Ethics Commentary Part III: Egoism and the Social Contract

Continuing from my last post, I come to the middle of The Elements of Moral Philosophy, and two chapters which come very close to the kind of philosophy I like. And then Rachels spends two chapters on a philosophy close to that which he believes in. Of course, he brings up a point that I think makes him a bit hypocritical, so I will mention that. This part of the book focuses mainly on interests: whose interests are important, what kind of interests are important, why interests matter in philosophy, and some of the main approaches to how we should balance interests.

Chapter 5: Ethical Egoism

This chapter looks at two different kinds of Egoism: Psychological and Ethical. The former is a more scientific idea, whereas the latter is a moral code. Psychological Egoism states that everyone works towards their own self-interest, all the time. We are always doing either what we want to do (which makes us feel good), or what will help us (making us feel good in the long run). Ethical Egoism, on the other hand, is the philosophy that weshould only do what benefits us. It is a morality that values only self-interest. Instead of helping others, Ethical Egoism calls on us to only help ourselves. Rachels gives the distinction: "It is one thing to say that people are self-interested and so our neighbors therefore will not give to charity. It is quite another thing to say that people oughtto be self-interested and so our neighbors ought not to give to charity."

Psychological Egoism has a lot going for it. It's an evolutionary idea; whatever creature does those things which lead to its survival...survives. So it only makes sense that, at this point in our development, we should be wired such that we seek out our own interests. If we only sought others' interests, we wouldn't survive in the wild, would we? (Sure, you could point out caring for young, but that's an extension of the self.) DNA looks out for its own, and in order for the species to have a good chance of continuing, each individual protects their own interests, so that there are more chances for reproduction.

Rachels doesn't actually touch on that, though. His first example is of Raoul Wallenberg, a Swedish businessman who, during World War II, volunteered to go to Hungary to persuade the government to stop sending Jews to death camps. When the government was taken over by the Nazis, and deportation continued, Wallenberg still helped Jews by issuing them Swedish Protective Passes, finding them places to hide, standing up for them when they were found, etc. He is credited with saving as many as 15,000 lives. Rachels gives other numerous examples, such as when people build homeless shelters, volunteer in hospitals, read to the blind, and give money to charity. But none of these things are problematic for Psychological Egoism. At all.

As for Wallenberg, Rachels gives one interpretation against altruism: "According to some of Raoul Wallenberg's friends, before traveling to Hungary, he was depressed and unhappy that his life wasn't amounting to much. So he undertook deeds that would make him a heroic figure." He even points out that Mother Theresa thought she was going to heaven for her acts of faith. Similarly, people may do other things, such as every example he gave previously, to improve their reputation or get a reward for the act. People volunteer because it makes them look good, especially on applications. Rich people give to charities because it makes them look good (think about it: they don't really need all that money anyway, so it's not that big a gesture. Unless they're giving so much that their own quality of living decreases...they're not really making a sacrifice. It's nice to give, but they're just passing out their surplus, which I personally think should be taken from them anyway if they're never gonna use it...in the form of higher taxes, that is). 

The other reason we do "altruistic" stuff? It makes us feel good. Rachels provides a story from the Springfield, Illinois, Monitor: 

"Mr. Lincoln once remarked to a fellow-passenger on an old-time mud coach that all men were prompted by selfishness in doing good. His fellow-passenger was antagonizing this position when they were passing over a corduroy bridge that spanned a slough. As they crossed this bridge they espied an old razor-backed sow on the bank making a terrible noise because her pigs had got into the slough and were in danger of drowning. As the old coach began to climb the hill, Mr. Lincoln called out, 'Driver, can't you stop just a moment?' Then Mr. Lincoln jumped out, ran back, and lifted the little pigs out of the mud and water and placed them on the bank. When he returned, his companion remarked: 'Now, Abe, where does selfishness come in on this little episode?' 'Why, bless your soul, Ed, that was the very essence of selfishness. I should have had no peace of mind all day had I gone on and left that suffering old sow worrying over those pigs. I did it to get peace of mind, don't you see?'"

