The Moral Argument for God’s Existence

Editor’s note: Adam Johnson has graciously allowed us to republish lecture, “The Moral Argument for God’s Existence.” Find the original post here.


The moral argument for God’s existence says that God exists because He is the best explanation for the fact that there are objective moral truths. Unlike the first-cause and design arguments, the moral argument is not based primarily on scientific evidence. Rather, it is based on the premise that objective morality is self-evident – we intuitively know that some things are right and others are wrong. Objective morality means that there are moral truths that exist beyond anybody’s own individual preferences, beliefs, or opinions. So, if morality is objectively real, what’s the best explanation for it? Where does it come from? Morality seems to be of a personal nature, and so it would make sense that morality comes from a personal source, but some atheist philosophers like Erik Wielenberg now argue that even though morality is objective, it doesn’t need a personal source. However, Adam believes that the description of God as a trinity in loving relationships provides the best explanation for the existence of objective morality.


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Adam Lloyd Johnson serves as a university campus missionary with Ratio Christi. He also teaches classes for Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and spends one month each year living and teaching at Rhineland Theological Seminary in Wölmersen, Germany. Adam received his PhD in Theological Studies with an emphasis in Philosophy of Religion from Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary in 2020.

Does the Incommensurability of Prudential and Impartial rationality avoid the dualism of Practical Reason?

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Editor’s note: This article was originally posted at MandM. It has been posted here with permission of author.


I have been discussing the dualism of practical reason. As I understand it, this is an inference from three premises:

[1] We always have most reason to do what is morally required

[2] An act is morally required if and only if it is impartially demanded: demanded by rules justified from a perspective of impartial benevolence.

 [3] If there are cases where, what is impartially demanded of a person, is an action contrary to their long-term self-interest, then the strongest reasons do not always favour what is impartially demanded.

The conclusion: unless we assume that requirements of self-interest never substantially conflict with impartial demands, we can only coherently affirm [1] and [2]. Seeing [1] is a plausible thesis about the authority of requirements, and [2] is a plausible thesis about their content.  Our fundamental moral intuitions about morality cannot be reconciled.

One response to this argument is to deny [3]. This involves contending that impartial requirements are overriding: If impartial and prudential requirements clash, the former always take precedence. In my last post, I mentioned an argument made by Stephen Layman against this contention.   Layman asks us to consider the case of Ms Poore;

Stephen Layman

Stephen Layman

Ms. Poore has lived many years in grinding poverty. She is not starving, but has only the bare necessities. She has tried very hard to get ahead by hard work, but nothing has come of her efforts. An opportunity to steal a large sum of money arises. If Ms. Poore steals the money and invests it wisely, she can obtain many desirable things her poverty has denied her: cure for a painful (but nonfatal) medical condition, a well-balanced diet, decent housing, adequate heat in the winter, health insurance, new career opportunities through education, etc. Moreover, if she steals the money, her chances of being caught are very low, and she knows this. She is also aware that the person who owns the money is very wealthy and will not be greatly harmed by the theft. Let us add that Ms. Poore rationally believes that if she fails to steal the money, she will likely live in poverty for the remainder of her life. In short, Ms. Poore faces the choice of stealing the money or living in grinding poverty the rest of her life. In such a case, I think it would be morally wrong for Ms. Poore to steal the money; and yet, assuming there is no God and no life after death, failing to steal the money will likely deny her a large measure of personal fulfillment, i.e., a large measure of what is in her long-term best interests[1].

Layman takes this case to illustrate that impartial requirements are not overriding.  If there are cases where impartial demands require us to make a great sacrifice that confers relatively modest benefits on others, the strongest reasons do not support complying with impartial demands.[2] 

Peter Bryne has criticised Layman’s example. He writes:

Layman’s way of approaching his moral argument suggests the following picture: rational agents are aware of a variety of reasons for action. They see prudential reasons vying with moral reasons. They measure whether moral reasons for doing something outweigh prudential reasons for not doing it, and they follow that set of reasons which is stronger overall. Now it is time to ask the question “From what standpoint does Layman’s rational agent weigh or measure reasons for action?[3] 

Bryne thinks this is question raises an important challenge:

The unclarity in the language of weighing reasons for action, and of judging which reasons are stronger than others, lies in the fact that such language implies a common, neutral means of measuring the reasons. The very contrast, however, between morality and self-interest suggests that there can be no such means. The agent is faced with a choice between points of view and perspectives. From within a point of view or perspective, there can be weighing. What remains a mystery is how any agent could measure the relative strengths of the two kinds of consideration from neither the moral or prudential point of view but from a neutral standpoint.[4]

Bryne’s criticism seems to be this. Layman example imagines an agent “weighing” impartial reasons against prudential reasons against each other and attempting to answer the question as to which reasons are stronger or take precedence. This implies there is some rational perspective, which is neutral between prudence and impartial demands, which can weigh and adjudicate them in a conflict. 

Bryne thinks this is misleading. The clash between prudential and impartial reasons involves a clash between requirements justified by incommensurable points of “points of view” or “perspectives”. These points of view are perspectives on what interests to take into account and how much weight to give them. The impartial point of view is a perspective that takes into account everyone’s interests and forms a conclusion based on giving these interests equal weight and consideration. From this point of view, you always have decisive reasons to do what is impartially required. By contrast, the prudential point of view is a view that only gives takes into account the interest of the individual agent and gives equal weight to the future and past interests of this individual agent. From this perspective, you should always act in your long-term self-interest. 

Because these are differing perspectives on what interests to take into account and how much weight to give conflicting interests, there can be no question-begging way of weighing the conclusions of each procedure against each other. You can weigh reasons for and against actions in accord with one or more of these perspectives. You can have allegiance to one or both perspectives, and weigh from that perspective. One can also give up allegiance to one perspective in favour of another. But, when they clash, you cannot accept both perspectives simultaneously and weigh them against each other. 

I am inclined to think Byrne’s response here misses the point. Consider how Ms Poore’s case appears on Bryne’s analysis. Ms. Poore “faces the choice of stealing the money or living in grinding poverty the rest of her life”. However, you analyse this; she still has to choose what to do in this situation; she must act one way or the other. In Bryne’s terms, we can ask Which perspective should she use in making the decision and weighing the relevant factors. Which point of view should she give allegiance to? Which should she give up allegiance to? Bryne’s analysis seems to imply there is no reason one can give for or against either answer. There is no “rational” or “neutral point of view” by which she can make this choice. The implication is that Ms Poore does not have stronger or weightier reasons to do what is impartially required. This isn’t because prudential reasons sometimes outweigh or trump impartial reasons, but because one cannot coherently claim one is weightier than the other without begging the very question at issue. 

Concerns about the dualism of practical reason are concerns about a specific sort of practical dilemma. Suppose it is not always in one’s long-term self-interest to act according to impartial demands. This will mean impartial demands sometimes come into conflict with prudential requirements. When they do, we face the question: What reason is there to act impartially, rather than in one’s self-interest. What reason do we have for assuming that impartial demands are always stronger or weightier than prudential requirements when the two clash? The concern is that no answer to this question is forthcoming. If impartial and prudential requirements cannot be weighed against each other, then its hard to see how the former can always be weightier or take precedence in a clash. If they are incommensurable, we cannot have reasons for preferring one to the other.

Several commentators argue that this is precisely Sidgwick’s point when he agonised over the dualism of practical reason[5]. Note the argument Sidgwick gives for [3]

[U]nless the egoist affirms, implicitly or explicitly, that his own greatest happiness is not merely •the rational ultimate end for himself but •a part of universal good; and he can avoid the ‘proof’ of utilitarianism by declining to affirm this. Common sense won’t let him deny that the distinction between himself and any other person is real and fundamental; so it puts him in a position to think: ‘I am concerned with the quality of my existence as an individual in a fundamentally important sense in which I am not concerned with the quality of the existence of anyone else’; and I don’t see how it can be proved that this distinction ought not to be taken as fundamental in fixing the ultimate goal of an individual’s rational action… If an egoist isn’t moved by what I have called proof, the only way of arguing him into aiming at everyone’s happiness is to show that this gives him his best chance of greatest happiness for himself. And even if he admits that the principle of rational benevolence is self-evident, he may still hold •that it is irrational for him to sacrifice his own happiness to any other end;[6] 

Here, Sidgwick imagines an “egoist”: someone who has “given allegiance” to the prudential point of view and weighs reasons in accord with this perspective. This egoist discovers that an impartial point of view would prohibit some action. Does the egoist have any reason to heed this prohibition? Sidgwick argues that, unless it can be shown that doing so is in his interest, the answer is no. From the egoist’s “perspective” or “point of view,” the effects of the action on his long-term interests is the only factor that carries weight in the decision. Providing does not implicitly give allegiance to an impartial point of view, or he is willing to give up any allegiance he does have to it; he will have no reason to do what is impartially required. Nor does he have any question-begging reason why he should switch allegiance to this point of view. 

On this interpretation: the dualism of practical reason is the problem that impartial and prudential requirements are requirements justified from incommensurable points of view. Because human beings recognise both prudential and impartial reasons for acting in their practical reasoning, they implicitly give allegiance to both. This is not a problem if their requirements are consistent. But if they contradict each other, we will be rationally committed both to both doing and not doing the same action. The incommensurability of these perspectives means there is no rational basis for resolving the contradiction in favour of impartiality. Sidgwick writes:

[W]here we find a conflict between self-interest and duty, practical reason, being divided against itself, would cease to be a motive on either side. The conflict would have to be decided by which of two groups of non-rational impulses had more force. So we have this: •The harmony of duty and self-interest is a hypothesis that is required if we are to avoid a basic contradiction in one chief part of our thought.[7]

We can put it this way: Either prudential and impartial reasons are commensurable, or they are incommensurable. If they are commensurable, then when these requirements clash, we will need some reason for thinking that impartial reasons are always weightier. The Ms Poore case suggests this is not the case. By contrast, suppose that prudential and impartial requirements are incommensurable perspectives, and we cannot weigh them against each other. If they clash, we will have to choose which perspective to follow, and we will have no reason to follow one or the other. It will simply be an arbitrary act of allegiance. Either way, we will lack decisive reasons always to do what is impartiality required.

