Reformed pastor Tim Keller devotes Chapter 9 of The Reason for God to regurgitating the “Argument from Morality,” which essentially states that without a belief in a Supreme Being, there can be no basis for moral restraint among human beings. This argument usually goes in one of two directions:
Argument 1: People who don’t profess faith in a Supreme Being behave less morally than those who do, or
Argument 2: Philosophically, they simply cannot elucidate good reasons to be moral apart from a belief in a Supreme Being.
Both claims are wrong, and frankly I’m beyond tired of explaining why neither claim can be substantiated. But I’ll do it again here since Keller made this the focus of an entire chapter.
We’re Not Actually Less Moral
The problem with Argument 1 is that it is simply not true that non-theists behave less morally than theists. Globally speaking, by all measures of governmental and cultural health, non-theistic democracies fare much better than their theistic counterparts. One need look no further than Scandanavia to see what it looks like for a region to be relatively free from religion but quite healthy on every measure for success we can devise. By contrast, the United States is the most religious of all industrialized countries and it has the highest rates of all the things you don’t want to see like incarcerations, gun deaths, infant mortality, income inequality, mental health problems, and even obesity.
This same pattern holds true within the United States as well. Those states which are the least religious have the lowest rates of things like poverty, gun violence, teen pregnancy, STD’s, and incarceration while those states consistently scoring the highest on measures of religious devotion (as in the Deep South) have the highest rates of all the things you don’t want. My home state of Mississippi is the poster child for this phenomenon, topping the list for religious devotion but bottoming out on measures of education, economic health, mental health, and even physical well-being. Granted, technically none of these things necessarily relate to the question of morality…but is it really that much of a stretch to assert that there should be a connection?
If it were true that atheism leads to immorality, then shouldn’t less religious countries almost always be worse places to live?
I contend that when religious people say you can’t have morality without religion, they are offering a conclusion that comes from within their own ideological prejudice, and not from empirical observation. Having once been a Christian myself and now an atheist, I have not observed a significant decrease in moral restraint among those who do not believe in gods.
For what it’s worth, neither am I ready to assert that atheists are more ethical or morally upright than their religious counterparts. Each subculture has its own inherent strengths and weaknesses. I’ve seen far too much already to know that atheism doesn’t make you a better person. But I’ve also seen enough to know it doesn’t make you worse, either.
The first problem with Argument 2 is that everything I just said above should render this second point moot. If atheists don’t actually exhibit significantly less moral behavior than believers, then why are we arguing about this again? Does it really make sense to say that you cannot be moral without a belief in God if you’re surrounded by atheists who appear to be doing just fine thankyouverymuch? Clearly a belief in deities isn’t required, as people everywhere are showing they can be “good without God.”
But Keller says we’re lying, either to ourselves or at least to everyone else. He says that deep down every one of us who says we don’t believe in invisible beings really do:
I have a radical thesis. I think people in our culture know unavoidably that there is a God, but they are repressing what they know. (p.151)
I feel like a broken record addressing this, again. I talked about this in my most recent post in which fellow Reformed pastor John Piper completely dodged a sincere request to explain the empirical basis for this assertion. The bottom line is that it’s not a “radical thesis” at all. It’s an ideological prejudice based on a Bible verse, and if you’ve ever tried to argue with an evangelical Christian about the reliability of anything the Bible says, you know what a formidable task that is.
In this chapter, which encapsulates everything that is wrong with Presuppositional apologetics, Keller exhibits a familiar strategy:
Step 1: Misrepresent what non-theists actually think.
Step 2: Choose exactly the worst moral issues to demonstrate the superiority of your own worldview.
Step 3: Pretend that the only alternative to the other guy’s worldview is your own.
Step 4: Restate what the Bible says in your own words, and proceed as if the case is closed. Begin preaching.
As I walk you through his process, the other problems with Argument 2 should become readily apparent. Keller’s own system of belief doesn’t yield nearly as objective a sense of morality as he would have us believe, and in the end even his reasons for doing good fall short.
As I’ve mentioned before, Keller loves to accuse non-theists of being relativists. He insists that if you don’t believe that God determines what is right and what is wrong, your only alternative is to subject all moral questions to the whims of your own personal preferences.
If there is no God, then there is no way to say any one action is “moral” and another “immoral” but only “I like this.” (p.159)
Keller cannot seem to understand that humanistic ethics are not individualistic but communal, even societal. They seek to find the greatest good for the most people possible. They aren’t based on a “me” but a “we.” He never seems to acknowledge that.
Humanism: Doing the most good for the most people possible.
You-manism: Straw-man caricature of humanism focused on me, myself, & I.