Rachels doesn't see, and says that Abe "employs a time-honored tactic of Psychological Egoism: the strategy of reinterpreting motives." Personally, I see it as simply interpreting motives. Others see it as altruism, we see it as doing what makes you feel good. I believe Psychological Egoism is most likely correct. Heck, I certainly know that, given the choice, I would never do anything out of pure altruism. For a while, I tried never to do anything which helped others. As a result, I felt pretty shitty (and like only worrying about my interests might not be in my best interests). I once told my fiancée that I don't do stuff for other people for the thanks I will receive. But I had to amend that by pointing out that this wasn't out of some noble altruistic ideal, but simply because I know about Psychological Egoism. I'm not doing it for them, I'm doing it because it makes me feel good, or because it's become a habit (such as opening the door for people). There are some people who would do things for another reason: because others would be likely to help them in return. Personally, I tend not to fall into this category only because I don't like thinking that I am manipulating people (that would make me feel bad, after all. I mean, I'm not naive enough to think that I'm not manipulating them anyway, but I like to keep that to a minimum). Doing things that feel good, and are seen as good, generally makes life more enjoyable, and that's why I do it--not because it is "right," but because it feels "right."

Rachels brings up the point that, though there may be some trace of self-interest in every action we take, that doesn't mean there aren't also some altruistic intentions in there as well. It is entirely possible that our motives can be from self-interest, but it is equally possible that we are altruistic, or that we have a mixture of motives (in cases where I might think that something benefits me as well as others, and perhaps I see that as a bonus). Okay, that makes sense. Psychological Egoism doesn't prove anything; it's just a theory that sounds right. Either you agree with it or you don't. There's no reason to say it is "not a credible theory" just because you told us how one can disagree with it. Like the Lincoln example: just because the reasons behind his action can be interpreted either way doesn't mean that he's wrong in calling it Psychological Egoism--it just means that it's not conclusive either way.

Ethical Egoism is a whole 'nother beast. It's a selfish philosophy that approves only those acts which benefit oneself. You can help others only if you help yourself in the same instance. Rachels gives three arguments for Ethical Egoism, the first being the most contradictory. "The Argument That Altruism Is Self-Defeating" says that, when we try to help others, we screw up most of the time. Not only is it an intrusion into their privacy, but we don't perfectly know what others need, and thus we are likely to do more harm than good (and people we help become dependent, we are effectually saying they are incompetent of helping themselves, they will be resentful rather than appreciative, etc.). The argument, as Rachels summarizes it, is: "1) We ought to do whatever will best promote everyone's interests. 2) The best way to promote everyone's interests is for each of us to pursue our own interests exclusively. 3) Therefore, each of us should pursue our own interests exclusively."

Now, obviously this is a bit weird, since pursuing our own interests "exclusively" seems like it would disregard everyone else's interests. Technically, this argument says that we must be altruistic by caring only about ourselves. Rachels points this out, saying, "rather than being egoists, we turn out to be altruists with a peculiar view of what promotes the general welfare." But that doesn't mean anything's wrong with that theory, just that it's probably got the wrong name. Does it make sense? Well...I don't think so. Just because we screw up sometimes doesn't mean we shouldn't still attempt to help. If you don't help, there's a greater chance of things not working out. It's possible that we could make it worse, that the person will be resentful, but does that really mean we should never try? Any project has the possibility of failure, after all.

The second argument is from Ayn Rand. Her idea was that altruism is poisonous to our individuality. Rachels quotes her saying, "'If a man accepts the ethics of altruism, his first concern is not how to live his life, but how to sacrifice it.'" She, like me, valued the individual. But unlike me, she thought that altruism "does not take seriously the value of the individual." Because of this, she said that Ethical Egoism was the way to go, since it "does take the individual seriously--it is, in fact, the only philosophy that does." Rachels, smartly, points out that her argument only allows for two choices: Altruism or Ethical Egoism. There might be other choices, middle grounds that mix and balance interests (such as saying that one must help if it doesn't inconvenience them, one must help only if they are the only one who can, etc., with multiple exceptions to rules to accommodate the circumstances). It doesn't have to be as black-and-white as she proposes. Plus, if someone wants to be altruistic, that is part of their individuality.

The third says Ethical Egoism can be seen as a Commonsense Morality, kind of in the vein I used to talk about Psychological Egoism: don't harm others because they will harm you in return, and that won't be to your best interests. This makes it another Golden Rule, basically. Rachels points out that this doesn't actually give a reason why we shouldn't do "bad" stuff anyway, when we can get away with it...but I'll leave some of that stuff till the next chapter, since that's where it really belongs.

Then the arguments against...First, "Ethical Egoism Endorses Wickedness." Yes it does, Rachels. But, wonderfully, he actually says something reasonable here: "However, this objection might be unfair to Ethical Egoism, because in saying that these actions are wicked, we are appealing to a nonegoistic conception of wickedness." Really, Rachels? Are you sure? Because it was so fair when you did the same thing to the other philosophies that "endorsed wickedness" in some way.

Next, "Ethical Egoism is Logically Inconsistent." There is an example showing that Ethical Egoism can't work because people's interests clash. Kurt Baier gives some steps displaying two people in an election:

"1. Suppose it is each person's duty to do what is in his own best interest.

