“In Defense of Non-Natural, Non-Theistic Moral Realism” Erik J. Wielenberg

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By John Milliken June 3, 2009

Main authors discussed: William Lane Craig, J.P. Moreland, Walter Sinnott-Armstrong, William J. Wainwright

The moral argument for theism tries to show the existence of God is necessary to explain or ground certain features of morality.  Wielenberg focuses on the version of this argument that holds moral realism is unsustainable without God. He suggests, on the contrary, that moral realism is no less plausible for an atheist.  His strategy is to show certain arguments theists raise against atheistic moral realism apply with equal force to their own position.

Wielenberg begins with a very brief overview of the account he wishes to defend.  He understands moral realism as the view that objective moral facts exist, in the sense that their truth does not depend upon human mental states.   Moral facts are non-natural because they cannot be reduced to natural, or supernatural, facts and properties.   Further, certain moral facts are necessarily true as well as “brute,” meaning “their obtaining is not explained by the obtaining of other states of affairs.” (25)  He calls these facts basic ethical facts, explaining “They come from nowhere, and nothing external to themselves grounds their existence; rather, they are fundamental features of the universe that ground other truths.” (26)  He gives little argument for most of this, claiming it as common ground with his theistic interlocutors.  The exception, of course, is the non-theistic part.  Accordingly, he turns his attention to the claim that objective moral truths require some sort of theistic grounding.

He examines the claim first in relation to supervenience, the thesis that any two states of affairs identical in their non-moral properties must be identical in their moral ones as well.  As Wielenberg notes, this sort of necessary connection can be mysterious: what is it that establishes the supervenience relationship?  William Wainwright claims supervenience looks implausible on the assumption of atheism, for their is nothing to explain the fact of this connection.  On his view, such necessary facts require an explanation, which theism is able to provide.

Wielenberg raises two objections to Wainwright.  First, theism traditionally holds God’s existence is a necessary fact, but can provide no explanation for it.  Thus it would appear Wainwright thinks his principle that necessary facts require explanation applies only to ethical facts, but Wielenberg can find no plausible argument for this seemingly ad hoc restriction.  Second, Wainwright does not successfully show theism is able to provide an explanation for the existence of all necessary ethical facts.  He attempts to do so by holding up Robert Adams’ account from Finite and Infinite Goods, but Wielenberg shows that it, like his own, posits the existence of brute, necessary ethical facts.  Since Adams argues that God is the good, and God is necessarily existent, then certain facts about the good will be necessarily true. (32)  In short, whereas Wainwright claims theism is better able to account for supervenience than atheism, Wielenberg claims the two views are on a par: both hold that the connection between at least some states of affairs and certain moral properties are brute facts not explicable in terms of anything else.

Wielenberg next turns his attention to William Craig and J.P. Moreland’s suggestion that atheistic moral realism is incoherent since it posits foundationless moral values whose manner of existence is hard to conceive.  What can it mean, they ask, for justice to “just exist”? Wielenberg’s answer is that it means certain states of affairs are the case.  (34) He continues, “The state of affairs that it is just to give people what they deserve obtains whether or not any people actually exist, just as various states of affairs about dinosaurs obtain even though there are no longer any dinosaurs.  In this way, my approach cashes out the idea of justice ‘just existing’ in terms of facts about justice.” (34)

Finally, Wielenberg consider’s Craig’s Karamazov-style assertion that without God nothing can really be right or wrong, and concludes it has at its root the conviction that moral facts must have foundations external to themselves.  He first replies that Craig does not argue for this claim about foundations but simply asserts it, effectively begging the question against views like Wielenberg’s. Moreover, he tries to show Craig’s own position fails to satisfy it.  Craig endorses a Divine Command view, which is supposed to provide an external source for claims about right and wrong in the commands of God.  Wielenberg argues, however, that God’s commands can create obligations only if certain other ethical facts not grounded in God’s commands–for example, facts about what constitutes legitimate authority–obtain.  These ethical facts not grounded in God’s commands lack the external foundation that Craig claims is necessary.

I would like to close by noting a potential problem with Wielenberg’s argument.  He claims both he and theists are committed to the existence of “substantive, metaphysically necessary, brute facts” about whose foundations it is “misguided” to ask. (26) The theist asserts the brute fact of God’s existence, whereas he asserts as brute facts certain ethical propositions, like “it is just to give people what they deserve.” (34) Now if we are wondering about the foundations of the first fact, we are probably interested in a causal story: who made God?  On the other hand, if we want to know about the foundations of facts about justice, we are not interested in a causal story but a conceptual one.  The absence of an appropriate story has very different implications in the two cases.  Even if there is no answer to the question of where God came from, it is still perfectly intelligible to talk about God’s attributes, actions, etc.   However, without a conceptual story about a claim like “it is just to give people what they deserve,” it is difficult to see how we are saying anything at all when we utter it.  A conceptual story would need to explicate in natural (or supernatural) terms what justice means and why giving people what they deserve counts as an instance of it.  This claim is controversial, of course, and there is no room to argue for it here. What I do think has been shown, however, is that Wielenberg has more work to do to show the brute ethical facts he advocates are on the same footing as the brute fact of God’s existence claimed by his theistic opponents.