[1] C. Stephen Layman “God and the Moral Order” Faith and Philosophy, 23 (2006): 307

[2] Layman, “God and the Moral Order” 308

[3] Peter Bryne “God and the Moral Order: A Reply to Layman” Faith and Philosophy, 23:2 (2006): 201

[4] Bryne, “God and the Moral Order: A Reply to Layman” 206-207:

[5] See for example, Derek Parfit On What Matters (Volume 1) (Oxford: Oxford University Press : 2011) 130-134. See also Francesco Orsi, “The Dualism of the Practical Reason: Some Interpretations and Responses” Etica & Politica / Ethics & Politics, 10:2 (2008): 25-26

[6] Henry Sidgwick, The Method of Ethics, 242 available at https://www.earlymoderntexts.com/assets/pdfs/sidgwick1874.pdf accessed 20/3/21

[7] Henry Sidgwick, The Method of Ethics, 284 available at https://www.earlymoderntexts.com/assets/pdfs/sidgwick1874.pdf accessed 20/3/21

 

Matthew Flannagan

Dr. Matthew Flannagan is a theologian with proficiency in contemporary analytic philosophy. He holds a PhD in Theology from the University of Otago, a Master's (with First Class Honours), and a Bachelor's in Philosophy from the University of Waikato; he also holds a post-graduate diploma in secondary teaching from Bethlehem Tertiary Institute. He currently works as an independent researcher and as teaching pastor at Takanini Community Church in Auckland, New Zealand.

What Makes Something Morally Good or Bad? Why a Trinitarian Metaethic Better Explains Morality (Part 5)

Editor’s note: Adam Johnson has graciously allowed us to republish his video series, “What Makes Something Morally Good or Bad?” Find the original post here.


Adam believes that his Trinitarian Moral Theory is a better explanation for the existence of objective morality than Erik Wielenberg’s theory of Godless Normative Realism. Why does Adam think his theory is better? The Trinitarian Moral Theory contains five elements that are important for moral truth to be objectively real that Wielenberg’s theory lacks. First, the Trinitarian Moral Theory posits the existence of an ultimate moral standard, God, to which humans can be compared. Second, it offers an objective purpose for human beings that contextualizes morality. Third, it provides a social context for moral obligation, since moral obligations arise out of social relationships. Fourth, it recognizes a personal authority at the head of the chain of moral obligation to whom human beings are obligated. Finally, it grounds all moral truth in an ultimate foundation. Taken together, these features of the Trinitarian Moral Theory make it a more plausible explanation for objective morality than Wielenberg’s theory.


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Adam Lloyd Johnson serves as a university campus missionary with Ratio Christi. He also teaches classes for Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and spends one month each year living and teaching at Rhineland Theological Seminary in Wölmersen, Germany. Adam received his PhD in Theological Studies with an emphasis in Philosophy of Religion from Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary in 2020.

What Makes Something Morally Good or Bad? Adam Lloyd Johnson’s Trinitarian Moral Theory (Part 4)

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Editor’s note: Adam Johnson has graciously allowed us to republish his video series, “What Makes Something Morally Good or Bad?” Find the original post here.


Adam has proposed his own metaethical theory, a theory about where morality comes from, which builds on the foundation of Divine Command Theory. He calls it the “Trinitarian Moral Theory” because it holds that morality is based on the loving relationships within God between the members of the Trinity. God is love, and His love is the source of moral values and duties. Adam believes that his Trinitarian Moral Theory, which is uniquely Christian, is the best explanation for the existence of objective morality. He thinks that the Trinitarian Moral Theory is true for several reasons. First of all, his theory centers on the Trinity, which is a key aspect of who God is. In addition, focusing on the loving relationships of the Trinity explains why the meaning of life is personal loving relationships, it explains how we can be morally good by resembling God, it explains the purpose of God’s commands, and it explains why there are different types of commands from God.


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Adam Lloyd Johnson serves as a university campus missionary with Ratio Christi. He also teaches classes for Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and spends one month each year living and teaching at Rhineland Theological Seminary in Wölmersen, Germany. Adam received his PhD in Theological Studies with an emphasis in Philosophy of Religion from Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary in 2020.

The Deeper Source of Religion: Passional Reason in William James’s Writings

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Introduction: Encountering Truth

            Pilate asked Jesus, “What is truth?”[1] This is no simple question. Given the gravity of the moment in which it was asked, and to whom it was directed, Pilate’s question strikes at the very heart of humanity’s encounter with God. Some answer that truth is an outcome, the product of a logical process of considering a given situation’s evidence. Some say that truth is an encounter, whereby a person’s passional nature is the means by which circumstances are experienced and volitional conclusions are drawn. Is it possible that between the two—between reason and passion—truth is to be found as a result of utilizing both one’s passions and reason? The following research considers this possibility through an expository examination of the works of American philosopher William James (1842-1910), specifically considering aspects of his The Will to Believe, and The Varieties of Religious Experience: A Study in Human Nature.[2] Three questions provide the framework for this investigation: 1) What is passional reason?; 2) What are examples of passional reason in the writings of William James?; and 3) What is the significance of James’s passional reason for religious epistemology? Research findings will suggest that James’s emphasis on the role of the passional nature provides a view of religious beliefs as both reasonably and passionally derived.

What is Passional Reason?

            To lay the groundwork for the discussion of James’s thought regarding the role of the passional aspects of human nature in forming religious beliefs it is helpful to begin with a definition of passional reason. Drawing upon the work of Wainwright, passional reason may be defined as the culmination of human reason’s investigation of proofs, history, and other logically arguable facts regarding religious truth claims, and the affective component of the human heart regarding such rational concerns that accepts them and recognizes their role in developing religious belief.[3] Wainwright explains,

This view was once a Christian commonplace; reason is capable of knowing God on the basis of evidence—but only when one’s cognitive faculties are rightly disposed. It should be distinguished from two other views that have dominated modern thought. The first claims that God can be known by ‘objective reason,’ that is, by an understanding that systematically excludes passion, desire, and emotion from the process of reasoning. The other insists that God can be known only ‘subjectively,’ or by the heart. . . . [Passional reason] steers between these two extremes. It places a high value on proofs, arguments, and inferences yet also believes a properly disposed heart is needed to see their force.[4]

In this explanation, Wainwright brings together both objective and subjective components to form a center ground for faith formation, the ground of passional reason.

            This concept of passional reason draws upon various aspects of the Christian tradition, including Calvin (with his Augustinian influence) and Aquinas. Calvin emphasizes the necessity of the Holy Spirit in confirming the authority of Scripture, and Aquinas teaches that even though “there is good evidence for the divine origin of Christian teaching . . . [it is not] sufficient to compel assent without the inward movement of a will grounded in a ‘supernatural principle.’”[5] Thus both Calvin and Aquinas, while making their arguments for Christianity utilizing proofs and evidences of various types, clearly highlight the role of affective, non-discursively derived conclusions relative to the formation of religious belief. This is passional reason, where reason (i.e., the mind) and the passions (i.e., the heart) synergize to cultivate religious beliefs.

What are Examples of Passional Reason in the Writings of William James?

            Moving on from this definition of passional reason, the investigation turns to the thought of William James, seeking to find how passional reason contributes to his understanding of the formation of religious beliefs. As a preface to the following quotes and the ensuing discussion, it is worth noting that interpretations of James vary from, on the one hand, those who think James does not accept religious beliefs as anything more than individual predilections that serve some ultimately personal need and have no connection, necessarily or actually, to any metaphysical reality; and, on the other hand, those who argue that James did, while recognizing the individual usefulness of religious beliefs, also affirm that such beliefs were metaphysically real and not only could but should be believed.[6] Whichever view one takes of James’s ultimate intention does not necessarily detract from the discussion below, insofar as the issue under consideration is how James understood the role of passional reason in cultivating religious beliefs, not the ultimate veracity of such beliefs.

            Four quotes from James are now considered. The first two are from The Will to Believe, an address to the Philosophical Clubs at Yale and Brown Universities in 1896. The last two are from The Varieties of Religious Belief: A Study in Human Nature, a work borne of James’s delivery of the Gifford Lectures on Natural Religion at the University of Edinburgh beginning in 1900. The presentation of these four quotes is an attempt to demonstrate what may be described as a “Jamesian Justification for Passional Reason,” which, though far from exhaustive regarding his thought on the topic, do, as the comments given after each quote will attempt to show, reveal the centrality of passional reason in James’s work.

            Quote One: “Our passional nature must, and lawfully may, decide an option between propositions, whenever it is a genuine option that cannot by its nature be decided on intellectual grounds.”[7] Notice in this quote that James attributes to the passional nature the role of final decider in certain matters of belief, such that the evidence as reasonably considered may bring someone to the precipice of belief, but only the passional nature can and may let them take the step into belief. In taking this approach to passion and reason, James, according to Fuller’s estimation, “deftly pull[s] the philosophical rug out from under those committed to a modernist faith in the ability of the scientific method to usher humanity into the domain of universal truths and intellectual certainties. . . . His understanding of religious belief steer[s] a defensible middle course between naive credulity and agnostic skepticism.”[8] The conclusion that may be drawn from this first quote by James is that not only the intellect, but the whole person, is required in order to make choices regarding what to believe.

Quote Two: “I have said, and now repeat it, that not only as a matter of fact do we find our passional nature influencing us in our opinions, but that there are some options between opinions in which this influence must be regarded both as an inevitable and as a lawful determinant of our choice.”[9] While similar to the fist quote by James, the key distinction in this second quote is James’s conclusion that is it not only permissible to allow passional reason to guide in forming one’s beliefs, but that the use of passional reason may be “inevitable;” more than a choice, passional reason is a requirement in certain instances. Wainwright remarks that, for James, “all conceptualizations, including scientific ones, are simply abstractions from the richness of concrete experience. The ‘personal point of view’ is thus essential.”[10] James, as this second quote demonstrates, recognizes passional reason as a universally constitutive element in belief; it is much more than a subjective option for a few.

Quote Three: “I do believe that feeling is the deeper source of religion, and that philosophic and theological formulas are secondary products, like translations of a text into another tongue.”[11] In this quote, James identifies the passional nature (i.e., “feeling”) as primary, whereas more rational considerations are secondary. His use of an analogy from language reveals that James views the passional as the vital language for religious experience, and the rational as its expression in the language of the intellect. As Croce explains, in this way James “distinguishes religion lived at first hand, which would include direct personal encounter with spiritual forces, from religion at second hand, based on traditions derived from those first hand experiences.”[12] Thus in this third quote from James there is a sense in which he views passional reason as paradigmatic for properly evaluating all religious conclusions; passional reason becomes a lens through which religious truth formulations are derived and evaluated.

            Quote Four: “In all sad sincerity I think we must conclude that the attempt to demonstrate by purely intellectual processes the truth of the deliverances of direct religious experience is absolutely hopeless.”[13] The context in which James makes this statement is his discussion of the various proofs for God’s existence presented by Aquinas and others; it is important to note, therefore, that he is not dismissing the value of proofs, per se, but acknowledging that they are not, in themselves, sufficient to the task. Just as a person made in the image of God is both reasonable and passional, so arguments for the existence of God must be more than reasonable; the passional element is indispensable. Is it possible, as Wainwright surmises, that James’s point of critique is not that proofs for the existence of God do not establish certainty, but that the passional element should be considered, along with the intellectual element, as part of a broader definition of proofs?[14] This fourth quote by James certainly leaves open the possibility that this is so; passion and intellect combine in James to make the case that passional reason is the best arbiter for religious belief.