2. It is in D's best interest to kill R, so D will win the election.

3. It is in R's best interest to prevent D from killing her.

4. Therefore, D's duty is to kill R, and R's duty is to prevent D from doing it.

5. But it is wrong to prevent someone from doing his duty.

6. Therefore, it is wrong for R to prevent D from killing her.

7. Therefore, it is wrong and not wrong for R to prevent D from killing her.

8. But no act can be wrong and not wrong; that is a self-contradiction.

9. Therefore, the assumption with which we started--that it is each person's duty to do what is in his own best interest--cannot be true."

To his credit, Rachels points out the flaw: Baier has added his own rule, #5. Ethical Egoism doesn't say we can't prevent someone else from doing their duty. As such, it could end up being more of a case where it doesn't matter who prevails--they both did their duty and are right. So this argument doesn't work.

The last argument says that Ethical Egoism is "Unacceptably Arbitrary." Citing the Principle of Equal Treatment, Rachels likens Ethical Egoism to racism and sexism. The Principle of Equal Treatment says that "We should treat people in the same way unless there is a relevant difference between them." Now, I think this a good idea, and it feels nice and reasonable (notice how he points out racism, because that always wins people over). He even points out the use of fairness in the draft lottery. Everyone has the same chance. But then he talks about when you have two tickets to an event, and have to decide which friend to take with you. Picking one would be unfair to the others. But the main point he is making here is that racism favors one "race," sexism favors one sex over the other, and Ethical Egoism favors the self over everyone else.

The problem I see with this is that Ethical Egoism does have you treat everyone the same. You are caring for yourself out of care for others, and so this doesn't exactly match up. Perhaps you could say that racists and sexists have used that excuse before ("we're doing this for their own good"), and I suppose that's true. Makes me think of the way a dictator might care only for himself, allowing the country to fall into degradation. So I suppose it all hinges on whether or not Ethical Egoism would actually benefit everyone...which I doubt. Still, it could, and then this argument would be invalid.

Chapter 6: The Idea of a Social Contract

Ah, this one's got to be my favorite moral theory. Partly because it's connected to Thomas Hobbes, which always makes me think of Calvin and Hobbes...but also because this theory actually gives a decent reason why we should follow a moral code even if we assume that "right" and "wrong" don't exist. Hobbes's famous theory is that of the "state of nature," the eventual destiny of people without government. Anarchy, where everyone does as they please. Without rules, people take what they need, and kill those that get in their way. Life is "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short." In order to avoid such a life, we have the social contract.

The reason that the social contract works is because, as rational creatures, we realize that working together will increase our own chances of surviving and thriving. In the state of nature, we would have to constantly be wary of others, knowing they could kill us at any time. For this reason, a social contract must start with the condition that those involved cannot kill each other. If we agree to this, we all protect our own interests, as well as those of others. It's rational to agree, because it gives you safety. You agree to give up one freedom in order to protect your best interests, and that is the essence of social contract theory. Rachels ends the first section by summarizing it as, "Morality consists in the set of rules, governing behavior, that rational people will accept, on the condition that others accept them as well."

Then, to show another reason for the Social Contract, he goes into the Prisoner's Dilemma: You and Mr. Smith are accused of a crime, and taken aside separately for interrogation. But there are some weird rules to it: 

1. If Smith does not confess, but you do...you go free, and Smith gets 10 years in prison

2. If Smith confesses, but you don't...Smith goes free, and you get 10 years

3. If you both confess, you both get 5 years

4. If neither of you confess, you both get 1 year

The best choice is to confess, since you don't know what Smith will do. "Suppose Smith confesses. Then, if you confess you will get 5 years, whereas if you do not confess you will get 10. Therefore, if he confesses, you are better off confessing. On the other hand, suppose Smith does not confess. Then, if you confess you will go free, whereas if you do not confess you get one year. Therefore, if Smith does not confess, you will still be better off confessing." Rachels extends this dilemma to all morality. You can easily reason that it is best for you to look after your own interests exclusively, kinda like Ethical Egoism, except this isn't out of any desire to help others/keep the balance. "Either people will respect your interests or they won't. If they do respect your interests, you will be better off not respecting theirs, at least whenever that would be to your advantage... If they do not respect your interests, then it will be foolish for you to respect theirs... Therefore, regardless of what other people do, you are better off adopting the policy of looking out for yourself."