Reviewed by John Milliken
Social Philosophy and Policy Center

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categories Faith and Philosophy

“Sober on Intelligent Design Theory and The Intelligent Designer” John Beaudoin

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By John Milliken January 21, 2009

Main authors discussed: Elliot Sober, Michael Behe, William Dembski

John Beaudoin responds to an article by Sober that appeared in a previous issue of Faith and Philosophy.* Sober’s position in that piece is that Intelligent Design Theory (IDT), when combined with independently plausible assumptions, entails the existence of a supernatural creator.  Thus, Sober concludes, IDT is not neutral on the subject of the identity of the designer, despite what many of its proponents claim. Beaudoin tries to show that Sober’s argument fails.
 
Beaudoin supplies a helpful summary of Sober’s argument, which I reproduce below.  Sober takes the first premise to be the central thesis of IDT.  The other steps in the argument, with the exception of number two, are supposed to be readily acceptable even by those who reject IDT.  (Sober presents an argument for the second premise that relies upon the way in which various components of mental life seem to depend upon one another):

  1. If a system found in nature is irreducibly complex, then it was caused to exist by an intelligent designer.
  2. Some of the minds found in nature are irreducibly complex.
  3. Therefore, some of the minds found in nature were caused to exist by an intelligent designer.
  4. Any mind in nature that designs and builds an irreducibly complex system is itself irreducibly complex.
  5. If the universe is finitely old and if cause precedes effect, then at least one of the minds found in nature was not created by any mind found in nature.
  6. The universe is finitely old.
  7. Causes precede their effects.
  8. Therefore, there exists a supernatural intelligent designer.

Beaudoin poses two questions in response to Sober’s argument.  First, does it succeed in showing that IDT entails a supernatural designer?  Second, if it does, what are the implications supposed to be for public policy issues?  He does not address the second of these questions (nor does Sober) except to point out that its answer depends upon further arguments in philosophy of science and constitutional law.
 
His answer to the first question is negative.  He begins by casting doubt on Sober’s claim that premise one is the central thesis of IDT, pointing out that Michael Behe–the main proponent of the concept of irreducible complexity–has been careful to restrict its operation to physical systems.  Beaudoin concludes that the first premise must at the very least be reformulated to read: “If a physical system found in nature is irreducibly complex, then it was caused to exist by an intelligent designer.” (435) He pushes the point further, however, arguing that even this reformulated statement does not represent the central thesis of IDT.   Instead, he thinks of IDT as making two basic claims.  The first is that there exist general rules for determining whether things are the product of intelligence and that attempting to articulate these rules “is the proper subject matter of what might be called the science of intelligent design.” (437) The second is that these rules yield the result that some structures we find in nature are the product of intelligence.  According to Beaudoin, the second of these is best thought of as the central thesis of IDT.  Notice that it makes no reference to irreducible complexity for, as he points out, there are various alternative arguments to the conclusion of design put forth within IDT.  

Now if we try to run Sober’s argument, using as the central claim of IDT that some structures found in nature are the product of intelligence, we are very unlikely, Beaudoin thinks, to find that a supernatural designer is entailed by any set of auxiliary premises Sober is willing to accept.  In particular, it would seem that one of those premises would have to be something like the following: “Intelligent designers cannot evolve through natural processes.”  Otherwise, Beaudoin’s proposal for the central thesis clearly leaves open the possibility of alien, but non-supernatural, intelligence being behind the design we find in nature.  Beaudoin concludes that Sober’s argument fails, except, perhaps, when applied to certain carefully-specified versions of intelligent design theory.

Reviewed by John Milliken
Bowling Green State University

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“The Voluntariness of Virtue – and Belief” James A. Montmarquet

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By John Milliken January 16, 2009

Main authors discussed: Robert Adams, Philippa Foot, William Clifford

Discussions of responsibility tend to center around issues of control, with the usual assumption being that the greater control we have over something the more responsibility we bear for it. James Montmarquet is interested particularly in responsibility for belief, which he argues is limited but nevertheless important. His suggestion is that we ought to think about control over belief in terms of our control over certain epistemic virtues. 

Montmarquet begins by describing three distinct levels of virtue that differ in the amount of freedom they allow to their possessor. Those with the least are a type of epistemic virtue that involves “qualities of cognitive effort.” (374) His main example here is open-mindedness. The middle level consists of what he calls motivational virtues, like courage. Finally, those virtues in which we have the greatest range of freedom are the “substantive moral virtues,” which include kindness and justice. This synopsis is admittedly brief; I will return to his discussion of these different levels in a moment.For now, I want to turn to three kinds of cases he thinks are particularly salient for a discussion of the voluntariness of belief. Though we often think of belief as involuntary, he claims, here are instances where people are held responsible for their beliefs: 
  1. We hold responsible when beliefs result in pernicious actions, as when a belief that stealing is okay leads to stealing or a mistaken belief that a ship is seaworthy leads to sending passengers to their deaths.
  2. Certain religious traditions teach that God holds individuals responsible for what they believe.
  3. We judge individuals blameworthy for holding beliefs we think they ought clearly to recognize as false.
Montmarquet argues that belief is not voluntary, if by that we mean under our direct control. On the other hand, it makes sense to hold people accountable for their beliefs because the epistemic virtues whose exercise, or lack thereof, in part controls the formation of our beliefs, are under our direct control. In his words: “On the account proposed here, belief is (relatively) ‘involuntary’ in that such virtues as are typically implicated in the formation and retention of belief – if they are subject to the will at all – are subject to it only in the very limited way described above, in section II. At the same time, belief is ‘voluntary’ in that these virtues are – if only in a very attenuated way – directly subject to the will.” (385) 