            As this brief expository analysis demonstrates, James certainly gives a fundamental, if not primary, role to the passional elements of human nature in the formation of religious belief. However, whether or not James’s conclusions about passional reason are epistemically helpful is another matter. Although far short of a full critique of James’s religious epistemology, the next section considers one positive and one negative aspect of his thought.

What is the Significance of James’s Passional Reason for Religious Epistemology?

Briefly considered, there are two aspects of James’s passional reason of significance to religious epistemology; one is positive, and one is negative. Positively, James attempts to engage the total person in the matter of faith formation, rather than focusing exclusively on the rational and evidentiary aspects, or on the subjective and experiential aspects. In biblical parlance, there is a sense in which James encourages the formation of religious belief utilizing one’s heart, soul, mind, and strength; with the whole being.[15] In an era of radical materialism and scientism, which bring with them a diminution of any philosophical metaphysic, James’s perspective can provide a helpful corrective and balance.

However, given James’s radical empiricism and its attendant emphasis of the nature of belief as dependent on currently observable facts (be they experiential or otherwise), and his commitment to human experience as the final test of truth, James implicitly opposes the primacy of theological dogma and its necessary authority in matters of faith and practice.[16] While James may allow a place for dogma in forming religious beliefs, there is no absolute sense in which dogma provides the objective standard by which all religious matters are to be evaluated. Yes, passional reason impacts faith formation, but unless there is a final standard of truth as divinely revealed through Scripture and Tradition, then the creature, rather than the Creator, becomes the determiner of reality.

Conclusion

William James’s articulation of the role of passional reason in forming religious belief provides a seminal contribution to discussions of faith, in general, and religious epistemology, in particular. The preceding research considered this contribution of James by initially defining passional reason, then identifying and expounding examples of passional reason in James’s writings, and finally by critically evaluating the positive and negative aspects of James’s approach. Research suggests that, with correctives regarding the role of dogma in faith formation, James’s conclusions about the interplay of the rational and passional offer helpful insights for the interdependent areas of philosophy and religion.


Bibliography

Aquinas, Thomas. The Summa Theologica. New York: Benziger, 1947.

Calvin, John. Institutes of the Christian Religion. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1957.

Corbett, Robert. “The Will to Believe: An Outline.” St. Louis: Webster University, 1980.

Accessed 1 December 2016. http://faculty.webster.edu/corbetre/philosophy/misc/james.html.

Croce, Paul. “Spilt Mysticism: William James’s Democratization of Religion.” William James

Studies 9, (July 2012): 3-26. 

Elwell, Walter A., Ed. Evangelical Dictionary of Theology. 2nd ed. Grand Rapids: Baker, 2001.

Fuller, Robert C. "'The Will to Believe': A Centennial Reflection." Journal of the American

Academy of Religion 64, no. 3 (September 1996): 633-650. 

James, William. The Varieties of Religious Experience: A Study in Human Nature. South

Australia: eBooks@Adelaide, 2009. Accessed 25 November 2016. https://csrs.nd.edu/assets/59930/williams_1902.pdf.

------. The Will to Believe. Accessed 2 December 2016.

http://norm.unet.brandeis.edu/~teuber/James_The_Will_to_Believe.pdf.

Smith, John E. Purpose and Thought: The Meaning of Pragmatism. New Haven: Yale University

Press, 1978.

Wainwright, William J. Reason and the Heart: A Prolegomenon to a Critique of Passional

Reason. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1995.

 


[1] John 18:38. Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are taken from The Holy Bible, New King James Version (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1982).

[2] William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience: A Study in Human Nature (South Australia: eBooks@Adelaide, 2009); and The Will to Believe, http://norm.unet.brandeis.edu/~teuber/James_The_Will_to_Believe.pdf.

[3] William J. Wainwright, Reason and the Heart: A Prolegomenon to a Critique of Passional Reason (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1995), 3-4.

[4] Ibid., 3. Italics in original.

[5] Ibid., 4. Wainwright’s reference to Calvin is from John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1957), vol. I, book I, chap. 7, sec. 4; the reference to Aquinas is from Thomas Aquinas, The Summa Theologica (New York: Benziger, 1947), vol. 2, part II-II, quest. 6, art. I.

[6] An example of the former evaluation of James is John E. Smith, Purpose and Thought: The Meaning of Pragmatism (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1978). An example of the latter evaluation of James is Wainwright, Reason and the Heart, 84-107.

[7] James, The Will to Believe, sect. IV.

[8] Robert C. Fuller, “’The Will to Believe’: A Centennial Reflection,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 64, no. 3 (September 1996): 634.

[9] James, The Will to Believe, sect. VIII.

[10] Wainwright, Reason and the Heart, 93.

[11] James, The Varieties of Religious Experience, 327.

[12] Paul Croce, “Spilt Mysticism: William James’s Democratization of Religion,” William James Studies 9, (July 2012), 4.

[13] James, The Varieties of Religious Experience, 344.

[14] See Wainwright, Reason and the Heart, 1-6.

[15] See Luke 10:27.

[16] R. J. VanderMolen, “Pragmatism,” in the Evangelical Dictionary of Theology, 2nd ed., Walter A. Elwell, ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2001), 945-946.


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T. J. Gentry is the Executive Editor of MoralApologetics.com, the Senior Minister at First Christian Church of West Frankfort, IL, and the Co-founder of Good Reasons Apologetics. T. J. has been in Christian ministry since 1984, having served as an itinerant evangelist, youth minister, church planter, pastoral counselor, and Army chaplain. He is the author of numerous books and peer-reviewed articles, including Pulpit Apologist: The Vital Link between Preaching and Apologetics (Wipf and Stock, 2020), You Shall Be My Witnesses: Reflections on Sharing the Gospel (Illative House, 2018), and two forthcoming works published by Moral Apologetics Press: Leaving Calvinism, Finding Grace, and A Moral Way: Aquinas and the Good God. T. J. is a Clinical Pastoral Education Supervisor, holding board-certification as a Pastoral Counselor and a Chaplain. He is a graduate of Southern Illinois University (BA in Political Science), Luther Rice College and Seminary (MA in Apologetics), Holy Apostles College and Seminary (MA in Philosophy), Liberty University (MAR in Church Ministries, MDiv in Chaplaincy, ThM in Theology), Carolina University (DMin in Pastoral Counseling, PhD in Leadership, PhD in Biblical Studies), and the United States Army Chaplain School (Basic and Advanced Courses). He is currently completing his PhD in Theology at North-West University, Potchefstroom, South Africa (2021), his PhD in Theology and Apologetics at Liberty University (2022), and his PhD in Philosophy of Religion at Southern Evangelical Seminary (2024). T. J. married Amy in 1995, and they are blessed with three daughters and two sons. T. J.’s writing and other projects may be viewed at TJGentry.com.

Shame, Deserved and Undeserved

Whereas guilt reveals that we have morally transgressed, shame pertains more to who we are, not just what we have done. And so shame can be particularly damaging if we allow it to detract from recognizing the value we have in God, which it can all too easily do. If we become convinced that we are useless, that our lives are pointless, that we as people lack value, it becomes exponentially harder to see ourselves as creations of God with infinite dignity and value and worth. The topic of shame is thus vitally important for moral apologists to think about and understand.

A temptation is to think that all shame is bad—nothing but a toxic emotion. Whereas guilt might be fine, shame is thought to just saddle us with needless negative emotional baggage. Victims of abuse may feel great shame over what happened to them, even though they did nothing wrong. That is undeserved shame, and the problem is not theirs. It’s all of ours; we need to listen to such victims, not sideline them, nor silence them, but give them a voice and really hear them. There is also deserved shame, however. If I do something shameful, I should feel shame—if I were the abuser of that victims we just discussed, for example. Not that anyone should let shame decimate their sense of self or think of themselves as unredeemable, nor should engage in the practice of shaming. That is different, and little compatible with loving our neighbors as ourselves. To get a better understanding of shame, both undeserved and deserved, let’s consider an example of both.

If you have the time, watch the first half of the following clip.

It is a 1981 YouTube clip of Mister Rogers hosting a ten-year-old wheelchair-bound Jeffrey Erlanger. They had originally met five years before, and Rogers remembered him and invited him to his Neighborhood. Fred would later say that these unscripted ten minutes were his most memorable moment on television. The scene is deeply moving, and if there’s any doubt as to why, I might suggest it has to do, at least in part, with this matter of shame. Ours is sadly a society in which certain people—those who have been sexually abused, those with visible disabilities—carry a stigma and are often, for no fault of their own, riddled with a sense of shame—a loss of social standing, and a resultant tendency to shrink and hide. It threatens their sense of humanity. The solution has to be communal—usually involving someone with social capital to spare conferring honor upon them.

And that is exactly what makes those ten minutes of television so undeniably magical. It is a simply profound microcosm of the divine love that deigns and condescends to broken and marginalized people and, in the process, exalts them, replacing shame with honor, beauty for ashes. Mister Rogers gets eye level with Jeff, asks him about his experiences, gives the boy a chance to share about his condition and feelings, and talks to him like a friend. Like Mister Rogers did for Jeffrey—who was on the stage years later to confer on Rogers his Lifetime Achievement Award—this is a means by which to make goodness attractive, which is sort of part of our job description as Christians. It’s an important way to love God and our neighbor.

And now an example of deserved shame. The pages of scripture are replete with narratives of honor and shame, from Adam and Eve to the story of the prodigal son and lots in between. You know the story of the prodigal son. He insists on his inheritance ahead of time and engages in profligate spending and living, bringing shame on himself and an almost complete loss of social standing as a result. Finally, he repents and comes home, and the father, seeing him far off, comes running to him with a kiss and embrace. Here is a young man who did shame-worthy things. He felt shame, and he deserved to, and he couldn’t fix it on his own. He needed someone to confer on him the honor he had lost.

And this gives us as believers a simply wonderful opportunity. As Gregg Ten Elshof puts it in his forthcoming excellent book For Shame, “All of us, whether we have social capital to spare or not, are in a position to remind those around us that each and every person is loved and pursued by the God of the universe. The maker of heaven and earth is in a full sprint—robes and all—to embrace you, kiss you, put a ring on your finger, and throw a feast in your honor. Whatever the opinion of the company you keep, you are of immeasurable value to the One who matters most. You are so valuable that the God of the universe suffered the indignity of limited human form, betrayal, public humiliation, and naked crucifixion to rescue you not just from guilt, but also from the shame of your condition, all to enjoy an eternal life of friendship and communion with you.”

If there is any doubt that this is what the life and work of Jesus was all about, recall the OT passage that inaugurated his public ministry in Luke, from Isaiah 61: “The Spirit of the Lord GOD is on Me, because the LORD has anointed Me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent Me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and freedom to the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor and the day of our God’s vengeance, to comfort all who mourn, to console the mourners in Zion—to give them a crown of beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and a garment of praise for a spirit of despair.”


