A Brief Critique of Consequentialism and Ethical Relativism

It feels unpopular in today’s post-modern culture to subscribe to deontological ethics. It was made clear during a recent course I took, for example, that the majority of young thinkers tend towards consequentialism and ethical relativism. It is even less popular, within deontological ethics, to subscribe to divine command theory. This view is often seen as old-fashioned and traditionalist—or worse, judgmental and bigoted. Many believe that rather than being a valid and logical philosophy, it is only the dogmatic result of religious belief. This, however, is not necessarily true. I hope to demonstrate that in many regards it is superior in its explanatory power and usefulness than other views.

Consequentialist ethics look solely to the outcome of an action to determine if it was ethical or not, ignoring the intention of the actor. To the degree that an action produces a good condition, it can be said to have been ethical. One problem with this approach is that does not provide a way to define good and bad. What is good? For whom is it good? Without scrutinizing an act according to some law or convention, the good of an act becomes completely relative. The act’s rightness becomes a matter of opinion. Consequentialism fails to provide criteria for what is right and wrong, and this failure makes it largely useless for making objective moral judgments.

Consequentialism also creates possibilities where well-meaning actors perform unethical acts by accidents of chance—e.g. a man trying to prevent a traffic accident, but by doing so making it worse. Though his intentions were good, the act would be unethical.  Conversely, a criminal intent on evil might unintentionally produce good conditions, thus making the act good. Intuitively we know this does not make sense. The intentions of the actor must be taken into account. In our judicial systems we do distinguish between premeditated crimes and crimes of opportunity. Consequentialism tries to negate this human intuition under the misguided belief that rationalized arguments originating in the neocortex are the only source of valid moral judgements.

This can be connected to Haidt’s Social Intuitionalism (2001) which shows that when eliciting situations occur, an intuitive judgement about its moral content is made. Only then does higher reasoning follow and the subject either confirms his or her initial intuition, or rejects it. This was seen clearly in the recent SBE class where students initially indicated, almost unanimously, that necrophilia was morally wrong. After discussions, however, increasingly more students concluded that the lack of negative consequences meant there was in fact nothing particularly wrong with the action. By applying consequentialist reasoning, the initial intuitive judgement was rejected in favor of an “enlightened,” presumably more valid viewpoint. I would argue that the rejection of moral intuition is not a correct approach to ethics. Rather than leading to more valid conclusions, this approach is nothing more than the post-hoc justification of immoral actions.

But then where do moral intuitions come from, and why should they be considered more valid than consequentialist conclusions? One school of thought gives them an evolutionary origin. The drive to survive—and the need to work together to do so—has ingrained within us a set of instincts which help keep the fabric of society intact. Moral intuition is, in this view, merely a functional trait that contributes to survival. This however fails to account for phenomena such as counter-preferential choice. Why do we feel a “moral resonance” when we witness someone sacrifice his or her life for another—or for a higher cause? Another view is that moral intuitions are sociocultural constructs that we unconsciously learn as we grow, much like language, and become second-nature to us. This idea is elaborated by Mikhail (2007) and could account for counter-preferential choice—if for example, selflessness and sacrifice were highly valued in the social context of one’s upbringing.  But this fails to explain why a society or culture would adopt such non-essential, non-survivalist values in the first place.

A third view, the one that I subscribe to, is that moral intuition is merely another word for an almost forgotten term—conscience. The conscience is a moral compass, existing within every human being, informing him or her constantly of the difference between right and wrong. This very idea necessitatesthe existence of moral “laws” that transcend social consensus or instinct. Just as a real compass always points to the magnetic north—a physical location that remains unchanged regardless of viewpoint, culture, time or place—the moral compass points to real, absolute and unchanging moral laws that are not relative or subject to differences in opinion—for they are in fact divinely decreed. This is not to say that absolute moral laws can always be absolutely known or that any person or institution understands them perfectly—it is only to say that they exist. They must exist, for only then can any meaningful discussion about the “rightness” or the “wrongness” of an action (or its consequences) take place.