This makes perfect sense...except that it inevitably leads to the state of nature. And since we're not separated from others every single time we have to make a moral decision, we don't necessarily have to go that route. We can choose to realize the rational choices, and cooperate to choose something that is even better. If you and Smith, for instance, could come together and talk it out, you would obviously both confess, since that would be best for both of you. That, in a nutshell, is Social Contract Theory: people coming together to agree on what moral rules to follow in order to benefit everyone.

Rachels brings up the "Problem of Civil Disobedience," but it really isn't much of a problem, and Rachels does a good job of showing this. After all, the Social Contract isn't about "law" per se, but about mutual agreement for mutual benefit. Civil Disobedience is just a claim that the agreed-upon rules aren't mutually beneficial. Take civil rights for example (since everyone does). While centuries of discrimination may have benefited whites, slaves certainly got a bad deal, and even when African-Americans were seen as citizens, many laws still stood in their way. The civil rights movement was justified in saying that the laws weren't justified. Social Contract Theory doesn't prohibit civil disobedience; civil disobedience (when used correctly) reinforces Social Contract Theory. Kind of like what democracy is supposed to be: if the government/law doesn't help the people, the people should abolish it in favor of one that does.

But then Rachels gives some "difficulties" with Social Contract Theory. First is that it is "based on a historical fiction." Which is a silly argument, by the way. As I have already talked about, self-interest is an evolutionary quality, one which was arrived at by the workings of nature, hence the phrase "state of nature." We just need to look at the way civilizations started to see that, once there was more cooperation, things started moving smoother, and quality of life increased overall. So no, it's not based on one contract signed thousands of years ago, but who ever said it was? It's based on logic.

Though this point does remind me of something which I frequently think about: the fact that we are not bound by our past. I mean, sure, we're genetically bound by our past, we're economically and geographically bound by our past, but we can make our own decisions now in the present, and those actions taken by others years, decades, centuries and millennia before shouldn't force any course of action, or any guilt, onto us. That's the reason I feel whites shouldn't have to apologize for slavery--none of those who participated in it back then are even alive anymore. We didn't do it. Sins of the father are only sins of the father, and no one else. Now, reparations may still be in order because of the long-term effects we're still feeling, but there should be some recognition of that fact nonetheless. I'm of German descent, but I don't feel guilty about the Holocaust. (Heck, I'm also of African-American descent, so I should be pissed about the slavery I didn't experience as well, eh? Guilt and righteous indignation? And I'm pretty sure I've got some Native American in there too...)

But I digress. Rachels comes close to this by talking about the contract like a "game" that you join. But, of course, that suggests you chose to join, which none of us did. The Social Contract Theorist could, of course, fall back on the argument "if you don't want to play, then leave," but that's really not fair, since so much of the world and its resources are run by the system. So I guess this is one thing to think about, though it doesn't entirely go against the theory since joining the game is in itself for your best interest, unless you can always avoid the authorities and ever needing medical attention, without fail. It would be rational to join the system/game, and thus the theory would say you should do so. Does this give you a choice to "agree"? Yes. So Rachels is wrong when he says this "abandons the idea that morality is based on agreement."

The second objection is about those parties that "cannot benefit us." Rachels lists them as "Human infants, Nonhuman animals, future generations, and oppressed populations." Now, I have to say again that this doesn't make any sense for Rachels to say, simply because it doesn't cause a problem for the theory. So we don't care about the offspring that can't benefit us. So what? That's part of the theory, and it's logical. I won't be around to see my great-great-great-great-great grandchildren, let alone benefit from helping them (unless we hurry up and find a way of prolonging life), and so I have no logical reason to care about the things which affect them.

My take on this:

Human infants -- No, we don't owe them anything, unless we think that keeping them safe helps us (don't hurt someone else's babies, or they'll hurt you; don't hurt a child that will grow up to hurt you; don't hurt them if you think there's a good chance of them helping you in the future, such as your own child who can take care of you in your old age). Since this one has so many exceptions, I'd say it really doesn't make Social Contract Theory all that disturbing. But if you find an orphan somewhere, and know that no one knows about it, or will ever know about it (which you can't guarantee), its parents and extended family are dead, etc...go ahead.

Animals -- Keeping them alive does benefit us, if only for food, testing, and keeping a balanced ecosystem. I think it's kinda stupid for Rachels to even bring them up, seeing as their survival does help us in so many ways. Plus, there are animals that would attack us if we did stuff to them, so it's not always in our best interests to do so.

Future generations -- As mentioned above, who cares? I mean, they do, but since that won't affect you at all, it shouldn't matter. Makes perfect sense not to care a bit about them. Unless, of course, you run into people who are young and care about what you do to their future community.