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David Baggett is professor of philosophy and Director of the Center for Moral Apologetics at Houston Baptist University.


What Makes Something Morally Good or Bad? Natural Law vs. Divine Command Theory (Part 3)

Editor’s note: Adam Johnson has graciously allowed us to republish his video series, “What Makes Something Morally Good or Bad?” Find the original post here.


The two predominant positions within Christianity that answer the question of “Where does objective morality come from?” are known as Natural Law Theory and Divine Command Theory. Both theories have strengths and weaknesses, which leads to robust debate between proponents of each. Natural Law Theory says that both human moral values (i.e., what things are good and bad) and moral obligations (i.e., what things are right and wrong to do) come from facts about what causes human beings to flourish. In Natural Law Theory, God created the world, including human beings, and thus something is good or right when it causes human beings to flourish. On the other hand, Divine Command Theory says that our moral obligations come from God’s commands. Right and wrong are determined by what God commands us to do, and God commands us according to what is good. In this lecture, Adam explores each of these theories and discusses objections against each offered by proponents of the other.


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Adam Lloyd Johnson serves as a university campus missionary with Ratio Christi. He also teaches classes for Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and spends one month each year living and teaching at Rhineland Theological Seminary in Wölmersen, Germany. Adam received his PhD in Theological Studies with an emphasis in Philosophy of Religion from Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary in 2020.


Natural Theology | Dictionary of Moral Apologetics

Natural Theology | Dictionary of Moral Apologetics

Experiencing God, all around.

Have you ever looked at a mountain, ocean, intricate plant, or captivating creature, and felt such a sense of wonder, peace, or delight that your thoughts turned toward the divine? If so, then you have experienced what scholars call “natural theology;” that is, things we can know and learn about God through nature.

Read More

Making Sense of Morality: Objections from Euthyphro and Evil

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Editor’s note: R. Scott Smith has graciously allowed us to republish his series, “Making Sense of Morality.” You can find the original post here.

Introduction

In the previous post, I argued that there is another explanation for the ground of core morals, such as justice and love are good, and murder and rape are wrong: they are grounded in God. However, there are a couple serious objections that I will address here, and then I will summarize several of my findings.

Euthyphro Dilemma

“Euthyphro” poses a dilemma: are morals good because God commands them, or does God command them because they are good? If the former, it seems God’s will alone is the ground of morals. But, it seems God could will whatever God wanted, and it would be moral. If so, God could will things we clearly know are wrong, even evil, such as justice being bad, and rape being permissible. Earlier, I suggested this issue seems to face Allah, due to the supremacy of Allah’s sovereignty.

If the latter, it seems God’s commands are redundant, for we already should know morals are valid. Also, they seem to be valid independently of God; if so, God is not needed to ground morals. Moreover, God must consult these morals before commanding them.

 Regarding the former, the Scriptures of Judaism and Christianity portray God as being morally perfect and good. That is, God is bound by God’s character, so God would not will something that is contrary to that character. Moreover, that God is good fits with what we may know by reason and reflection (i.e., what many have called natural law), including our core morals and others too (e.g., we should not torture babies for fun).

On the latter, we may need to have some understanding of goodness before we can know God is good. But, it does not follow from that that morals are independent of God. Further, just because we can know some moral truths without God’s commands (e.g., by reason), still we possess a remarkable ability to suppress or rationalize away what we know morally. In that case, God’s commanding something we can know via reason would not be redundant, but a reinforcement and clarification of that knowledge. 

Back to Evil

So far, I’ve suggested that the best explanation of our core morals is that they are grounded in God’s moral character. But, is there more we can infer by reason?

Suppose we consider evil. Many think evil provides one of the strongest arguments against God’s existence. Yet, what kind of thing is evil? Earlier, I suggested that evil is a privation (or perversion) of goodness. Indeed, it seems hard to define evil is some way other than the way things should not be.

If that is the case, evil presupposes goodness, like Augustine suggested. What then is the best explanation for this standard of goodness? Above, I suggested it is God’s own character. Yet, we can infer more, I think. To be truly good, God must be love. This suggests God is personal. Furthermore, to be truly good, God must be truly just.

Together, these two findings suggest that God would deal with evil, yet in love and care for humans. This in turn raises questions for consideration that are beyond the scope of this book: which God is this? And, has God done this? If so, how? What are implications for us?

Final Thoughts

We have completed our survey of the major moral views in the west. I’ve argued that the best explanation for our core morals is that they are universals that are grounded in God’s morally good character. I’ve argued for this while also arguing for several more key points; e.g.:

  • Nominalism is false, and Platonic-like universals exist;

  • There are essences, including of core morals, human beings, and mental states (they have intentionality); and

  • We can know reality directly, even though our situatedness does affect us in significant ways. So, historicism is mistaken.

Notice too that from our findings, the fact-value split, the deeply held belief that science uniquely gives us knowledge of the facts, whereas ethics and religion give us just opinions and preferences, is false. Science, if grounded in naturalism and nominalism, cannot give us knowledge at all. On the other hand, we do have ethical knowledge of at least our four core morals. Maybe there are more we can know. We also have justified reasons to believe it is true that God is ground of morals – another item of knowledge.

For Further Reading

William Alston, “What Euthyphro Should Have Said,” in Philosophy of Religion: A Reader and Guide, gen. ed. William Lane Craig

R. Scott Smith, In Search of Moral Knowledge, chs. 12-13


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R. Scott Smith is a Christian philosopher and apologist, with special interests in ethics, knowledge, and seeing the body of Christ live in the fullness of the Spirit and truth.


One Good Reason to Believe in God: The Intrinsic Value of His Image (and Man’s Attempt to Escape It)

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Editor’s note: Good Reasons Apologetics has graciously allowed us to republish their series, “One Good Reason” You can find the original post here.


“Then God said, ‘Let Us make man in Our image, after Our likeness.’” (Gen. 1:26)

Of the 10.7 million Africans who were taken captive and brought to the new world, it is believed about 388,000 ended up in what is now the United States. Congress outlawed bringing slaves into the U.S. in 1808, and yet the population of Africans in the U.S. by 1860 was 4.4 million, 3.9 million of which were slaves, and it was almost entirely the result of natural growth (i.e., babies born into slavery generation after generation).     

According to the Columbia Guide to the Holocaust, almost 6 million Jews were killed in Europe and Russia in just a few years during World War II. This represented about 55% of the population of Jews in the regions. At least 50 million people lost their lives as a direct result of the fighting in World War II, with as many as 85 million who lost their lives in total when things like war related famine and disease are included.

Today in the US, according to the conservative numbers we have, it appears we abort about 850,000 unborn children a year. This has been occurring legally since 1973 thanks to a Supreme Court decision that birthed the idea of the “right” to abort a child. It is now estimated that there have been approximately 42 million unborn Americans aborted.

Many who championed chattel slavery did not view Africans as fully human. The idea of evolution provided racists and eugenicists a way to claim that Africans, Aborigines and other people groups were less evolved, and thus less deserving of life than their more evolved counterparts. Nazi propaganda called Jews “rats” and referred to their homes as “nests.” They systematically exterminated Jews, “invalids” and other groups they called “life unworthy of life.” The most common defense of abortion is that it is not a person, but rather a “clump of cells,” or a “choice.”

The cycle of dehumanizing other humans, followed by murder and genocide and eventually negative historical judgement through time is evidence that man still intuitively recognizes the implicit value in other men, and must overcome the idea his target is fully human before taking life in cold blood.

One might argue that humans enslaving and killing other humans on a large scale is just evolution’s “red in tooth and claw” history playing out as always. However, the overwhelming historical tendency for man’s need to dehumanize other men before enslaving or murdering others seems counter to evolution’s “survival of the fittest.” Shouldn’t it be easier to kill with all this practice?

Anyone who has suffered the loss of a loved one or cried out at the senseless loss of a stranger’s life knows the unexplainable angst that comes from the unjustified or systematic taking of a human life. Does this come from blind, purposeless accidents through time that create the psychological illusion of value in one another based only on mutual advantage as is suggested by some?

It seems far more likely to be the residue of his Creator’s imprint of the value of fellow image bearers on every man’s soul. We dare not kill the King’s sons and daughters, and we know it. 


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Tony Williams is currently serving in his 20th year as a police officer in a city in Southern Illinois. He has been studying apologetics in his spare time for two decades, since a crisis of faith led him to the discovery of vast and ever-increasing evidence for his faith. Tony received a bachelor's degree in University Studies from Southern Illinois University in 2019. His career in law enforcement has provided valuable insight into the concepts of truth, evidence, confession, testimony, cultural competency, morality, and most of all, the compelling need for Christ in the lives of the lost. Tony plans to pursue postgraduate studies in apologetics in the near future to sharpen his understanding of the various facets of Christian apologetics. Tony has been married for 9 years and has two sons. He and his family currently reside in Southern Illinois.

What Makes Something Morally Good or Bad? Erik Wielenberg’s Theory (Part 2)

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Editor’s note: Adam Johnson has graciously allowed us to republish his video series, “What Makes Something Morally Good or Bad?” Find the original post here.


Erik Wielenberg has proposed an atheistic theory of where morality comes from. He claims that God is not necessary in order to have objective morality by which humans are required to live. Wielenberg’s theory has three main components: First, it is not a materialistic theory, meaning that it does not assume that the physical world is all there is. Second, Wielenberg’s theory proposes the existence of “brute ethical facts” that exist outside of nature which ground moral values and obligations. Third, Wielenberg says that these facts become applicable to human beings by something he calls the “making relationship,” whereby facts about circumstances in the world cause moral facts to become applicable to certain situations (to be instantiated). This lecture explains the main concepts of Wielenberg’s theory and also examines some objections to his theory.


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Adam Lloyd Johnson serves as a university campus missionary with Ratio Christi. He also teaches classes for Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and spends one month each year living and teaching at Rhineland Theological Seminary in Wölmersen, Germany. Adam received his PhD in Theological Studies with an emphasis in Philosophy of Religion from Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary in 2020.

Making Sense of Morality: Where Do We Go from Here?

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Editor’s note: R. Scott Smith has graciously allowed us to republish his series, “Making Sense of Morality.” You can find the original post here.

Summary of the Survey

We have surveyed major ethical options for what our core morals are, including:

  • Are they how we happen to talk?

  • Are they physical things? Perhaps evolutionary products?

  • Are they ways of behaving or moving our bodies?

  • Are they results of a utilitarian calculus?

  • Are they emotive utterances?

  • Are they particulars? (nominalism)

But, at least since Hobbes, I’ve argued that none of the views can preserve our core morals of murder and rape being wrong, and love and justice being good.

What Are These Core Morals?

