Philosophy


On pages 148-155 of Naming and Necessity, Saul Kripke concludes his book by setting forth an argument against type-type identity theory (the view that that any given mental state is identical to a brain state). Kripke argues that a mental state (pain) cannot be identical to a brain state (C-fiber stimulation) because if the aforementioned states are identical, then they must be so necessarily; and since we can conceive of one state existing without the other, they cannot be identical. Below, I shall set forth a general argument (with explanatory comments) which demonstrates the basis of Kripke’s reasoning and then cite Krikpe’s example from the text (also with explanatory comments).

1. If X is a rigid designator and Y is a rigid designator, and if the statement “X is identical to Y” is true, then the statement “X is identical to Y” is necessarily true.

• An example of the above is “Mark Twain is identical to Samuel Clemens”. Since both of these names are rigid designators, then “Mark Twain is identical to Samuel Clemens” is true in every possible world in which these rigid designators pick out an individual. On the other hand, the statement “Mark Twain is identical to the author of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” is composed of the rigid designator “Mark Twain” and the non-rigid designator “the author of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer”. While these two designators may be identical in the actual world, it is possible that someone else could have written The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. Thus, the latter example of identity is not necessary.

2. X is a rigid designator.

3. Y is a rigid designator.

4. However, “X is identical to Y” is not necessarily true.

5. Therefore, “X is identical to Y” is not true.

Below is a reconstruction of Kripke’s specific example involving “pain” and “C-fiber stimulation”:

1. If “pain” is a rigid designator and “C-fiber stimulation” is a rigid designator, then the statement “pain is identical to C-fiber stimulation” is necessarily true.

• Kripke anticipates that some people will object that the identity statement above cannot be necessary since it is known a posteriori. However, Kripke points out that the statement “pain is identical to C-fiber stimulation” is analogous to other necessary identity statements that are known a posteriori such as “water is identical to H2O” or “heat is identical to molecular motion”. Besides this, Kripke demonstrates early on (pp. 35-37) that some necessary truths are known a posteriori (like certain mathematical proofs that require a great deal of calculation).

2. “Pain” is a rigid designator.

• Once again Kripke anticipates objections to the above premise. He asserts that “pain” is a rigid designator because it picks out what it refers to by an essential property (the sensation of painfulness). It is impossible to conceive of pain existing without the property of “feeling painful”.

3. “C-fiber stimulation” is a rigid designator.

4. However, “pain is identical to C-fiber stimulation” is not necessarily true.

• It is possible to conceive of a world in which one can exist without the other.

5. Therefore, “pain is identical to C-fiber stimulation” is not true.

I must confess that the above argument appears to be a powerful refutation of identity theory. It seems to me that the only way out of the conclusion is to either deny Krikpe’s semantics or argue convincingly that either “pain” or “C-fiber stimulation” or both are not rigid designators.

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            In an effort to avoid skepticism, Fred Dretske advocates the rejection of closure; the epistemic principle that asserts that knowledge is closed under known entailment.  Thus, if S knows P and S knows that P entails Q, and S comes to believe Q on the basis of this entailment, then S knows Q.  Dretske asserts that we have only two choices in regards to knowledge: one is that we retain closure and accept skepticism concerning ordinary knowledge that we take for granted (I have hands, etc.), the other is that we deny closure and keep ordinary knowledge (Dretske, 23).  According to Dretske, the denial of closure is the most reasonable choice.  John Hawthorne disagrees with Dretske and argues in favor of closure because he believes the denial of closure leads to more serious implications than any of the other options available.

            Why does Dretske think that closure demands skepticism?  Consider the following example: 

  1. Sarah knows that there is a farmer standing in the distant field (P) because she sees one. 
  2. Sarah also knows that that the fact that there is a farmer in the field entails that it is not the case that there is not a farmer in the field but an incredibly lifelike, animatronic scarecrow instead (Q). 
  3. Thus, according to closure, Sarah can know Q on the basis of her knowledge that P entails Q.