Oppressed populations -- Really, Rachels? After all that stuff about the civil rights movement? Yes, perhaps you can benefit from enslaving somebody, but that's just inviting them to rebel. And who are you to say that cooperating with other cultures can't benefit you more than enslaving them? You could learn new things that could benefit your society, you could add willing workers to your projects (which would benefit you because they wouldn't be likely to hurt you/run away in the course of their employment), and you could perhaps learn of dangers in the region from them instead of learning firsthand...the hard way. There could be situations where slavery would be more beneficial to you, and I suppose then there wouldn't be any problem...(heck, you could say that everyone in the world is enslaved by the Social Contract anyway, since the other choice is a sucky life and/or death.) His idea that Social Contract Theory would allow us to harm people who don't benefit us, though, kinda goes against the whole point of the theory: harming them would be something you would do in the state of nature. So instead of saying that noncooperation makes the most sense in this theory, he should instead be looking at colonization as an opportunity to create a new contract.

Another thing I envisioned while in the class was that perhaps we should extend the definition of the Social Contract to include future generations. But now that I think about it, that's really just a silly notion brought about by my own squeamishness. Social Contract Theory has no reason to promote environmental issues that don't affect our generation. But that doesn't mean the theory is a bad one. Rachels says that "it seems unable to recognize the moral duties we have to individuals who cannot benefit us." But of course, he fails to realize that since that's the point of the theory, it isn't a problem. 

Ethics Commentary Part II: Subjectivism and Divine Command Theory

Chapter 3: Subjectivism in Ethics

Here's where I began to dislike Rachels's approach. He says that the main thought behind Ethical Subjectivism is that, "People have different opinions, but where morality is concerned, there are no 'facts,' and no one is 'right.' People just feel differently, and that's all there is to it." Now, this is something I believe pretty firmly. After all, if no tangible "right" or "wrong" can be found, then we have no reason to think they are anything but abstract ideas that we simply made up. Rachels, however, seems to think he can find problems with the theory.

He starts by talking about Simple Subjectivism, in which any moral statement is nothing more than a statement of approval or disapproval. When someone says "X is morally acceptable," or "X is good," what they are saying is "I approve of X." Rachels, for some reason, thinks this is a problem.

First, he points out that Simple Subjectivism "cannot account for disagreement." If one side is saying "I approve of this" and the other side is saying "I disapprove of this," then there's really no disagreement. They agree that one of them approves and one of them disapproves. He says, "There is a kind of eternal frustration implied by Simple Subjectivism: [they] are deeply opposed to one another, yet they cannot even state their positions in a way that gets at the issue." My thought, of course, is...so what? You could just change your definition of disagreement (they are on different sides, thus they disagree). Otherwise, does this really matter?

Second, Rachels says that "We are sometimes wrong in our moral evaluations. But if Simple Subjectivism were correct, this would be impossible." The exception he gives is if the person saying they approve or disapprove is lying (in which case, we're not always right, Rachels. Gosh, listen to yourself once). Again, I have to say...so what? Part of what annoys me so much about Rachels is that he doesn't seem to grasp that, within the context of the individual theories, such things as these make perfect sense, and don't pose any problem whatsoever. According to this theory, we are as consistently correct about morality as we are correct about whether or not we like a certain sports team, whether we enjoyed a certain movie, or whether we like certain foods. Does Rachels have a problem with us being consistently correct about these things as well? After all, unless we lie, we're always going to be right (and, similarly, it is possible that we may change our minds over all of these things, just as we may change our minds about moral issues). And, with those examples, you can argue the same thing about disagreement. I can think a movie is good, and someone else can think it's bad. We can agree that we both have our own opinions on it, but at the same time we are disagreeing about the quality of the movie. Neither of us can be right or wrong, since it's a subjective thing. Just substitute morality for movies, and there you go. Where's the problem, Rachels?

From here, he pretends that he's given sufficient reasons for the theory to be revised, and moves on to talk about the "second stage," called Emotivism. This philosophy basically starts by pointing out that language is used in numerous ways, one of which is to make statements: fact-stating language. Emotivism holds that moral language is not fact-stating language. Instead, it is akin to exclamations or commands. Rachels gives some silly examples. I'll give my favorite... Fact-stating language would be to say, "Gas prices are rising." An exclamation would (in parallel to that topic) be to say, "Aaargh!" It would make sense to say, "It is true that gas prices are rising." It would not make sense to say, "It is false that aaargh." See? Also, there are commands, such as Rachels's commonly mentioned "Don't be gay!" That sentence, a command, cannot be true or false. And according to Emotivists, that is also true of all moral language.