Arguing ethics in the absence of a belief in moral absolutes is like arguing about which way is “up” while floating through space. Right and wrong (including extremes such as pedophilia) become only conventions, and the basis for any convention can always be called into question or changed. True north, on the other hand, is immune to differences of opinion and requires no consensus for it is a physical reality that would continue to exist even if no humans ever lived. A man can be said to be going “west” or “east” and such a statement is actually meaningful. If no global frame of reference exists, talk of direction has no real meaning—and this is precisely the case when ethics are discussed irrespective of absolute moral laws. Thus, divine command theory is more useful than consequentialism because it provides a solid framework by which ethics can be discussed in a meaningful way, morality can move beyond mere consensus and the rightness or wrongness of actions can be objectively evaluated.

Haidt, J. (2001). The emotional dog and its rational tail: a social intuitionist approach to moral judgment. Psychological review, 108(4), 814.

Mikhail, J. (2007). Universal moral grammar: Theory, evidence and the future. Trends in cognitive sciences, 11(4), 143-152.               

A Post To Make Evolutionists Angry

The debate over whether intelligent design is a credible topic to teach children (or even mention to children) in school is such a no-brainer to me that I am simply flabbergasted as to why it is such a hotly debated topic. The only way I can think to explain its passionate dismissal by so many educators, is complete professional bias because of its connection to religion, the most unpopular of subjects today.

When looking for an explanation, is it not simply good practice to consider more than one possibility? Of two explanations, one may very well be proven wrong, eventually, and then the other would be more sure. And yet in the case of the origin of life, only one possible explanation is put forward in schools, and it is one that has not been proven. Rather, it is one that has been proven to be very shaky indeed.

The refusal to consider alternate explanations is dishonest, unwise, unbalanced, and just bad practice. And it's not just refusal. It is protest marches, court cases, hate mail... it is pulsating forehead veins! I say stay this madness! Education has been hijacked by the dogma of the staunchly irreligious.

Logic seems to dictate loudly that intelligent design is not only a credible explanation in talking about the origin of complex systems, but a far more likely explanation than unaided evolution is. We must remember, however, that they are very different types of explanation. While one of them is purely based on science, the other admits that science alone cannot always be used to prove what can be proven logically or philosophically. But is it really so strange that a thing, contemplating itself, is unable to explain its own origin using observation and analysis?

Why then such fury? Is it anything more than a gross overreaction to the hint of a religious flavor? It is a fury that causes evolutionists to become more narrow and religious in their thinking even than their counterparts! For which is more narrow and dogmatic, to accept nothing but what the scientific method can prove, or to accept some element of the unexplainable? Is it more narrow to believe only in the natural, or to leave room also for at least the possibility of the supernatural?

But logic gives the greater argument. Setting aside the question of life, let us ask this: What complex system, showing clear order, do we know of that did not come about from something even more complex and orderly than itself? A complex thing like a book can only exist because it came from a more complex author. A complex ECG printout can only exist because it came from a much more complex printer. A complex ant hill, can only exist because it came from a much more complicated ant. What about a beehive? A melody?

In fact, we cannot find anything complex and orderly that did not originate from something even more complex and orderly, and with a specific creative intent. It would be madness to try to explain a book by postulating that a nearby printing press exploded, and the letters, ink and paper all fell down together coincidentally, and in the right sequence to produce intelligent text. It would be lunacy to try to explain a pop song by postulating that there was an accident in the recording studio, and all the instruments were knocked about while the record button was pressed. It is madness and lunacy precisely because even the dullest of us recognize the signs of intelligent design in literature and music.

We cannot find anything complex and orderly that did not originate from something more complex and orderly. And yet in the case of the most complex and orderly thing of all, life, we are taught to believe that the opposite is true. Even with absolutely no precedent, we are taught to deny these clear principles. We are taught to believe that life did not originate from something more complex and orderly, but instead that the universe exploded and that all the pieces did indeed fall down together coincidentally and in the right sequence.