— Neil Carter (@godlessindixie) March 6, 2016
What’s more, I challenge the notion that theism provides a superior path to objective (in this case meaning transcendent) morality. In the end, all systems of morality are man-made whether we realize it or not. You can say a moral guideline originates from a deity but it’s not that simple, nor is the result so reliable. For starters, which deity? Allah, Yahweh, Brahma or Vishnu? People can’t even agree on which one is the right one (or even that there should be only one), so how is this to yield a reliable basis for figuring out right from wrong?
And even if you could get everyone to agree on the same God (good luck with that one), would everyone agree that we can know what she, he, or it really wants? Does it even communicate with humans? Once it does, will humans agree on what was said? Will they agree on a common method of interpretation? Have they ever?
Keller would say we have to look to the Bible, but even the Bible says different things depending on where you look. Is it okay to kill your own child to appease a deity? Well, it depends, doesn’t it? If the Bible is to be your guide, there are occasions during which killing your child is exactly what God is asking you to do. What about killing a village full of people? Again, it depends. One time Yahweh instructed his own people to drive out an entire nation, killing anyone who wouldn’t turn over their land to the Israelites, including women, children, and even the unborn.
The Bible even claims that one time God wiped out almost every living thing himself because he was so angry at people. Evidently for the biblical worldview, genocide can be justified under the right circumstances.
Doing Right for All the Wrong Reasons
Not only does Keller root his reasons for moral behavior in a standard which is far from consistent, but even his reasons for doing good reveal a major weakness of his own perspective.
We all live as if it is better to seek peace instead of war, to tell the truth instead of lying, to care and nurture rather than to destroy. We believe that these choices are not pointless, that it matters which way we choose to live. Yet if the Cosmic Bench is truly empty, then “who sez” that one choice is better than the others?…
If the Bench is truly empty…There will be no one around to remember any of it. Whether we are loving or cruel in the end would make no difference at all. (p.163)
No difference at all? Really? So that’s it? In the end it’s all about getting a gold star? Is that really our only—or our best—motivation for cooperating and connecting, for showing compassion and mercy to those around us?
How bankrupt in the end must your moral system be if it can find no reason for doing good besides hope of reward after you die? Granted, Calvinists like Keller would rather argue that what is “right” and what is “good” depend upon what pleases God rather than what rewards man. But under the circumstances that would be a bit too question-begging to be of any use to anyone outside of his own theological tribe. But then, that is part of the problem, isn’t it?
Statements like the one in the quote above reveal that in the end religions like Christianity utterly depend on appealing to people’s selfishness, their desire to earn rewards and avoid punishment. It cannot ultimately escape tapping into the shallowest of motivational levels, failing to root moral and ethical decisions in what is truly useful to the entire human race and to the ecosystem as a whole.
Choosing the Worst Examples
I have to add here that Keller’s selective vision of Christian history astounds me. I’ve already written about how he conveniently claims for his own side the progressive victories of the abolitionists and civil rights activists even though his own tradition bitterly opposed those movements in their own time.
He is the one who then brings up the subject of genocide (bad move) and suggests that non-theists would have no basis for opposing the violent actions of Nazi Germany (p. 152). I find this highly ironic for at least three reasons: 1) Hitler wasn’t an atheist but a deist, albeit according his own idiosyncratic construct, 2) Hitler’s Germany was majority Christian, except the state church essentially looked the other way, and 3) We’ve already established that genocide is something the Bible says is okay under the right circumstances. Talk about relativism.
Keller kicks off this whole chapter by bringing up the role of women, which is a huge mistake. He relays a conversation which ironically illustrates the impotence of his own worldview toward determining how we should view the place of women in the world today.
A young couple once came to me for some spiritual direction…I asked them to tell me about something they felt was really, really wrong. The woman immediately spoke out against practices that marginalized women. I said I agreed with her fully since I was a Christian…She responded,”Women are human beings and human beings have rights. It is wrong to trample on someone’s rights.” I asked her how she knew that. (p.149)
Keller chooses this, of all topics, as his springboard for asserting that the only way we can have any basis for discerning right from wrong is…ultimately…the Bible. Keller takes her moral outrage at the marginalization of women and appropriates it for his own use, arguing that her sense of injustice comes from the same God who, according his tradition, supports the differential treatment of women.
But of course, keeping women out of the ministry isn’t marginalizing them. Insert neo-Calvinist justification here. Something about showing women the respect and care they truly need by keeping them out of positions of real power. Don’t get me started. It’s not good for my blood pressure. Keller’s worldview does precisely what he describes elsewhere as “transcendentalizing ordinary cultural differences,” lifting ancient views on the place of women in society out of their original historical context and placing them onto women today with very little recontextualization.
Keller is on thin ice venturing into any discussion on “rights” in the first place since, strictly speaking, no such vocabulary exists within his tradition. I did my graduate work at one of the seminaries affiliated with his denomination, and I distinctively remember at least two of my professors making a point of saying “You don’t have rights. All rights belong to God.” This opinion closely follows that of the apostle Paul who once asked:
Shall what is formed say to the one who formed it, ‘Why did you make me like this?’ Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for special purposes and some for common use?