He goes into some crap about the whole disagreement thing, showing how Emotivism gets around that by showing we disagree "in attitude." I think the whole disagreement thing is ridiculous, though, so unless someone can give me a reason why that's even relevant, I'll move on. Right after that, Rachels makes a huge mistake by showing his presuppositions in the blatant fashion that made me want to write this in the first place. He says that Emotivism gets around the original problem about "always being right" by saying that no one's right or wrong, but just expressing emotion. He doesn't like this, and asserts, "Although we're not always right in our evaluations, we're right some of the time. Sometimes our moral judgments are true and sometimes they are false." My first reaction to this, reasonably, was "What. The. Fuck." Emotivism is a Skeptic philosophy. You can't evaluate it objectively if you work from the premise that an objective moral truth exists that we can be right or wrong about. It just doesn't work that way, Rachels.

As for his whole "Role of Reason in Ethics" section, I don't need much to shoot him down. He says, "A moral judgment--or for that matter, any kind of value judgment--must be supported by good reasons. Any adequate theory of ethics should be able to explain how reasons can support moral judgments." One word: Why? Emotivism points out that moral language is all about the expression of emotion. No right or wrong. Thus, no reason necessary.

He pretty much says, in the end of this chapter, that it is a logical fallacy to argue that ethics are either tangible or non-existent. He says that another alternative is possible: that ethics come from reason. This point is entirely superfluous, though. I'll explain later, in my last post about this book, what I think about ethics from reason (in some detail). For now, I'll just say that Rachels presumes a lot by saying that Subjectivism is somehow flawed for not including the possibility for reason-based ethics. Sure, we can use reason to direct our actions, but that doesn't mean we should. That is simply something Rachels approves of.

Chapter 4: Does Morality Depend on Religion?

Short answer: Pretty much. Our perspective on life comes from morals. Our morals comes from our philosophy. Our Philosophy comes from our logic. Logic works on absolutes. And absolutes come from our beliefs. Our beliefs about what is absolute, then, shape our perspective on life. It only follows that, as beliefs differ, so do moral codes. It's never that simple, though. No two Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Satanists, Atheists, Agnostics, Jainists, etc., are exactly the same. Everyone has very specific beliefs within their overt belief system. For example, my fiancée and I don't believe in God, but whereas I have no morals, she has lots of them (the way I act, though, usually follows a code similar to hers--I just don't see that code as being objectively correct in any way, and if I felt like deviating from it, I wouldn't consider that a bad thing). Specifics of how we view the world make our moral codes different. So, at the end of the day, yes, morality depends on religion, if you take that to mean beliefs in general.

As to what Rachels says, I mostly agree with him in this chapter. He provides two possibilities for morality coming from God, quoting Socrates: "Is conduct right because the gods command it, or do the gods command it because it is right?". First is Divine Command Theory, which states that morality comes from God: "Whether something is right or wrong is perfectly objective: It is right if God commands it and wrong if God forbids it." It even gives you a reason to be moral: you will be judged in the end, so you should do what God says (of course, that's problematic in my opinion, since you'd have to give a reason for God's authority). But, of course, Rachels has a big problem with this philosophy.

That problem, simply, is that it doesn't give any reason why the actions themselves are wrong. In Divine Command Theory, all that matters is what God wants. If he says it's wrong, it's wrong. But why is it? No reason at all. Morality, then, becomes entirely arbitrary. Which is what I personally don't like about the theory. Though I still don't think that is technically a "problem" with it. It just makes God a capricious dictator. Divine Command Theory could still be right, it'd just make God look bad (and if Divine Command Theory is right, then all God does is good, so judging him by any other standard is pointless).

The problem I have with how Rachels approaches this is in his third problem with it. He uses the example of child abuse, saying, "First, notice something the theory implies: If God didn't exist, child abuse wouldn't be wrong. This is so because if God didn't exist, then God wouldn't be around to make child abuse wrong. However, child abuse would still be malicious, so it would still be wrong." No, Rachels, it wouldn't. If no rule exists, no wrongness can exist. While it is true that Divine Command Theory denies any intrinsic moral value to an action, the fact that we feel bad about certain actions doesn't mean they have intrinsic moral value. As he points out, Atheists have no reason to follow Divine Command Theory. No God and no afterlife means that morality doesn't matter in that capacity. The only real reason for morality outside of God's dominion is to keep other people satisfied, so they don't hinder you. In an Atheistic point of view, no objective moral truth exists. It is completely possible, then, that child abuse is not wrong. (Of course, all of this supposes that Divine Command Theory is true; if there is no God, then it's kind of pointless to even go into that. An objective moral truth could still exist, and non-religious Realist philosophy is based on that assumption.)