Part of this quotation needs to be explained. What is the “very limited way described above”? He is referring here to the epistemic virtues, which he thinks of as limited for two reasons. First, to attempt to exercise these virtues is to succeed in doing so; there is no difference, for instance, between trying to have an open mind and having an open mind. (375) Second, the vices that correspond to these virtues are in some sense self-correcting. When one becomes aware of being closed-minded, he suggests, this is itself the beginning of being open-minded. It would be useful here to give a more detailed account on the other two levels of virtue mentioned above and how he sees them differing from the epistemic virtues in terms of voluntariness. Unfortunately, his discussion of these matters is very obscure. It is not at all clear from his paper how the three levels can be clearly distinguished, nor how they form a continuum of voluntariness.

He closes his paper by addressing the three cases outlined above, showing how holding individuals in each case responsible for their beliefs makes sense in light of the epistemic virtues involved. Overall his account is interesting and suggestive, but in need of significant clarification in his discussion of the three categories of virtue.

Reviewed by John Milliken
Bowling Green State University

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“Locke on Competing Miracles” Travis Dumsday

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By John Milliken January 14, 2009

Main authors discussed: John Locke

An issue receiving much attention in contemporary philosophy of religion is how to think about the justification of belief in any particular religious doctrine given the fact of religious pluralism.  Travis Dumsday sheds some light on one aspect of this topic by drawing our attention to arguments Locke formulated in A Discourse of Miracles to address the problem of competing miracles that support incompatible religious traditions.  Dumsday’s article begins with an overview of Locke’s position, followed by a brief assessment.
Locke’s first move is to argue that competing miracles are a very rare phenomenon.  For one thing, he thinks that the only miracles that properly conflict are those explicitly connected to claims of divine revelation.  He has in mind cases where individuals claim to have a message from God and produce some miracle as evidence of their credibility. Occurrences of this  kind, he argues, are simply not to be met with in the literature of ancient Greece and Rome nor in modern polytheistic religions.  Dumsday tells us that Locke even thought claims of revelation backed by miracles only made sense within a monotheistic context, thought he does not give us enough of Locke’s argument for it to be entirely clear why.  It would seem that Locke thought polytheistic religions simply don’t make the kinds of claims–such as exclusivity–that require revelation  Thus confining the field to monotheism, Locke narrows the range of potential conflict to Zoroastrianism, Islam, Judaism, and Christianity.  The first, according to Dumsday, he dismisses out of hand while the founder of Islam, Mohammad, did not claim to have performed any miracles.  That leaves Judaism and Christianity, but the miracles alleged by each do not support conflicting revelations, but mutually supporting ones. Locke concludes there are no conflicting miracles in fact.  
Like any proper philosopher, however, Locke is interested in the hypothetical case: suppose there were conflicting miracles?  He suggests we apply two rules.  First, any supposed revelation (and hence the miracle that backs it up) can be dismissed if it conflicts with reason or with morality.  Should a conflict remain, the second rule is applied: accept the revelation supported by “the evident marks of a greater power” (418)  In other words, go with the bigger miracle. Locke thinks this is a reasonable procedure if one assumes both that the true God is omnipotent, and hence always able to produce the more powerful miracle, and also that God is benevolent, and hence unwilling to allow individuals to be misled by deceptive miracles.  
In his evaluation of Locke’s argument, Dumsday focuses chiefly on Locke’s efforts to show that the actual incidence of conflicting miracles is very low.  He agrees with the general point that any particular miracle, in order to conflict with another, must be connected explicitly with claimed revelation.  However, he does concede that a general pattern of well-attested miracles associated with a particular religion tends to confirm the truth of that religion, even if the individual miracles are not connected to claims of revelation.  He also points out that Hinduism, a polytheistic religion, is thought by some of its adherents to incorporate revelation supported by miracles.  In this case he thinks the conflict between these miracles and those claimed by Christianity can be helpfully addressed by applying Locke’s rule that the more significant miracle wins.  
Dumsday concludes by suggesting that Locke gives an account that looks persuasive in the context of his day, but that might appear much more problematic in our own.  The key liability that Locke faces, he thinks, is his reliance on a robust natural theology to establish claims such as monotheism and the benevolence of the creator.  For Locke uses the first of these conclusions of natural theology to immediately discredit supposed miracles in behalf of polytheistic revelations and the second as a key premise in his argument for always preferring the more significant miracle.    
 
Reviewed by John Milliken    
Bowling Green State University


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