For one, they seem to be objectively real. They seem to exist independently of us as moral principles and values. They also simply seem to be intrinsically valid, and not due to anything else (like, the consequences). That is, they seem to have an essential moral nature. Moreover, they cannot be just physical things or particulars, as we’ve seen. Instead, they seem to be a “one-in-many” – each one is one principle (or value), yet it can have many instances/examples. In sum, they seem to be Platonic-like universals.

That raises many questions, however. Earlier, I remarked that Christine Korsgaard rightly observed that it’s hard to see how such things could have anything to do with us. While she thinks people are physical, it still applies if we are a body-soul unity. Why should these abstract objects have anything to do with us? On Plato’s view, they exist in a heavenly realm of values as brute features of reality.

What makes justice and love character qualities that should be present in us? Why is it inappropriate morally for us to murder or rape? These are normative qualities, not merely descriptive. As we’ve seen, it is hard to see how we can get the moral ought from what is descriptively the case. Yet, that problem could be overcome if humans have an essential nature that makes these moral values appropriate for them, and these acts inappropriate.

Earlier, I argued that the soul as our essential nature provides a sound explanation for how we can be the identical person through change. Body-soul dualists affirm that the soul is our essential nature, and it sets the boundary conditions for what is appropriate for us. For instance, it is inappropriate for us to grow a cat’s tail due to our nature, and it is inappropriate for us to murder due to our nature.

We also saw another reason for the soul’s existence. We do in fact think and form beliefs, yet these have intentionality, which I argued is best understood as something immaterial and having an essence. Now, it is hard to conceive how a physical brain could interact with something immaterial, but that problem does not seem to exist for an immaterial soul/mind.

Moreover, why should we feel guilt and shame when we break these core morals? That doesn’t make sense if these morals are just abstract objects that are immaterial and not located in space and time. Instead, we seem to have such responses in the presence of persons we have wronged morally. Also, retributive justice doesn’t make sense if we repay an abstract principle or value. But it would make sense if a person should be repaid.

There is another explanation we have seen for the grounding of these core morals: they are grounded in God. That helps solve the question of why we feel shame when we break one of these morals. But, that also raises questions, such as: are they good because God commands them, or does God command them because they are good (i.e., the Euthyphro dilemma)? Also, which God would this be?

I will start to tackle these in the next essay. But, first, there is another option for properties besides universals (realism) and nominalism. It is divine conceptualism; properties just are God’s concepts. Justice in us is God’s concept. Yet, concepts have intentionality, but virtues do not. When we think about people being just, we don’t mean they have a concept of justice (though they could), but that they have that virtue present in them. So, offhand, divine conceptualism seems to trade on a confusion.

For Further Reading

R. Scott Smith, In Search of Moral Knowledge, ch. 12


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R. Scott Smith is a Christian philosopher and apologist, with special interests in ethics, knowledge, and seeing the body of Christ live in the fullness of the Spirit and truth.


What Makes Something Morally Good or Bad? Introduction to Metaethics (Part 1)

Editor’s note: Adam Johnson has graciously allowed us to republish his video series, “What Makes Something Morally Good or Bad?” Find the original post here.


Metaethics is the study of what makes something good or bad. It is not the study of what is good or bad, but why there are such things as moral good and moral bad. What is morality? Where did it come from? There are many theories of what morality is; some think morality is subjective and depends on individual people, cultures, and circumstances. Others believe that morality is objective, that it is independent of human beings. Most theists think that morality comes from God, but many atheists claim that God is not necessary for morality. Non-naturalists, for example, believe that morality can exist objectively without God. Thinkers throughout Western history have defended many positions, both subjective and objective as well as theistic and atheist ones. Listen in as Adam gives an overview of the different metaethical theories.


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Adam Lloyd Johnson serves as a university campus missionary with Ratio Christi. He also teaches classes for Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and spends one month each year living and teaching at Rhineland Theological Seminary in Wölmersen, Germany. Adam received his PhD in Theological Studies with an emphasis in Philosophy of Religion from Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary in 2020.

Making Sense of Morality: A Brief Assessment of MacIntyre’s Ethics

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Editor’s note: R. Scott Smith has graciously allowed us to republish his series, “Making Sense of Morality.” You can find the original post here.

Some Contributions

What should we make of MacIntyre’s proposals? His ethics focuses on the importance of good character by embodying moral virtues and being authentic. He also draws attention to the importance of community. And, he emphasizes the need for living out the virtues, and not merely engaging in abstract theorizing.

Broad Concerns

As we have seen, MacIntyre and other authors writing in the light of the postmodern turn embrace nominalism. Yet, we have seen its disastrous effects, leaving us without any qualities whatsoever. So, there are no people, no morals (not even our core ones), no world, etc. But surely this is false, and it destroys morality.

We also have surveyed issues with historicism, which ends up with no way to start making interpretations. Yet, are we really so situated that we cannot access reality directly? Now, surely no human is blind to nothing, and we cannot know something exhaustively. Surely we have our biases, too.

Yet, from daily life, it seems we can notice that we do access reality. For example, how do children learn to form concepts of apples? It seems it is by having many experiences of them. Then they can notice their commonalities, and they can form a concept on that basis. Then they can use that concept to compare something else they see (e.g., a tomato) and notice if it too is an apple or not. Adults do this, too, when they use phones to refill prescriptions, or enter their “PIN” for a debit card purchase.

It seems to be a descriptive fact that we can compare our concepts with things as they are, just as in that apple example. We also can adjust our concepts to better fit with reality. I think we can know this to be so, if we pay close attention to what is consciously before our minds.

However, how we attend to what we are aware of can reflect patterns. We can fall into ruts, noticing some things while not attending to others. As J. P. Moreland suggests, “situatedness functions as a set of habit forming background beliefs and concepts that direct our acts of noticing or failing to notice various features of reality” (Moreland, 311). But these habits do not preclude us from accessing reality.

Specific Concerns

Now, MacIntyre rejects the soul as the basis for one’s being the same person through change. For one, it would be an essence, and he seems to think humans are just bodies (Dependent Rational Animals, 6). Can the unity of one’s narrative meet this need?

For him, a narrative does not have an essence; it is composed of sentences that tell a person’s story. At any time, the narrative’s identity just is the bundle of sentences that are its members. However, if a new sentence is added, then the set of members has changed, and a new story has taken the old one’s place. Sadly, then, someone cannot grow in virtue or rationality on this view, for they do not maintain their identity through change.

Moreover, can we really see that one tradition is rationally superior to another? MacIntyre in banking on our ability to become bilingual. However, on his view, a person at any time is constituted by his or her narrative, and that in turn cannot be pried off from the tradition on which it is based. When a person immerses him or herself into another tradition to learn its language, that learning always will be done from the interpretive standpoint of the first tradition, by which that person has been formed. Indeed, it could not be otherwise, since that person is narratively “constituted” by the first tradition’s conceptual/linguistic framework. But, as that person “learns” that second language, new sentences should be added to that person’s narrative. Yet, if so, that person no longer is the same! So it becomes impossible to see the rational superiority of another tradition on his own views.

For Further Reading

Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue, 3rd ed.; Dependent Rational Animals; and Whose Justice? Which Rationality?

J. P. Moreland, “Two Areas of Reflection and Dialogue with John Franke,” Philosophia Christi 8:2 (2006)

R. Scott Smith, In Search of Moral Knowledge, ch. 11


R. Scott Smith is a Christian philosopher and apologist, with special interests in ethics, knowledge, and seeing the body of Christ live in the fullness of the Spirit and truth.


Making Sense of Morality: Alasdair MacIntyre’s Ethics

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Editor’s note: R. Scott Smith has graciously allowed us to republish his series, “Making Sense of Morality.” You can find the original post here.

MacIntyre’s Diagnosis

MacIntyre (b. 1929) observes people seem to speak from different moral standpoints, or languages. Some talk as though they are emotivists, while others are Kantians, utilitarians, relativists, Aristotelians, etc. But, it seems we no longer have a way to dialogue morally and come to agreements. These different ways of morally talking seem to presuppose objective standards to evaluate them. However, he claims that fails because they presuppose different evaluative concepts and frameworks.

This situation leads to shouting matches. This happened, he thinks, because the Enlightenment “project” dropped the idea of a moral telos (goal, end) from Aristotle and Aquinas. Without it, we seem left with just human nature as it is, and ethics as the tools to become moral. But, what should we be like?

With the different moral theories so far, MacIntyre thinks we lack how rationally to decide between them. He claims this is because no independent, rational standards exist to decide between them.

Without a cogent answer, Nietzsche wins – ethics is just about power after all. Or, perhaps we discarded an earlier moral tradition too quickly. MacIntyre thinks we should recover the Aristotelian moral tradition (and later, Thomism) to solve this dilemma.

MacIntyre’s Proposal

To recover Aristotle’s ethics, MacIntyre recommends several changes. First, while Aristotle depended upon the soul to ground a person’s identity through change (including growth in virtue), MacIntyre says we must reject the soul. In its place, he argues for the narrative unity to a person. One’s narrative is drawn from the narrative context of that person’s form of life (community), with its formative story and language.

While Aristotle’s virtues were universal properties present in one’s soul, MacIntyre needs a new basis for them. He appeals to practices, such as medicine, which are socially established, systematic, cooperative activities with goods internal and external to them. For a doctor, the internal goods include helping sick people get well, while an external good could be material prosperity. Practices have standards of excellence (virtue, or arête), and practitioners’ abilities to achieve those goals, and their understanding thereof, grow.

Instead of Aristotle’s context (the Greek polis), MacIntyre appeals to traditions, which are extended historically. They are socially embodied by particular peoples in their communities. A tradition is an argument “about the goods which constitute that tradition” (MacIntyre, After Virtue, 229). For example, Christianity could be a tradition, formed by many particular Christian communities down through time.

The telos of one’s life come from the intersection of that life with the master story of the tradition. Moral virtues enable the pursuit of a telos for the good of that person, to sustain the tradition, and help achieve the goods internal to practices.

MacIntyre and Language

MacIntyre draws heavily upon the later Wittgenstein’s (d. 1951) views of language. Each language is nominal and tied to a given form of life. Language does not have universal meaning. Instead, meaning is a matter of language use (verbal and nonverbal behavior) in that context, according to its grammatical rules and formative story.

Rationality is not some universal phenomenon; it is tied to a tradition with its master story (e.g., for Christians, the gospel story) and language. Though we always access reality through the interpretive lens of our tradition, MacIntyre still maintains there is a real world apart from our interpretations.

Yet, MacIntyre argues that we can rationally adjudicate which tradition is rationally better than another. How? It cannot be done as an outsider to a tradition; it has to be done from the inside. One learns the language of one’s own tradition, and learns to interpret and reason from under that “aspect.” But, that person also can immerse him or herself in another tradition and learn its language as a second first language. That way, by being able to reason and interpret in both ways, that person can “see” if a tradition can solve its own problems and that of another. If so, that tradition is rationally superior and deserves one’s allegiance. So, we can avoid relativism, even though rational standards are internal to each tradition.