Yet can Sarah actually know that what she sees is not a scarecrow?  Has she taken the time to walk to the field and observe what she takes to be a farmer to make sure that she has not been deceived?  And if Sarah does not know if she is looking at a scarecrow, then she cannot know that there is a farmer in the field: P à Q, ~ Q, therefore ~ P.  Indeed, it seems that possession of ordinary knowledge seems to presuppose the knowledge one is not being deceived, which Dretske refers to as protoknowledge (14).  However it seems highly unintuitive for Sarah to claim knowledge of Q without any evidence.  Thus skepticism prevails.

            One may ask why Sarah does not have evidence of Q if she has evidence of P.  Consider the evidence that constitutes knowledge of P: Sarah sees the farmer standing in the field (maybe he is waving his arm, or is bent over engaging in a hoeing motion), and due to her past experience with such perceptions, she formulates the belief that she is indeed seeing a farmer in the field.  Yet Sarah’s evidence for P is not transmissible to Q.  She cannot know that she is being deceived by a robotic scarecrow by simply looking at the distant field; such knowledge would require different evidence.  This problem is further magnified with the introduction of Dretske’ “heavyweight implications” (Cartesian demons, brains in vats, etc.) that are impossible to determine through appeal to perception.  Thus, Dretske argues that the principle of closure decimates any hope for ordinary knowledge, for as long as I cannot know that I am not a brain in a vat being systematically deceived through the machinations of a mad scientist, I cannot even know that I am sitting at a computer writing this paper.

            Dretske considers the aforesaid “heavyweight implications” to be damning to ordinary knowledge if closure holds and leaves us with a choice between (1) skepticism with closure or (2) ordinary knowledge without it.  Dretske chooses the latter.  Thus Sarah can know that she sees a farmer in the field and know that this entails that she is not seeing a scarecrow, yet still not know that she is not seeing a scarecrow.

            Hawthorne argues against Dretske, not so much by offering a solution to the problem of closure, but by pointing out that the denial of closure leads to greater problems than it proposes to solve.  One such problem is that the denial of the intuitive principle of closure leads to the denial of the even more intuitive principle of distribution as well (Hawthorne, 31-32).  Whereas closure is bases upon logical entailment, distribution is based upon logical equivalence.  Thus the proposition “there is a farmer in the field” is equivalent to the conjunction “there is a farmer in the field and it is not the case that there is not a farmer in the field but an animatronic scarecrow instead”.  Thus, according to distribution, Sarah is in a position to know “that it is not the case that there is not a farmer in the field but an animatronic scarecrow instead”.  However, it is incredibly difficult to see how one can know the conjunction of P and Q but not know Q.  Indeed, Hawthorne demonstrates that the rejection of closure is not nearly as appealing as Dretske claims.

            Yet, as previously mentioned, Hawthorne does not resolve the problems inherent in retaining closure.  He even goes so far as to present his own closure implied quandary in his “Misprint” example (39).  To restate the puzzle:  I know from reading the newspaper that the Panthers defeated the Packers last Sunday.  This, in turn, entails that it is not the case that the story was a misprint and it was the Packers who actually defeated the Panthers instead.  However, it seems incredibly odd to say that I know that there was not a misprint because I know that Panthers won because I read the paper.  This is like telling a skeptical friend “If you don’t believe me just ask me!”

            Hawthorne gives Contextualism as a possible resolution to the problem of closure but readily admits the problems inherent in this view (one of which is that philosophers should rank among the most ignorant people in the world due to their understanding of skepticism!).  Hawthorne – as well as Dretske’s response – leaves us with the following type of concept:  “All the options are bad, but we have to pick the one that seems the most intuitively plausible.”  Dretske thinks the denial of closure is the most plausible while Hawthorne argues that doing so leads to more implausibility than not.