Is this not simply madness? It may very well not be madness, it may in fact be true. In the case of life, perhaps the printing press may well have exploded to produce the book. But what about the likelihood of those two contrasting explanations? We are talking about astronomical figures here. What sane person, finding a book, would assume such a far-fetched explanation? And yet, this is how we are taught to think!

Is it the apparent absence of an author that leads men to think this way? They look around, and see no obvious sign of an author (besides life itself), and so they wrack their brains for centuries in order to come up with any explanation that is at least feasible. And then they tell it to themselves for centuries more, until they they actually believe it is true. That is precisely our situation! Evolution may be feasible, but is it likely? Is it not more likely that we simply have not found the author?

Actually, it is not the apparent absence of the author only, but it is the intentional unwillingness for there to be an author that has caused us to take the most unlikely explanation imaginable, and elevate it to the dogma of our age. Why? For many reasons. For intellectuals, it is because believing in God means accountability. For non-intellectuals, it is because believing in God is so damn unfashionable. Also, because religion through the ages has proven to be so damning, men will believe anything to escape it. Is it really so foolish to imagine God away for the sake of self-preservation?

But intellectual honesty must at some point prevail. And even though we may hate the idea, we must admit the obvious. As clearly as we know that a beehive is the result of the intelligent bee, we can see that life is also the result of something, or someone intelligent, beyond our ability to fully explain or perhaps ever understand. Either that is true, or we are betting on the feasibility of a theory with a likelihood of somewhere between a number astronomically minuscule, and zero.

So why is there such vehement protest against the theory of intelligent design? Why do we insist only on the dogmatic indoctrination of evolution? Bias, nothing more.

SPF

Thank You For The Mustard

I recently finished Chesterton's enduring masterpiece, Orthodoxy. I am still digesting it, re-reading sections at a time, trying to follow his thoughts. He is the finest writer I've ever come across. He uses so much paradox. The impression I get is that he is willing to turn the entire world upside down, if only he can get you to realize you've spent your entire life standing on your head!

I've always found it strange that many see Christians as narrow minded. Although, nowadays, after I've experienced much of the anti-intellectualism, thought-manipulation, and adherence to unfounded dogma that infects most of Christendom, I can see more why that accusation is in many cases valid. But I mean in more general terms, who is more open minded: the one who believes strictly in observable material laws that govern and determine, or the one who believes in a supernatural element to the universe? OK, that was rhetorical...

Chesterton puts it superbly:

"For we must remember that the materialist philosophy (whether true or not) is certainly much more limiting than any religion. In one sense, of course, all intelligent ideas are narrow. They cannot be broader than themselves. A Christian is only restricted in the same sense that an atheist is restricted. He cannot think Christianity false and continue to be a Christian; and the atheist cannot think atheism false and continue to be an atheist. But as it happens, there is a very special sense in which materialism has more restrictions than spiritualism. Mr. McCabe thinks me a slave because I am not allowed to believe in determinism. I think Mr. McCabe a slave because he is not allowed to believe in fairies. But if we examine the two vetoes we shall see that his is really much more of a pure veto than mine. The Christian is quite free to believe that there is a considerable amount of settled order and inevitable development in the universe. But the materialist is not allowed to admit into his spotless machine the slightest speck of spiritualism or miracle. Poor Mr. McCabe is not allowed to retain even the tiniest imp, though it might be hiding in a pimpernel. The Christian admits that the universe is manifold and even miscellaneous, just as a sane man knows that he is complex. The sane man knows that he has a touch of the beast, a touch of the devil, a touch of the saint, a touch of the citizen. Nay, the really sane man knows that he has a touch of the madman. But the materialist's world is quite simple and solid, just as the madman is quite sure he is sane. The materialist is sure that history has been simply and solely a chain of causation, just as the interesting person before mentioned is quite sure that he is simply and solely a chicken. Materialists and madmen never have doubts.