For Further Reading

Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue, 3rd ed., and Whose Justice? Which Rationality?

R. Scott Smith, In Search of Moral Knowledge, ch. 9


A Critical Review of Is Goodness without God Good Enough?

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Chapter Three: Louise Antony, “Atheism as Perfect Piety”

 Louise Antony, professor of philosophy at the University of Massachusetts (Amherst), begins her essay with the admirably lucid statement that William Lane Craig is wrong to say that God’s existence is sufficient to ground morality and that there would be no morality without God.  To explain why she thinks this is the case, she enters into a discussion of the reasons that compelled her to abandon her religious beliefs during college. 

In addition to citing the problem of suffering as a reason that motivated her to give up theistic belief, she recounts how she developed (while in college) another argument that helped to separate (in her mind) morality from religion and God.  Given this separation, the truths of morality are derived neither from theism nor from religious belief (p. 68).  The argument turns on a distinction between two kinds of piety: imperfect contrition (which is contrition due to fear of punishment) and perfect contrition (which is contrition motivated by a desire for what is morally right).  The argument, formally stated, runs as follows:

(1)  Perfect contrition (even without belief in God) is more pleasing to God than imperfect contrition (even with belief in God). 

(2)  The only psychologically possible way for human beings to achieve perfect contrition is to cease believing in God. 

(3)  Human beings ought to do that which is most pleasing to God.

Therefore: 

(4)  Human beings ought to cease believing in God.  (From 1-3)

The assumption behind premise (2) is that humans are contrite (at least in part) due to fear of punishment by God or for the desire for reward from God.  However, this assumption is questionable.  On what grounds does Antony claim that perfect contrition is psychologically impossible for a theist?  It is not at all clear that theistic conviction makes perfect contrition psychologically impossible.  However, we can set that problem aside for there is a much more serious issue facing this argument.  Antony herself recognized that the argument contains a contradiction insofar as it implies both that God does not exist and that God will refrain from punishing someone for believing that God does not exist.  Obviously, a non-existent God cannot do (or refrain from doing) anything.  While Antony eventually abandoned this admittedly incoherent argument, she explains that it was this argument that first helped her to see the independence of morality and theism.  Specifically, the argument caused her to ask this question: Why would God prefer perfect contrition to imperfect contrition?  On one hand, if there were no reason, then God’s preference would be arbitrary.  This result seems unacceptable.  On the other hand, if there is a reason that God should prefer one to the other, then that reason is something independent of God – and, so, the moral rightness of preferring perfect contrition to imperfect contrition is a moral standard independent of God.  Of course, the line of reasoning that Antony stumbled into here is similar to that found in Plato’s classic argument known as the Euthyphro Dilemma. 

Antony explains that the relevant question posed by Socrates in his dilemma is this: Do the gods love pious actions because they are pious – or are actions pious simply as the result of being loved by the gods?  She says that translating the question into modern terms yields the following question:  Are some actions moral simply in virtue of God’s choice to favor them – or does God favor those actions because they are morally good independently of what God favors?  Either answer to this question is supposed to constitute a problem for theists who want to say that ethics depends on God.  According to the first option (which she calls Divine Command Theory), if God commands us to torture children, then it would be right and morally obligatory for us to do so.  However, this cuts strongly against the moral intuitions of most people (p. 71).  According to the second option (which she calls Divine Independence Theory), that which is morally right or wrong does not depend on God.  In fact, she says that if Craig claims it is impossible or inconceivable for God to command something like torturing children, then even Craig should be considered a Divine Independence Theorist.  She adds that only “the theorist who believes that right and wrong are independent of God’s commands could have any basis for thinking that she or he knows in advance what God would or would not command” (pp. 72-73).  She then points out that if Divine Command Theory were correct, then it would reduce morality to a set of rules that is no less arbitrary than the rules of etiquette (pp. 72-73).  She illustrates the arbitrary nature of morality on Divine Command Theory with an extended discussion of the Biblical account of Abraham being commanded by God to sacrifice Isaac – and she suggests that the attempts of theists to resolve the problem presented in this text actually suggest the truth of Divine Independence Theory (pp. 77-79).  She then suggests that Divine Independence Theory appears to be at odds with saying that God (at least as described in the Old Testament) is a moral agent. 

Now all of this is very interesting, but it turns out that she has missed Craig’s fundamental point – namely, that God’s nature is the Good itself.  Further, according to Craig, given that God and the Good are identical, God cannot simply give any arbitrary command (but can only issue commands consistent with the divine nature).  Craig explicitly states in the debate that, “on the theistic view, objective moral values are rooted in God” (p. 30).  Craig adds, “He is the locus and source of moral value. … He is by nature loving, generous, just, faithful, kind, and so forth” (p. 30).  On this approach, Craig is free to say that God cannot command anything in an arbitrary fashion (despite Antony’s insistence otherwise).  Moreover, on Craig’s approach, he can still maintain that morality is dependent on God insofar as the paradigm of moral goodness is located in God’s nature (so that, had there been no God, there would be no moral truths).  If Craig’s view is right, then morality is nothing like arbitrary rules of etiquette.  Further, on this approach, there is no reason for Antony to maintain that we could not predict what God would command (at least in some cases) – especially if God makes some of those commands known to us by way of conscience or various other mechanisms.  This is a much more plausible reading of Craig’s position than what Antony provides.  Beyond this failure to engage Craig’s position, there are three particular claims made by Antony towards the end of her essay that need to be addressed.

First, Antony claims that a glaring problem with Craig’s view is that “he offers no argument for the particular claims that there is no morality without God.  What he does instead is cite authorities” (p. 81).  Somehow, she crucially misses the point that the ideas supporting Craig’s claim are found in the cited materials – even if they are not spelled out as formal arguments.  So, one may ask why Craig thinks that naturalistic forms of atheism entail that there is no morality.  Craig specifically answers this question.  He says, “After all, on the atheistic view, there’s nothing special about human beings.  They’re just accidental by-products of nature that have evolved relatively recently on an infinitesimal speck of dust called the planet Earth” (p. 31).  Craig adds, “On an atheistic view, moral values are just by-products of sociobiological evolution” and that such values might be “advantageous in the struggle for survival,” but that “on the atheistic view” there is nothing that would lead one to think that such values are “objectively true” (pp. 31-32).  To state Craig’s argument with greater precision, we get the following:

(5)  If atheistic naturalism is true, then human values are only subjective judgments brought about as by-products of our sociobiological evolution.  

(6)  If human values are only subjective judgements brought about as the by-products of our sociobiological evolution, then there is no objective morality. 

Therefore:

(7)  If atheistic naturalism is true, then there is no objective morality.  (From 5 & 6 by Hypothetical Syllogism)

 Now, this argument might be unconvincing to Antony.  This argument might even be entirely dubious.  However, whether or not it is a good or bad argument, it is mystifying why Antony would say that Craig offers no supporting reasons for his claim that there is no morality without God – and this was not the only supporting reason he offered for his position.  The fact that Craig drew the content of these premises from the citation of other authors is manifestly irrelevant.  

Second, toward the end of the essay, Antony says that Craig does not “acknowledge, much less endeavor to answer, the main objection to his own position, the objection found in the Euthyphro” (p. 81).  Given that Craig has formulated a position that avoids the typical problems associated with the Euthyphro Dilemma, it seems odd that Antony would make this claim.  It appears as if she is committing the straw man fallacy against Craig’s position.  In other words, Antony is criticizing a view similar to Craig’s but which is not, in fact, Craig’s position.  To see why this is the case, we need to review Antony’s presentation of the Euthyphro Dilemma.   Specifically, we need to focus on that horn of the dilemma that says that morality being dependent on God would make it arbitrary.  Antony suggests that if Divine Command Theory is true, then God could command heinous acts (like torturing animals and killing children for pleasure) and then those acts would be morally required – or God could just as easily command the opposite (so that heinous acts would be morally prohibited).  However, she thinks that such actions are so obviously wrong that not even God commanding those actions could make them morally right or obligatory.  In other words, she appears to hold that the truth of Divine Command Theory would make the truths of morality contingent rather than necessarily true.  She thinks that this result counts as evidence against the truth of Divine Command Theory.  However, there are some significant problems with this line of thought.  

To begin, there is not just one version of Divine Command Theory.  There are versions of Divine Command Theory that are vulnerable to this line of thought – namely, those versions of Divine Command Theory that explicitly stipulate that if God were to command heinous acts, then we would be morally obligated to do those actions.  We can refer to that sort of Divine Command Theory as Radically Voluntarist Divine Command Theory.  So, applying Antony’s objection, we get the following argument: 

(8)  If Radically Voluntarist Divine Command Theory is true, then heinous actions could be morally obligatory. 

(9)  Morally heinous actions could never be morally obligatory.  

Therefore: 

(10)  Radically Voluntarist Divine Command Theory is not true.  (From 8 & 9 by Modus Tollens)

In this argument, the conclusion follows from the premises, but are its premises true?  Some defenders of Radically Voluntarist Divine Command Theory think that this argument can be overcome.  In particular, one may consult Paul Rooney’s book, Divine Command Morality (Avebury, 1996; especially Chapter 6).  However, as we have already mentioned, this is not the only version of Divine Command Theory, and in fact it is quite rare.  Since it is Craig’s view of Divine Command Theory that is being discussed here, the only relevant question is whether Craig endorses Radically Voluntarist Divine Command Theory.  The answer to that is “no.”  One could hardly fault Craig if he were to look at the conclusions expressed in (10) and ask, “What does that have to do with me?”  Further, Craig could point out that the divine nature is loving and merciful and add that the divine nature just is the standard of the Good from which God issues divine commands.  In short, Antony seems to be misrepresenting Craig’s view.  Louise Antony needs to demonstrate that Craig’s version of Divine Command Theory is (despite appearances) radically voluntarist.  It clearly is not; in answer to the Euthyphro Dilemma, Craig splits the horns and distinguishes between the good and the right, embracing a divine nature theory of goodness and a Divine Command Theory of the right.  Until Antony can show why Craig’s view is vulnerable to her arbitrariness objection, Craig would be justified in dismissing this criticism as an irrelevant misrepresentation (because it is aimed at a different version of Divine Command Theory).