            I agree that both horns of Dretske’s dilemma (23) are unpalatable, and I think that neither philosopher presents a compelling solution to the problem of closure; however I am more willing to accept skepticism than to deny the principle of closure; especially since denying closure appears tantamount to denying logical equivalence as well.  Indeed, it is my regard for logic that compels me to side with Hawthorne.  It seems as though the denial of closure comes very close to a denial of logic and I cannot comprehend how it is possible that I can know P à ~ P yet not know ~ P.  Like Dretske and Hawthorne I have no compelling solution to the problems that closure presents (although I sincerely hope to discover one or discover someone who has), but I certainly think that the grass is greener on Hawthorne’s side of the fence.

            By “moral dilemma” I mean a situation in which an agent ought to do A, ought to do B and cannot do both A and B.  Experience seems to validate the existence of such dilemmas, and a plethora of illustrations have been offered as far back as Plato’s question of whether or not to return a promised cache of arms to a man intent on violence[1], to the heart-wrenching decision face by Sophie in Sophie’s Choice[2].  Such apparent dilemmas carry strong intuitive and emotional weight, and it does appear that, in certain circumstances, one is irrevocably caught in the horns of a dilemma which will lead to a failure of duty.  However, I shall argue here that those who support the view that an adequate moral theory must allow for moral dilemmas do so at the cost of rejecting other important principles of adequacy for moral theories.

  There are a number of principles by which a moral theory may be evaluated.  Some of these principles may be regarded as necessary conditions for a moral theory, while others are meta-prescriptive in nature: detailing what a moral theory ought to require of agents[3].  Still others may be regarded as “good-making features” for a moral theory.  In this paper I shall employ the following five principles:

  • P1: A moral theory must be consistent.
  • P2: A moral theory must be action guiding (decision-making procedure).
  • P3: Requirements of a moral theory must be within the power of the agent to perform (“ought” implies “can”).
  • P4: A moral theory must imply that it is morally desirable that agents should seek to avoid moral conflicts.
  • P5: A moral theory must make sense of moral emotions.

      I have listed the principles in order of their respective importance.  (P1) and (P2) may be regarded as necessary conditions of any moral theory.  Indeed, it seems impossible to even conceive of a moral theory which is inconsistent or fails to be action guiding.  While there are a few who deny the truth of (P3), I shall argue below that (P3) can be understood as an extension of (P2).  (P4) is meta-prescriptive in nature, while (P5) may be regarded as a good-making feature of moral theories.

 

(P1). Consistency

The most common charge leveled against those who support moral dilemmas is that of inconsistency.  It is argued that the existence of genuine moral dilemmas leads to an incoherence that, in the words of W. D. Ross, “would be to put an end to all ethical judgment.”[4]  This inconsistency, however, is not as apparent as it initially seems.  Indeed, in order to demonstrate the inconsistency of moral dilemmas, one must first adopt certain principles of deontic logic.

In her essay, “Moral Dilemmas and Consistency”, Ruth Barcan Marcus demonstrates that the existence of moral dilemmas, in themselves, does not lead to a logical contradiction.  Marcus points out that consistency is “a property that such a set has if it is possible for all of the members of the set to be true, in the sense that contradiction would not be a logical consequence of supposing that each member of the set is true.”[5]  Thus moral dilemmas do not necessarily imply inconsistency because it is possible for moral dilemmas to arise contingently yet each principle of the underlying moral theory to be true.

Marcus uses a “silly two-person card game”[6] to illustrate this point.  In this game, black cards trump red cards and high cards trump cards of lower value.  A potential dilemma is cited as occurring when a red ace is turned up against a black deuce.  Initially, this does seem to lead one to conclude that the rules of the game are inconsistent.  However, Marcus points out that such a conclusion is mistaken since it is possible for all the rules to be obeyed in some worlds and for a conflict to never arise.  The rules are contingently inconsistent but not necessarily so. According to Marcus, opponents of moral dilemmas are making the same mistake as the opponents of the card game: they do not recognize that it is possible for moral dilemmas to arise within a moral theory whose underlying principles are all true.

Thus, while opponents of moral dilemmas seek to deny the very possibility of dilemmas, the charge of inconsistency cannot be used insofar as it applies to the truth of ethical principles in themselves.  In order to make the charge of inconsistency stick, one must tie the ethical principles to logical principles so that a moral dilemma can be stated as a logical contradiction (an agent is required to do A and ~ A). 