"Spiritual doctrines do not actually limit the mind as do materialistic denials. Even if I believe in immortality I need not think about it. But if I disbelieve in immortality I must not think about it. In the first case the road is open and I can go as far as I like; in the second the road is shut. But the case is even stronger, and the parallel with madness is yet more strange. For it was our case against the exhaustive and logical theory of the lunatic that, right or wrong, it gradually destroyed his humanity. Now it is the charge against the main deductions of the materialist that, right or wrong, they gradually destroy his humanity; I do not mean only kindness, I mean hope, courage, poetry, initiative, all that is human. For instance, when materialism leads men to complete fatalism (as it generally does), it is quite idle to pretend that it is in any sense a liberating force. It is absurd to say that you are especially advancing freedom when you only use free thought to destroy free will. The determinists come to bind, not to loose. They may well call their law the "chain" of causation. It is the worst chain that ever fettered a human being. You may use the language of liberty, if you like, about materialistic teaching, but it is obvious that this is just as inapplicable to it as a whole as the same language when applied to a man locked up in a mad-house. You may say, if you like, that the man is free to think himself a poached egg. But it is surely a more massive and important fact that if he is a poached egg he is not free to eat, drink, sleep, walk, or smoke a cigarette. Similarly you may say, if you like, that the bold determinist speculator is free to disbelieve in the reality of the will. But it is a much more massive and important fact that he is not free to raise, to curse, to thank, to justify, to urge, to punish, to resist temptations, to incite mobs, to make New Year resolutions, to pardon sinners, to rebuke tyrants, or even to say "thank you" for the mustard." - C.K. Chesterton Orthodoxy 1908 (Public Domain)

read more from Orthodoxy... 

SPF

You Too Will One Day Diffuse

I'm so fascinated by the second law of thermodynamics. The idea that energy diffuses, and all its implications, just boggles my brain.

When you put a drop of dye in water, it will spread out as far as it can until the concentration of the dye is equal and consistent throughout the entire substrate. That is the natural law of diffusion. Everything likes to spread out as far as it can unto equal concentration. The same goes if someone passes gas in a room o_O.

If a spaceship door is opened, since the void of space is empty (that's why it's called space) everything will be violently sucked out because of this same tendency to diffuse! The air wants, desperately, to spread out evenly through space. And, well, space is very empty, and there is lots of it.

When I have a hot cup of coffee, it sits on my desk, and I get so absorbed in writing that by the time I go to drink it, it is cold. Why is it cold? Because the heat-energy wants to diffuse. The air around it is colder, the desk is colder, and so the heat happily moves along to these colder things in its mission to be consistent.

Everything wants to spread out. There are no mountains on the ocean. Mountains take energy after all. The surface of water is flat because all the water spreads out to the path of least resistance.

Potential energy wants to be released! A lot of energy was put into making your average stone. It wants to release its energy and break into sand, into dust! An enormous amount of energy was put into building a city. People ate carrots, full of energy from the sun, their bodies extracted the energy from the carrots to be used by their muscles and brains. But energy diffuses, and so eventually the city will all crumble (unless more energy is added to maintain it).

Suns will burn out. Planets will grow cold. Solid objects will break up into smaller and smaller objects. Everything made will eventually be unmade. Everything gathered will be spread out again. Pressure will be released. Gravity will be satisfied. Things will get simpler, and smaller, and colder.

One day everything will be even, released, empty, broken down, spread out, cold and consistent.

But happily for now, here on Earth, for some reason that nobody knows for sure, things keep getting more complicated, more advanced, more built up, and more sophisticated. Weird.

SPF

Dark Timelessness Of Non-Existence

What in God's name am I? I don't mean what sort of animal. I'm quite certain I am human. But I mean, what is my personhood, my consciousness, my self-awareness, my attention? In short, what makes up my mind?

Am I my brain? If my brain were to be in somebody else, would I still be me? If my brain were sitting on a shelf (yet somehow kept alive and active), would I still be me?

I think, yes.

But what I can't wrap my brain around, is this: am I my brain, or do I inhabit my brain? All evidence seems to point to the idea that I merely am my brain. Yet, I don't believe it. They say that every psychological occurrence in my mind, every thought, is simultaneously a physiological event in the brain. Ok. But that doesn't explain me.