The second possibility is easier to swallow. The idea is that God, being perfect, merely observes objective moral truth in the universe, and commands us to follow it. God, being good, always follows the right moral code, and wants us to as well. Of course, this gets a little complicated when you think of how he goes about making us do the right thing. Is it morally right to send those who don't believe in you to Hell? Heck, it must be, if that's what he does. But besides that, if morality is outside of God, then that means there is something he doesn't have power over. He is not omnipotent. And he has no free will, forced to do the right thing.

Rachels goes then to Natural Law Theory, the idea that morality is inside nature already. Which I always thought was silly. It brings up the fact that some people call homosexuality wrong because it's "not natural." What I have to say about such things is that...if it happens, it is natural. Everything is in nature, therefore every action taken is natural. As such, "Natural Law" just seems like a completely nebulous idea to me. Whatever we do is right, whatever we don't do is wrong. To be fair, the theory is really about the idea that God created a natural order, and that should be the basis for morality. But that's a pretty simplistic, maintain-the-status-quo kind of position. Does it work? Sure, if we could strictly define what the natural order is. But that seems to always be changing. And if it's changing all the time (such as women becoming more equal to men), then how do we decide when something is wrong? Maybe it's just the next step in creating the new natural order.

I'll end this section here.

What I feel Rachels doesn't grasp in these first four chapters is something which I will refer to as "internal validity," a term used for experiments when the results are valid within the study itself, and not necessarily in other settings. Each philosophy given has its own internal validity--that is to say, they all "work" within their own set of founding beliefs. That is the nature of logic. You plug in absolutes, and you come up with a rational moral theory. The problem with Rachels is that he looks at these philosophies from a Realist perspective, and thus finds problems that aren't there. He hasn't done anything to debunk these theories, only shown us why a Realist wouldn't like them. As a complete and utter Agnostic, I have no absolutes. As such, I have no strict moral code. I can look at other moral codes with objectivity, and thus evaluate them upon their own merit, acknowledging their internal validity.

Ethics Commentary Part I: Morality and Cultural Relativism

This is a note I wrote on Facebook over a year ago. It's about the book I had to read for my Ethics class. I planned on making it a three-parter, but I only wrote two of them before I got...well, tired of it. I guess the problem was that the main reason for them was addressed in the first two sections of the book, and I didn't have the motivation to continue. So, for this blog, I will post those two notes (and perhaps make some small changes to them), and then finally go back and finish the third part. EDIT: I will change the way these are sectioned off, since these notes are pretty big. There will be two chapters per post. I hope you enjoy reading them, and that they entertain, inform, and/or inspire you.

To start, here's part one:

In my Ethics class, we read The Elements of Moral Philosophy, by James Rachels (the sixth edition by Stuart Rachels). The focus of the class was on learning about the inner workings of some of the more basic and/or prevalent philosophies out there. I was suspicious of such a class at first, remembering the massive amount of nothing I learned in Morality class in high school, but as the class began to pick up speed, I really enjoyed it. Until we got to the chapter on Subjectivism and Emotivism.

It shouldn't have taken me this long to start having a problem with the text, seeing as it treated Cultural Relativism in a similar manner, but...the main problem I had with the book was that the author wasn't objective enough. Sure, no one's ever entirely objective, but I felt like he was making flimsy arguments. And in our two exams in the class, he specifically told us not to write about how we felt, and I found myself pointing out in my writing--a lot more than was necessary--that it was Rachels who thought there were problems with the theories, and not me.

So I couldn't resist writing just what I thought about these things. I will go through the 13 chapters of the book, and respond to Rachels. This will be a seven-part post, with two chapters per post and one whole post for the last chapter. Here, I will start with the first two chapters.

Chapter 1: What Is Morality?

 This chapter brings up three cases, and shows different reactions to them. Baby Theresa, a child born only with a hind brain, destined to die very soon, could have her organs removed to save other children. Jodie and Mary, conjoined twins, have one fatal problem: Mary leeches off of Jodie to the extent that they can't both live; either Mary must be killed to save Jodie, or they both die. And Tracy Latimer, a child with cerebral palsy killed by her father out of pity for the painful condition she was in.

He then uses the rest of the chapter to talk about impartiality, and how "The morally right thing to do is always the thing best supported by the arguments." While that sounds nice, it doesn't really work all the time. After all, perhaps the arguments on both sides are horrible. Or the thing which turns out to be right has the worst arguments going for it. Take Divine Command Theory, for instance. If God's decrees made things right, then the arguments one could make about the action itself wouldn't matter at all.