There are two axioms of deontic logic which are commonly appealed to by opponents of moral dilemmas.  These two principles, when employed together, yield a logical contradiction in moral dilemmas:

  • D1. OA → ~O ~A
    • – If it ought to be that A then it ought to be that not A (it is permissible that A).
  • D2. * (A → B) → (OA & OB)
    • – If it ought to be that A implies B, and if A is obligatory, then B is obligatory.

            Using these two principles, the argument demonstrating the inconsistency of moral dilemmas can be stated thus:

(1) OA
(2) OB
(3) ~¯(A & B)
  (Premises 1, 2, and 3 constitute the standard definition of a moral dilemma.)
(4) OA → ~O ~A                                       (principle D1)
(5) * (AB) → (OAOB)                   (principle D2)
(6) O ~(B & A)                                           (from 3)
(7) O (B → ~A)                                          (from 6)
(8) O (B → ~A) → (OBO ~A)             (from 5)
(9) OBO ~A                                          (from 7 and 8)
(10) O ~A                                                     (from 2 and 9)
(11) OA and O ~A                                        (from 1 and 10)
(12) ~O ~A                                                   (from 1 and 4)
   

            Thus, using the two axioms of deontic logic above leads to a logical contradiction of (10) and (12).

            Any attempt to reject the above argument requires one to deny either (D1) or (D2), or both (D1) and (D2).  While (D1) is so basic that there is little controversy regarding its validity, there have been a few concerns with (D2) (such as Ross’s paradox and forms of the Good Samaritan paradox).  Nonetheless, (D2) still seems to be quite basic and the burden of disqualifying these principles rests firmly upon the shoulders of the supporters of moral dilemmas.

 

(P2). Action Guiding

Another condition of adequacy for any moral theory is that it provides an agent with moral guidance (even if indirectly).  Indeed, one can hardly conceive of a moral theory that does not provide instruction for what one ought to do.  However, many consider (P2) to be too weak, thus leading to the following revision:

P2I: A moral theory must be uniquely action guiding.

            That is, a theory should not fail to offer guidance in a moral situation nor should it recommend incompatible actions to an agent.  Since one of the primary purposes of a moral theory is to give direction to agents, it seems only fitting that a moral theory be uniquely action guiding.  Theories that allow for dilemmas, however, do suggest incompatible actions to agents and thus are not uniquely action guiding. 

            Supporters of moral dilemmas will often point to symmetric cases in which the agent is required to choose between two perfectly equal options.  Take, for example, a mother who has twin daughters suffering from leukemia.  The mother can undergo a bone marrow transplant for only one of the girls, thus the daughter who receives the transplant will live and the other daughter will die.  Supporters of dilemmas argue that in such cases there can be no unique guidance for actions since the choices are equal.

            Given the above example, however, opponents of dilemmas can point out that moral theories can still be uniquely action guiding since symmetrical situations like the one cited above present a disjunctive obligation.  Since the best act that the mother can do in such a situation is to save one of her daughters, then that is her duty.  Indeed, such a concept seems quite natural in other situations.  If a dying wealthy uncle can only choose one of his noble nephews to bequeath his wealth, it hardly seems a moral failure if he does so.  Thus the option of a disjunctive obligation to maintain a uniquely action guiding moral theory is available to those who reject moral dilemmas, while supporters of dilemmas are forced to accept theories that fail to be uniquely action guiding.

 

(P3). ‘Ought’ Implies ‘Can’

The principle of ‘ought’ implies ‘can’ is one of the most intuitive of moral theories.  Many consider it to be a condition of adequacy for moral theories. Essentially, the theory asserts that the requirements of a moral theory must be within the power of the agent to perform; that is, if an agent ought to do an act he should be capable of doing so.  However, those who support the view that an adequate moral theory must allow for moral dilemmas can find the principle to be quite problematic, since opponents of dilemmas have used the principle to argue for the inconsistency of such theories.