However, Antony could try to change the argument above to include Craig’s position.  She might be thinking that all versions of Divine Command Theory entail the moral permissibility of heinous acts.  If so, then her argument amounts to the claim that any version of Divine Command Theory somehow dissolves or cancels out the necessary status of moral truths.  If this is her argument, then she is committing a different fallacy – namely, the fallacy of begging the question (that is, assuming what needs to be proved).  David Baggett and Jerry Walls explain the problem Antony faces in their book, Good God: The Theistic Foundations of Morality (Oxford, 2011): 

What seems to be going on in the argument is that Antony and Sinnott-Armstrong are attempting to drive a subtle wedge between God and necessary [moral] truth.  …  One suspects, then, that she’s implicitly assuming without argument that the necessary truth of morality, if such there be, is independent of God.  But this is question begging and, though not an uncommon assumption, is open to dispute.  (p. 211; Appendix A)

In other words, Antony needs to provide some sort of compelling reason to dispute the idea that the necessity of moral truth resides in (or depends on, or is identical to) the divine nature.  Until she (or someone else) does so, Craig is justified in dismissing her assumption against his view as ineffectual.  In concert with such contemporary thinkers as Thomas Morris, Chris Menzel, Robert Adams, and many others (not to mention several luminaries from the history of philosophy), Craig affirms that necessary moral truths can plausibly be thought to depend essentially on God.

Third, at the end of the essay, Antony begins to engage in character assassination (or the ad hominem fallacy).  She writes, “I have the dark suspicion that Dr. Craig is not really interested in engaging with atheists in rational discussion, but rather is speaking exclusively to his theistic contingency, with the aim of reinforcing for them the vile stereotype of atheists so prevalent in American society” (p. 81).  So, rather than engaging Craig on the substance of his arguments, Antony (without the slightest evidence) chooses to waste time by raising dubious and unfounded questions about Craig’s alleged motives.  Further, she says nothing that would reconcile her dark suspicions that Craig wants to reinforce vile stereotypes about atheists with Craig’s clear and explicit assertion, “Let me just say at the outset, as clearly as I can, that I agree that a person can be moral without having belief in God” (p. 29).  Craig states this as the very first sentence of his opening statement in the debate.  This fact does not boost one’s confidence that Antony read carefully (or even understood) the case that Craig makes.  So, how does Craig’s claim (that atheists can be moral without believing in God) reinforce stereotypes about the immorality of atheists?  Antony does not say.  If Craig is trying to reinforce vile stereotypes about how evil atheists are, then he is rather bad at it.  Antony’s choice to end her essay by focusing on Craig’s alleged motives (rather than his arguments) is more than a little disappointing, and likely predicated on her uncharitable failure to distinguish between what Craig said of atheists themselves (on one hand) and of the position of atheism itself (on the other hand).

Making Sense of Morality: An Introduction to Postmodernism

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Editor’s note: R. Scott Smith has graciously allowed us to republish his series, “Making Sense of Morality.” You can find the original post here.

Introduction to Postmodernism

Postmodernism is the last major kind of ethical views I will survey. Since it is post-modern, we will need to survey the modern era’s traits to which postmoderns are responding. In this essay, I will explore some of the historical and sociological factors leading to postmodernity, along with some key philosophical positions, too.

Historical, Sociological Influences

People date modernity’s beginning differently, but we can point to the rise of the Scientific Revolution with Gassendi’s and Hobbes’s influences in the 16th century, and the related scientific shifts then and in the 17th century. As a first trait, modernity was marked by a tendency to believe in the inevitability of progress from scientific discoveries, particularly from the theory of evolution. Due to this progress, humankind could get better and better.

In sharp contrast, in postmodernity, people are far less trusting of science’s inherent goodness. They have witnessed the 20th century, with two world wars, concentration camps, genocides, and mass murders. (Indeed, some mark the end of modernity with World War II.) Nazis used medical science to perpetrate gross experiments upon Jewish and other subjects. Science also provided the most destructive weapon yet developed, the nuclear bomb. So, people therefore are far less trusting that science and scientists are working just for peoples’ good.

Second, moderns had confidence in human reason, apart from divine revelation, to know universal truths. For example, witness Descartes’s (d. 1650) view of having certainty as a foundation for our beliefs. But, postmoderns stress the fallibility of human reason and its biases, and how all too often people use it to oppress others. Further, they reject knowledge of universal truths; we know truths from our particular standpoints (such as a community and its formative narrative).

Third, in modernity,people tended to trust their political and religious leaders. Yet, there have been many political scandals and cover-ups which have eroded that trust. Scandals also surfaced amongst religious leaders, such as accusations of molestation by Catholic priests. Many assume televangelists simply want money. In postmodernity,people have grown suspicious from the fallout of these betrayals of trust.

Fourth, moderns tend to think we can find objective, universal truths that apply to everyone. There are normative ways for all cultures to live. However, to postmoderns, that idea seems oppressive and imperialistic. 

Philosophical Influences 

We already have seen major shifts in western history from universals to nominalism; from mind-body dualism to materialism, and with both of these, a turn to empiricism; and from the view that we can know reality directly to historicism. But, postmodernity is not a complete rejection of what developed during modernity. Even though we have seen the above mentioned sociological and historical shifts in mindsets in postmodernity, postmoderns continue the modern focus on nominalism with its rejection of universals with their essences. For instance, they focus on knowledge being tied to particular “forms of life” (or communities, social groups). We are so shaped by our situatedness (the various social, familial, historical, cultural factors that shape how we interpret and understand life) that we cannot gaze directly into reality from a universal standpoint. Moreover, they tend to reject an essential nature to all humans, leading some toward materialism.

A key factor in postmodern thought is the turn to interpretation. This reflects a further turn than just the “turn to language.” We already have seen how Nietzsche placed much stress on how we use our words. Often, in modernity, the focus was on individual sentences that could be understood by anyone due to their universal meaning. However, for postmoderns, the focus is on holism: meaning is found in a whole – a form of life – which cannot be separated from its language and formative story, or narrative. And, we all speak different languages. Meanings then are a matter of how we use language (i.e., verbal and nonverbal behavior) in a given form of life, according to the “grammar” of that community.

Next, I will explore the views of a particular ethicist, Alasdair MacIntyre, who writes in light of the postmodern turn.

For Further Reading

R. Scott Smith, In Search of Moral Knowledge, ch. 8


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R. Scott Smith is a Christian philosopher and apologist, with special interests in ethics, knowledge, and seeing the body of Christ live in the fullness of the Spirit and truth.


Divine Command Theory and the Euthyphro Dilemma: Part IV

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Editor’s note: This article was originally posted at MandM. It has been posted here with permission of author.


This is a talk I gave to the Philosophy Club at Glendale Community College in Phoenix, Arizona, this weekend. The talk was followed by a long discussion with some faculty, students at the college, and others who zoomed in.

In this talk, I introduced and defended a divine command theory of ethics. I divided the talk into three parts. In section I, I set out what modern divine command theories of ethics typically contend. I distinguished this from some common misunderstandings in section II. In Section III, I discussed the Euthyphro dilemma. I argued this objection is not the conclusive rebuttal it is often assumed to be. In my first post, I reproduced sections I and II. My second post began my discussion of the Euthyphro objection in section III. Focusing on the Anything Goes Objection. My third post examined the claim that a divine command theory would, if true, entail that morality is arbitrary. This post concludes this discussion. 


In my last post, I argued that divine command theories do not entail that morality is arbitrary. If anything, the opposite is the case. A divine command theory entails that actions will be wrong in virtue of those actions’ non-moral properties, properties that would provide an informed, loving and just person with reasons for prohibiting those actions.

The Vacuity Objection

Finally, critics press what is known as the vacuity objection. A divine command theory entails that “the doctrine of the goodness of God is rendered meaningless”[1]  Oppy puts the objection forcefully: “It cannot be…that God’s commands or decisions determine what is morally good because God is morally good prior to the giving of those commands or the making of those decisions.”[2]  If God is essentially good, he must be good prior to the issue any commands. However, this means that goodness cannot depend upon the existence of these commands. If it did, goodness would exist prior to itself. 

Like the previous objection, I think this one is based on an equivalent. In the first section of this talk, I pointed out that the word “good” is ambiguous”. I stated that a divine command theory is an account of moral requirements, not an account of goodness in general. This observation is essential here. When divine command theorists say God’s commands determine what is good, they mean only that the existence of moral obligations or moral requirements depends upon God. By contrast, when a divine command theorist says God is good, he means by this that God has certain character traits: God is loving, just, impartial, faithful, in all possible worlds.  

But the question of whether someone has certain character traits is distinct from whether they have moral requirements to behave in a certain way. 

Consider a nihilist who denies the existence of objective moral requirements. This nihilist could, if he wanted, choose to live in accord with the norms of justice and could decide to be a faithful, loving and impartial person. What he could not do is claim that there exists any moral obligation to live this way.[3] 

This distinction removes the sting from Oppy’s objection. God’s commands determine the existence and content of moral requirements. This does not mean his commands determine whether people can have certain character traits. Consequently, God can have these character traits prior to giving any commands.

Even if, antecedent to commanding, God has no moral duties, it does not follow that he can’t have certain character traits. Traits such as being truthful, benevolent, loving, gracious, merciful. Nor does it mean he is not opposed to actions such as murder, rape, torturing people for fun, and so on. If God has no duties, he is not under any obligation to love others or tell the truth, but that does not mean he cannot love others or be truthful. God does not have to have a duty to do something to do it.

 Conclusion

The “anything goes,” “arbitrariness,” and “vacuity” objections, therefore, all fail. This is significant because these are the three reasons commonly given for rejecting Divine command theories. Almost everyone who dismisses the claim that morality is dependent upon God cites these three objections as decisive. Seeing that these objections all fail, in the absence of further argument, one cannot proclaim with any confidence that a divine command theory is a flawed theory.


[1] James Rachels, Elements of Moral Philosophy (New York: Mcgraw-hill Education, 2003), 50.

[2]Graham Oppy, “Morality Does Not Depend Upon God,” in Problems in Philosophy: An Introduction to the Major Debates on Knowledge, Reality, Values, and Government, ed. Steve Cowan (Bloomsbury Publishing House, Forthcoming 2018).

[3] For this point, see John L. Mackie, Ethics: Inventing Right and Wrong (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1981), 26-27.  

Matthew Flannagan

Dr. Matthew Flannagan is a theologian with proficiency in contemporary analytic philosophy. He holds a PhD in Theology from the University of Otago, a Master's (with First Class Honours), and a Bachelor's in Philosophy from the University of Waikato; he also holds a post-graduate diploma in secondary teaching from Bethlehem Tertiary Institute. He currently works as an independent researcher and as teaching pastor at Takanini Community Church in Auckland, New Zealand.

Divine Command Theory and the Euthyphro Dilemma: Part 3

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Editor’s note: This article was originally posted at MandM. It has been posted here with permission of author.



This is a talk I gave to the Philosophy Club at Glendale Community College in Phoenix, Arizona, this weekend. The talk was followed by a long discussion with some faculty, students at the college, and others who zoomed in.