During brain surgeries, they have shown that when they stimulate a certain place in the sensory cortex of the brain, the person will feel a sensation corresponding with the place they stimulated. They might poke here, and the person will feel as if someone touched their hand. They might poke there, and the person will feel as if someone is tickling their toes.

I suppose then, that if the technology existed, a scenario like in The Matrix, is perfectly plausible. We could exist in a reality completely separate from reality by connecting our brains to the proper sensory inputs. Of course, we all know it will be the gaming industry who will invent it!

What if someday, then (I really believe this to be probable), we are all just brains sitting on a vast array of shelves, connected together, without the need for bodies, living in a real-as-reality virtual existence, where the discomforts of real-reality don't have to irritate us anymore, and we can make up any reality (or set of realities) we want? Who would need (or even want) the real world? Of course this has been the subject of science fiction novels for decades.

But my question is what exactly is sensation? I see the mechanism of sensation, but where is the point where the neurological message is received? Just because a neurological pathway is stimulated in my brain, where am I to receive that message? Light waves may enter my eye at a particular frequency, my retina will pick them up, and my optic nerve will send a signal to other nerves in my brain, but at some stage I experience color.

But where do the signals end up? What good is a message if there is no one to receive it? Is the neurological pathway transmitting data me? If a packet of binary information is sent across an Ethernet cable to a computer, the website is only rendered if that packet is received and interpreted, and eventually displayed in a web browser. What good is the cable sending signals to other cables? But all I see in the brain are the cables!

Am I the cables? Power cables being lit up with data, transmitting in circles? Who experiences the signals? Are the signals the experience? It's a complex pathway consisting of millions of nerves that activates and is flooded with electricity and neurotransmitters, and... then it stops. Who is on the receiving end of that message?

If the signal is the sensation, then do cables, computers and circuit boards sense?

Imagine I were to die. Ok. Now, say my brain was perfectly preserved. All brain activity has long ago ceased. Much later, one of those clever brain surgeons pokes something in my inactive sensory cortex, suddenly stimulating the sleeping neural pathway that would cause the feeling of my hand being touched. Now, if I am my brain, would I not feel that?! Even though I am not concious, even though I know nothing, would I not still experience that sensation?

If the message is the experience, then yes, in the dark timelessness of non-existence, I would indeed feel someone touch my hand!

But it makes no sense to me. How can the mere activation of neurological pathways cause me to sense anything? There must be a recipient of the messages, on the other side of the brain. I can only conclude that I inhabit my brain. How can the thing be self-aware? How can the cable feel?

This is a conundrum that has bothered me for many years, and I cannot properly articulate it with words. I've tried here, and I don't expect you to see what I see. How can I craft my words to stimulate the same neural pathways in your brain that have been stimulated in mine?

I feel trapped in here.

SPF

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Thoughts On Gandhi

Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi

I just read about how Gandhi led approximately a fifth of the world’s population to liberty, with a very unconventional approach: meekness. His commitment to non-violence later went on to inspire people like MLK.

Even though Gandhi didn’t at all identify himself a Christian, and clearly never really grasped the concept of grace or God’s forgiveness, Jesus’ sermon on the mount was one thing he strove to model his life after. In fact, he followed Christ’s teaching to such a degree that most Christians would call him radical. His life mimicked Christ’s in many ways (just read his biography next to a gospel account).

As he went on to transform an entire nation, armed with nothing but the humility of Christ, he read about every morning (in addition to his Hindu scriptures), the evidence of the power of Christ’s gospel of reconciliation is, in my mind, made overwhelmingly clear.

Now, here is what I am thinking. If to be “Christian” means to follow Christ in teaching and practice, is it possible that an “unbelieving heathen,” a Hindu even, could actually have been a more authentic Christian than many who name themselves Christian?

Just so the conservatives won’t accuse me of blasphemy, let me simply ask the question this raises: Which is more important, how correctly we believe or think about God (orthodoxy); or how we live and act in relation to God (orthopraxy)?

SPF