            Opponents of dilemmas employ the principle of ‘ought’ implies ‘can’ as well as the agglomeration principle to construct an argument which demonstrates the inconsistency of moral dilemmas.  These two principles are represented thus:

  • D3. A OA → ¯A
    • – For every A, if it ought to be that A, then it is possible that A.
  • D4. (OA & OB) → O (A & B)
    • – If it ought to be that A and it ought to be that B, then it ought to be that A and B.

            With these two principles, the argument can be represented thus:

(1) OA
(2) OB
(3) ~¯(A & B)
  (As above, premises 1, 2, and 3 constitute the standard definition of a moral dilemma.)
(4) A OA → ¯A                                      (principle D3)
(5) (OA & OB) → O (A & B)                     (principle D4)
(6) (OA & OB) → ¯(A & B)                     (an instantiation of 4)
(7) OA & OB                                              (from 1 and 2)
(8) O (A & B)                                             (from 5 and 7)
(9) ~O (A & B)                                           (from 3 and 6)
   

            And so, by employing (D3) and (D4), opponents of dilemmas can demonstrate a contradiction in (8) and (9).

            Supporters of dilemmas have three options available to them in order to avoid the conclusion of the above argument: they can reject (D3), they can reject (D4), or they can reject both (D3) and (D4).  An example of the third option can be found in the fourth chapter of Walter Sinnott-Armstrong’s Moral Dilemmas[7], and since (D4) is widely regarded to be a basic axiom of deontic logic, I will examine Sinnott-Armstrong’s rejection of (D3).

            In rejection of (D3), Sinnott-Armstrong offers what he considers to be an example which demonstrates that there are some cases when a moral agent ought to perform an act but cannot.[8]  In this example Sinnott-Armstrong asks the reader to suppose that Adams promises at noon to meet Brown at 6:00 p. m.  However, Adams chooses to go to a film which starts at 5:00 p. m.  Due to the distance which separates the move theater from the meeting place, Adams will be unable to meet Brown when he promised.  Thus, if the principle (D2) holds, at 5:00 it cannot be true that Adams ought to meet Brown at 6:00, since Adams cannot do so.

            Something does, indeed, seem strange about this account.  Sinnott-Armstrong points to the fact that most people would agree that Adams still ought to meet Brown since he made the promise to do so earlier in the day. Since he cannot however, principle (D2) must be false.

            However, there is something even more troubling about this example which Sinnott-Armstrong fails to point out.  It would appear that principle (D2) grants any agent the option of being relieved from his obligations by simply taking actions to ensure that he cannot fulfill his duty.  Yet this certainly does not seem right.  The problem with the above example is that it fails to take into account the fact that when an Adams willfully placed himself in a situation in which he would be unable to fulfill his obligation he failed to perform his duty at that time.  Therefore it is no longer the case at 5:00 that Adams ought to meet Brown, since Adams has already failed to keep his promise by choosing to go to the film.

            One may still wonder what it is that makes principle (D3) map onto our intuitions so strongly.  I believe that this is because (D3) extends from (D2).  Remember that (D2) states a moral theory must be action guiding; that is, it must be able to give moral direction to agents.  With that in mind, suppose that Jane gives her teenaged son, Ralph, a list of things that need to be done around the house.  The list reads thus:

  • 1. Wash the car and shampoo the carpet at the same time.
  • 2. Mow the lawn and clean the shower at the same time.
  • 3. Clean the oven and fold the laundry at the same.

One can only imagine poor Ralph’s consternation at reading such a list!  Not only will it be impossible for Ralph to follow such directions, this list seems to lack any real direction at all (at least direction that is intended to be followed).  Likewise, moral theories that deny principle (D3), fail – on at least some occasions – to be action guiding.