Keller’s theological tradition doesn’t envision human beings as somehow possessing inalienable rights. It views people as valuable in a derivative sense wherein all human worth comes, not from humans themselves, but from what someone else does for them. According to the Bible, if God decides that some of them are only valuable as fuel for an everlasting fire, he alone possesses the right to make that decision. Humans have no rights of their own. They don’t even own their own bodies.
What’s more, I find it incredibly arrogant and inconsiderate of the vast diversity of religious belief in the world that Keller would present his readers with a false dichotomy, as if the only two choices we have are between “Youmanism” (his misrepresentation of what humanists actually believe) and Reformed trinitarian inerrantist Abrahamic monotheism.
There is only one way out of this conundrum. We can pick the biblical account of things and see if it explains our moral sense any better than the secular view. (p.162)
Really, only one way out? So those are are only two options? Surely we are missing a step or two in there somewhere. This is a common vulnerability of the presuppositionalist apologetic.
The Moral Awareness of the Animal Kingdom
Finally, because Keller’s grasp of evolution is incorrect as well, he doesn’t appear to realize that science paints a much richer picture of our ancestral past than what you will hear from an evangelical pulpit:
Evolution…cannot account for the origin of our moral feelings, let alone for the fact that we all believe there are external moral standards by which moral feelings are evaluated. (p. 154)
Clearly he has never read how prevalent altruism is among the species, particularly among mammals. Elsewhere in this chapter Keller discloses that he believes “nature [is] completely ruled by one central principle—violence by the strong against the weak” (p.161). But that’s a gross oversimplification of the way that Nature works. The struggle for survival depends not only on brute force and violence but also on things like cooperation, solidarity, and empathy.
Dolphins will rescue distressed members of other species, and they will flank their own injured, swimming alongside them for days until they are better. An elephant was once observed trying to push a dying friend into an upright position, and when that didn’t work, she simply stood by her for support for days, refusing food.
In his book The Atheist and the Bonobo, Dutch primatologist Frans de Waal explains that primates in particular have an amazingly well-developed sense of empathy, not only for their own species, but for others as well. Chimps will refuse rewards that are undeserved, and when one of them loses a child, the others will spend extra time grooming the mourning parent. Bonobos will share food even across tribal lines. Rhesus macaques have been observed catering to the special needs of a mentally disabled macaque toddler. The examples go on and on.
The point is that empathy and compassion are deeply woven into our evolutionary past, so humans do not have a corner on the market where morality is concerned. We share that element with the rest of the animal kingdom. Religious ideologies like Christianity view humans as unique in this respect, but an honest and thorough look at Nature doesn’t corroborate this perspective. Because empathy, compassion, and solidarity predate religion in our evolutionary history, they appear to be its roots, not its fruits.
In the end arguments from morality such as this one fall flat on their faces, for they depend on a misrepresentation of secular ethics, ignorance of the pre-religious evolutionary roots of human compassion, and a presumptuous false dichotomy between their own narrow preconceptions of truth and whatever they misunderstand about what other people really believe—people who are living lives which are at least as morally sound as the ones making the argument in the first place.
[Image Source: Adobe Stock]
(Other Posts in this Series)
- Introduction: “I’m Reading Tim Keller’s The Reason for God So You Don’t Have To“
- Chapter One: “Selection Bias and the Christian View of History“
- Chapter Two: “Tim Keller and the Problem of Suffering and Evil“
- Chapter Three: “Straw Skepticism in Tim Keller’s ‘The Reason for God‘”
- Chapter Four: “Setting the Record Straight: Correcting Tim Keller’s Faulty Historical Vision“
- Chapter Five: “The Evolution of Hell (and Why We’re Still Not Buying It)“
- Chapter Six: “Believing in Evolution, But Not Too Much“
- Bonus: “What’s Wrong With Asking For a Miracle?“
- Chapter Seven: “For the Bible Tells Me? No.“
- Intermission: “Changing Gods In Midstream“
- Chapter Eight: “Four (Bad) Reasons for God“
- Bonus: “The Argument from Misunderstanding How Natural Selection Works“
- Chapter Nine: “Tim Keller and the Argument from Morality“
- Chapter Ten: “Everything You Do Is Wrong“
- Chapter Eleven: “Your Religion Is Special, Just Like All the Others“
- Chapter Twelve: “But Why Does There Have to Be Blood?”
- Chapter Thirteen: “Seven Bad Reasons to Believe in the Resurrection of Jesus“
- Chapter Fourteen: “Four Ways Tim Keller’s Gospel Fails to Deliver“
- Epilogue: “Why the Gospel Doesn’t Work on Deconverts“
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