charged) think it’s reasonable to take meaning as a foundational premise in life, generally, but find it illogical for Douthat’s hypothetical soldiers to do the same thing at a slightly smaller scale.

Now, I can’t post a critique of atheists shying away from philosophy on Monday and then throw up my hands on Tuesday, so I’m going to kick around a couple ideas here, but I’m not really satisfied with any of them, so I’d welcome help in the comments.

Objection 1: I have to throw in the obvious one.  Living without meaning feels like living without a belief in the reality of physical objects.  My every action gives the lie to my professed beliefs and I can’t even hypothesize about how I or anyone else would behave differently.  This isn’t a very strong defense, I know, but it’s the readiest I have at hand.  Before you dismiss this, I’d like to hear how you think I can/should justify my foundational belief in the reality of physical objects.  And before you claim that any reasonable interlocutor will spot me that theorem, remember that Bishop Berkeley claimed God’s existence could be proven because a deity was required to keep Creation physical from moment to moment.

From Nietzsche Family Circus

That was my knee-jerk defense, on to the more bizarre ones.

Objection two: The hypothetical is a poor image of the problem atheists are in.  If the war turns out to be pointless, the soldiers might be foolish, but they are only wrong in that they mislabeled something as meaningful, not in positing that such a category exists.  Humans tend to be oversensitized to patterns, but all our mistakes aren’t a disproof of order in nature or causality generally.  Similarly, the idea that people can be mistaken about the meaningfulness of a particular event doesn’t mean that our mistakes about meaning-on-the-big-scale will be the same kind of mistakes.

Objection three: I think the soldiers may be wrong to ask the question at all at this intermediate level of human experience.  Why should a war (and all the aggregated opportunities and constraints that come with it) be any more or less meaningful than an earthquake, especially to a conscript?  I think of meaning as more of a telos/duty/geas kinda thing — something you’re called to.  I’m meant for something, I don’t just pick up meaning like scout badges.

So what I’m meant to do is live according to my obligations to the best of my abilities in whatever circumstances I find myself.  War, earthquake, high school are just different environmental constraints to for me to deal with (and some of these may be completely beyond my abilities — it’s an occupational hazard of not having a god to not send you more that you can handle).  But the question of whether the backdrop is meaningful or good is only relevant to me insofar as I have the ability to alter it.

If I am a general or a politician, I’ve got a good deal more responsibility to make sure I’m not creating a world that makes it difficult for people to be moral — a world that requires sin eaters.  Oh, and if I’m just me, I’ve still got to do my due diligence as a citizen in a democracy, but, even leaving that aside, I’ve got plenty of obligation to be going on with.  Every action I take–even something as small as being brusque with a friend or stranger–can be a stumbling block for others struggling to be good.

I can see my duty plain, without understanding what metaphysical structure compels it.  Stepping back into metaphysics is something I usually do just for fun, or as a change of perspective corrective to any bad habits I’ve picked up in my moral thinking.

 

UPDATE: There was some confusion in the comments, so you may want to check out the follow-up post: Too Sucky to be True.