But I do like the idea that we should be reasonable about morality, instead of allowing our feelings to dictate our actions. We must be discretionary agents, and I agree with Rachels there. Personally, my answers to the three cases are as follows:

1. Take Baby Theresa's organs. She's not really experiencing anything, so you shouldn't have any qualms about hurting her anyway. And if you don't, you're just letting other kids die with her. So why not?

2. Kill Mary. If you don't, they're both gonna die. Would you rather have one child or none?

3. He didn't do anything wrong. Tracy had a miserable life (the book goes into detail about the immense amount of pain, and her life was gonna suck. It's basically a case of euthanasia in which she didn't have the capacity to ask for it). I wouldn't do this myself, though, since I don't want to go to jail like he did.

Are all of these answers reasonable? Sure. By my logic, they make perfect sense. One of the problems with linking morality to reason is that the conclusions reached through reason are subjective. I'll approach this concept many times again.

Chapter 2: The Challenge of Cultural Relativism

Cultural Relativism is a philosophy that pretty much says, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." Morality, in this context, exists in those things which your specific culture deems correct. Rachels explains the argument in this fashion:

"1) Different cultures have different moral codes.

2) Therefore, there is no 'objective' truth in morality. Right and wrong are only matters of opinion, and opinions vary from culture to culture."

Rachels makes a good point about the failure of this argument. Simply, just because people disagree about morality doesn't mean that objective truth in morality doesn't exist. All it means is that people disagree. The problem I have with Rachels, however, comes when he explains other problems with the theory. Of course, this is something he falls into a lot when he points out "problems."

1. "We could no longer say that the customs of other societies are morally inferior to our own." Yes, Rachels, congratulations, you figured out what Cultural Relativism is. This objection basically states the whole point of the theory, saying that it's a problem. He talks about the slaughter of protesters in Tiananmen Square, obviously trying to use pathos to show that we should look down on such practices, therefore the theory must be wrong. Something which he does incessantly. Yes, Rachels, your morality would say we must condemn the Chinese government for such an action. But Cultural Relativism says we can't. That's how the theory works, okay?

2. "We could no longer criticize the code of our own society." Again, major duh. He does slightly improve by pointing out that this would bar us from changing our society, but of course by CR's standards, that wouldn't matter.

3. "The idea of moral progress is called into doubt." No, really? The idea of "progress" itself, in my opinion, is unfounded Realist talk. As I have said many times before, "progress" is merely an idea without substance. Things don't progress, they change. So ending that change doesn't necessarily mean anything bad is gonna happen. So we stop "progressing." CR wouldn't see any problem with that, so it's not a problem with the theory. (In my Environmental Lit class, we specifically challenged the ideal of "progress," pointing out its detrimental affect on social structures and the planet as a whole.)

I do like, however, the next section of the chapter, which brings up a valid point: a lot of cultures have the same core values, if not the same moral code. Talking about a culture in which cows are sacred because our ancestors could be reborn into them, Rachels explains it this way: "We agree that we shouldn't eat Grandma; we disagree about whether the cow could be Grandma." He even gives the example of the Eskimos, who kill infants, especially girls, in order to maintain the balance in their society. Which brings me to what I like about Cultural Relativism: the fact that it is, to some extent, a discretionary discipline. While our society doesn't need to kill infants, the Eskimos do. Thus, it is a practical moral code for them, and we shouldn't judge them poorly for doing what we wouldn't--and don't need to--do.

And another thing: Rachels brings up Fauziya Kassindja, a 17-year-old from Togo that came to America hoping to escape a cultural practice of her people--excision (or female genital mutilation). Rachels uses this to point out how much we might think condemning other cultures makes sense. But I use it, instead, to say that we should be allowed to leave a culture that we don't like. Cultural Relativism might say that we can't condemn a culture, but that doesn't mean we have to remain in it. I suppose you could say that some cultures might see it as morally right to stay within your culture, but...so what? Be wrong, then. I envision CR bringing about a world where people can pick and choose which country they live in to suit their own moral interests. This would be complicated, but at least it makes sense of this example.

Rachels never mentions this, but my teacher, Tim Hansel, actually gave a problem with CR that I think is valid: what, really, defines a "culture"? Obviously there are countries, but what about groups within a country? Families, groups of friends, institutions, communes, etc. I think about it as an analogy to the way law works--on both federal and state levels. But with morality, it's a lot more complicated. If my country says one thing is wrong, but my family holds it to be right, which takes precedence? Of course, this argument is a little muddy (you could just say that all these inner cultures should conform to the main culture, or you could say that country-cultures just don't exist, then), but it could be a defining area for Cultural Relativists.