In this talk, I introduced and defended a divine command theory of ethics. I divided the talk into three parts. In section I, I set out what modern divine command theories of ethics typically contend. I distinguished this from some common misunderstandings in section II. In Section III, I discussed the Euthyphro dilemma. I will suggest this objection is not the conclusive rebuttal it is often assumed to be. In my first post, I reproduced sections I and II. My second post began my discussion of the Euthyphro objection in section III. This post continues that discussion. 

In my last post, I argued that a divine command theory does not entail the content of morality is arbitrary, in the sense that anything at all could be right or wrong. It entails that an action can only be permissible, only in situations where it is possible for a fully informed, rational, loving and just person to command it knowingly. Far from being absurd, this implication is entirely plausible. 

Some have objected that divine command theory makes morality arbitrary in a different sense. It means there is no reason why one action is right or wrong rather than another. Russ Shafer-Landau presses the following dilemma: “Either there are, or there are not, excellent reasons that support God’s prohibitions. If there are no such reasons, then God’s choice is arbitrary, i.e. insufficiently well supported by reason and argument.” [1] Alternatively:

If God is, in fact, issuing commands based on excellent reasons, then it is those excellent reasons and not the fact of God’s having commanded various actions, that make those actions right. The excellent reasons that support the requirements of charity and kindness are what make it right to be charitable and kind.[2]

We can summarise this argument as follows, take a paradigmatically immoral action such as rape.

(P1) Either (a) God has a reason for prohibiting rape, or (b) God has no reason for prohibiting rape. 

(P2) If God has no reason for prohibiting rape, then God’s commands are arbitrary. 

(P3) If God has a reason for prohibiting rape, then that reason is what makes rape morally wrong. 

(P4) If something distinct from God’s commands is what makes rape morally wrong, then the divine command theory is false.  

(C1) Either morality is arbitrary, or the divine command theory is false 

This argument is based on a subtle equivocation. (P3) and (P4) refer to what “makes” something morally right. But the word “makes” is ambiguous. 

In this context, Stephen Sullivan has argued that the word “make” can be used in two different senses.[3] The first sense refers to what Sullivan calls a constitutive explanation: On a hot February day, I pour a glass of water to drink it and quench my thirst. There is a legitimate sense in which I can say that what makes me pour a glass of water is the fact that I am pouring a glass of H20. When I speak like this, I use the word “makes” to refer to a relationship of identity. I am explaining one thing (the pouring of the water) but citing the existence of another thing that I take to be identical with it.

The second sense involves what Sullivan calls a motivational explanation, such as when I state that what makes me pour a glass of water is the fact that I am thirsty. Motivational explanations do not explain an action by referring to something taken to be identical with it. Instead, they attempt to tell us why an agent acted the way they did by giving us the reasons and motivations the agent acted upon. 

Let’s assume that Landau is using the word “makes” in the “motivational” sense. The inference is:

(P1) Either (a) God has reasons for prohibiting rape, or (b) God doesn’t have reasons for prohibiting rape. 

(P2) If God doesn’t have reasons for prohibiting rape, then God’s commands are arbitrary. 

(P3)’ If God has reasons for prohibiting rape, then those reasons motivationally explain why rape is morally wrong.  

(P4)’ If something distinct from God’s commands motivationally explain why rape is morally wrong, then a divine command theory is false.  

(C1) Either morality is arbitrary, or the divine command theory is false. 

On this interpretation of the argument (P3)’ is plausible. Suppose God has reasons for issuing the commands he does, and the property of being wrong is identical with the property of being contrary to God’s commands. In that case, these reasons do provide a motivational explanation as to why rape is wrong. However, (P4′) is false. The fact that God’s prohibition does not motivationally explain the wrongness of rape is wrong does not entail that the prohibition is not identical to the moral wrongness of rape. Divine command theories contend that wrongness is identical with the property of being contrary to God’s commands. So it only in the constitutive sense of the word “makes” that they deny anything other than God’s commands “make” actions wrong. 

Consequently, For Shafer-Landau’s argument to have a bite, he must use the word “makes” to refer to a constitutional explanation. So interpreted, the argument is:

(P1) Either: (a) God has reasons for prohibiting rape, or (b) God doesn’t have reasons for prohibiting rape. 

(P2) If God doesn’t have reasons for prohibiting rape, then God’s commands are arbitrary. 

(P3)” If God has reasons for prohibiting rape, then those reasons are identical with the property of moral wrongness.   

(P4)” If something distinct from God’s commands is identical with the property of moral wrongness, then a divine command theory is false.  

(C1) Either morality is arbitrary, or the divine command theory is false. 

On this interpretation (P4)” is plausible, if something distinct from God’s prohibition is identical with wrongness. God’s prohibition cannot be identical with wrongness.

However, now (P3)” turns out to be implausible. Why should the fact that God has reasons for issuing a command mean that those reasons are identical with the property of being morally wrong? The Landau seems to assume the following inference: If A is identical to B, and someone has reasons r for bringing about B, then A is identical with r.  However, this inference is invalid. An analogy will show this; A Batchelor is identical to an unmarried man, John has reasons for being unmarried, he dislikes women. Does it follow that the property of being a Bachelor is identical with the property of disliking women?[4]

Landau’s argument, therefore, is unsound. Graham Oppy proposes a more direct argument for the conclusion that a divine command theory makes morality arbitrary:

Could it have been, for example, that murder, rape, lying, stealing and cheating were good because God proclaimed them so? Surely not! But what could explain God’s inability to bring it about, that murder, rape, lying, stealing and cheating are good by proclaiming them so, other than its being the case that murder, rape, lying, stealing and cheating are wrong quite apart from any proclamations that God might make?[5]

However, this is implausible. Suppose God has character traits such as being essentially loving and just. In that case, God can and would have reasons for prohibiting actions like rape, murder, or cheating, quite apart from whether these actions are antecedently wrong. Antecedent to any command on God’s part, these actions won’t have the property of being morally prohibited. But they could still have other properties such as being cruel or harmful or unjust or detrimental to human happiness— or being expressions of hatred, for example. And a loving and just God could prohibit these actions because these actions have these non-moral properties.

Consequently, divine command theories do not entail that morality is arbitrary. If anything, the opposite is the case. A divine command theory entails that actions will be wrong in virtue of certain non-moral properties those actions have. Non-moral properties that would provide an informed, loving and just person with reasons for prohibiting those actions.

[1] Russ Shafer-Landau, “Introduction to Part IV,” in Ethical Theory: An Anthology, ed. Russ Shafer-Landau (Malden MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2007), 237.

[2]Ibid., 238.

[3] Stephen Sullivan, “Arbitrariness, Divine Commands, and Morality,” International Journal of Philosophy of Religion 33:1 (1993): 33-45.

[4] These points are made cogently by Stephen Sullivan, “Arbitrariness, Divine Commands, and Morality,” 37-39. See also Matthew Flannagan’s, “Is Ethical Naturalism More Plausible than Supernaturalism: A Reply to Walter Sinnott-Armstrong,” Philo 15:1 (2012): 19-37.

[5]  Graham. Oppy, Best Argument against God (Hampshire: Palgrave Pivot, 2014), 44.

Divine Command Theory and the Euthyphro Dilemma: Part 2

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Editor’s note: This article was originally posted at MandM. It has been posted here with permission of author.


This is a talk I gave to the Philosophy Club at Glendale Community College in Phoenix, Arizona, this weekend. The talk was followed by a long discussion with some faculty, students at the college, and others who zoomed in.

 In this talk, I introduced and defended a divine command theory of ethics. The talk was divided into three parts. In section I, I set out what modern divine command theories of ethics typically contend. I distinguished this from some common misunderstandings in section II. In Section III, I discussed the Euthyphro dilemma. I will suggest this objection is not the conclusive rebuttal it is often assumed to be. In my first post, I reproduced sections I and II. This post will begin my discussion of the Euthyphro objection in section III. 


In my last post, I argued that semantic and epistemic objections to a divine command theory fail. However, the most famous and important objection to divine command theories is an argument known as “The Euthyphro Objection”. After a dialogue written by the ancient Greek philosopher Plato in the 4th century BC. Plato’s original argument is somewhat obscure and applied only to polytheistic religions (those religions that believe in many gods). However, the version used by philosophers today is an adaptation of Plato’s argument for use against monotheistic faiths. Critics of divine command theories appeal to three arguments that are loosely associated with Plato’s dialogue. These are (1) the anything goes objection, (2) the arbitrariness objection, and (3) the vacuity objection. I will take each in turn.

The Anything Goes Objection

One objection is that a divine command theory makes morality arbitrary in the sense that anything at all could be right or wrong. King and Garcia explain the alleged problem in this way:

[Divine command theory] implies that it is possible for any kind of action, such as rape, not to be wrong. But it seems intuitively impossible for rape not to be wrong. So [Divine command theory] is at odds with our common-sense intuitions about rape.[1]

We can formalise the objection as follows:

(P1) If the divine command theory is true, then whatever God commands is morally required.

(P2) God could command rape.

(C1) So, if the divine command theory is true, rape could be morally obligatory.

(P3) But rape could not be morally obligatory.

(C2) Therefore, the divine command theory is false.

In response, divine command theorists have contested (P2) Divine command theorists do not contend that moral requirements are dependent upon the commands of just anyone. They base moral obligations on the commands of God conceived in a particular way. God is an all-powerful, all-knowing, essentially loving, just, immaterial person who created the universe on their conception. Once we realize this, the horrendous deeds objection appears to be unsound.

We can put this in terms of a dilemma: consider (P2): (P2) only holds if it is possible for a fully informed, rational, loving and just person to knowingly command rape. However, this is unlikely. Critics cite examples of rape because they view it as an action that no virtuous person could ever knowingly entertain. So (P2) appears to be false. However, suppose; I am mistaken about this. It is possible for an essentially loving and just person to command rape. Rape, then, would only be commanded in situations where a just and loving person aware of all the relevant facts could endorse it. Under these circumstances, it is hard to see how (P3) could be maintained.

Once we realize that God, as conceived by the divine command theorist, is essentially loving and just, it is difficult, if not impossible, to see how both (P2) and (P3) can be true. Whatever reasons we have for thinking (P2) is true seem to undermine (P3). By contrast, whatever reasons we have for accepting (P3) undermine (P2).


[1]Nathan L King, “Introduction”, in Is Goodness without God Good Enough: A Debate on Faith, Secularism and Ethics, eds. Robert K Garcia and Nathan L King (Lanham: Rowan & Littlefield Publishers, 2008), 11.

Matthew Flannagan

Dr. Matthew Flannagan is a theologian with proficiency in contemporary analytic philosophy. He holds a PhD in Theology from the University of Otago, a Master's (with First Class Honours), and a Bachelor's in Philosophy from the University of Waikato; he also holds a post-graduate diploma in secondary teaching from Bethlehem Tertiary Institute. He currently works as an independent researcher and as teaching pastor at Takanini Community Church in Auckland, New Zealand.