 

(P4). Avoiding Moral Conflicts

It seems intuitive that a moral theory should direct agents to avoid moral conflicts whenever possible.  Yet some supporters of dilemmas, such as Ruth Marcus, argue that moral dilemmas must exist because there is a moral duty to act in such a way as to prevent moral conflicts:

The point to be made is that, although dilemmas are not settled without residue, the recognition of their reality has a dynamic force.  It motivates us to arrange our lives and institutions with a view to avoiding such conflicts.  It is the underpinning for a second-order regulative principle: that as rational agents with some control of our lives and institutions, we ought to conduct our lives and arrange our institutions so as to minimize moral conflicts.[9]

Marcus’ argument, which is a form of what has been referred to as the “moral residue argument”, can be stated in the following modus ponens form:

  1. If one ought to desire to not knowingly act in such a way as to bring about a moral conflict then moral conflicts are dilemmatic.
  2. One ought to desire to not knowingly act in such a way as to bring about a moral conflict.
  3. Therefore moral conflicts are dilemmatic.

The above argument is valid, so opponents of dilemmas must focus on the truth of the premises, and the second premise (a restatement of (P3)) seems plainly true.  Indeed, Terrance McConnell, a noted opponent of moral dilemmas, acknowledges the truth of the second premise when he states, “One cannot plausibly deny that it is morally desirable for agents to minimize the conflicts they face.”[10]  McConnell, as well as other foes of dilemmas, does take issue with the first premise and argues that there is an alternate explanation that accounts for the moral force of the second premise. 

McConnell gives the example of making a promise to two individuals – Juan and Helga – that you will meet them at a given time.  However, the time at which you promised to meet Juan and Helga is the same so that you cannot fulfill both promises.  McConnell agrees with Marcus that making such a promise is wrong in that leads to inevitable moral conflict: either Juan or Helga are going to be frustrated because of your decision.  The point at which McConnell disagrees with Marcus is whether or not you must engage in yet another wrongdoing because of the moral conflict in which you find yourself.  Marcus, who would argue that the moral conflict in question is a moral dilemma, would say that another wrong is inevitable.  McConnell, on the other hand, denies that another wrong must take place.  Indeed, McConnell argues that the moral conflict in which one wrongly placed oneself is an entirely new situation which requires a new decision that is based upon which choice is morally superior.  The moral ledger has been reset, as it were.

Initially, the position may seem to be incorrect.  Indeed, the alarm bells of intuition begin to ring when one considers the inevitable frustration and disappointment that will be brought about by failing to keep your promise to one of your friends.  McConnell acknowledges this intuition, but points out the friend’s disappointment and frustration are not the result of an additional wrongdoing, which stems from the neglected horn of a moral dilemma, but that her frustrations are the result of the original wrongdoing of placing oneself in a moral conflict.  Furthermore, McConnell correctly points out that the friend’s future frustration cannot be what made the original decision of placing oneself in a moral conflict wrong, since your friend could very well die before the time of the promised rendezvous, but your earlier conflicting promises would still be wrong, since making such conflicting promises shows disrespect for the individuals to whom they are made.  Thus the wrongness of placing oneself in a moral conflict, contrary to the second premise of Marcus’ argument, is not based upon a moral conflict presupposing a moral dilemma.  Therefore Marcus’ argument is unsound.

Furthermore, McConnell points out that the duty to be careful to not place oneself in a moral conflict still holds even if the conflict in question is easily resolved.  He uses the example of breaking a trivial promise to save an accident victim’s life: while nearly everyone would agree the aforementioned action is morally correct, if the agent in question had made the trivial promise with knowledge of the future conflict she would have been wrong in doing so due to the disrespect shown to the individual to whom the false promise was made.  Since one commonly held aspect of moral dilemmas is that they are irresolvable, it is clear that the duty to be careful to avoid moral conflicts cannot be based upon the existence of moral dilemmas since it is wrong to knowingly place oneself in a moral conflict, even when the said conflict can be easily resolved.[11]

 

(P5). Making Sense of Moral Emotions

It is naturally desirable that a good moral theory be able to make sense of moral emotions, and many supporters of moral dilemmas actually consider (P5) to strengthen their case.  This “phenomenological argument” in favor of moral dilemmas argues that since one feels guilt after making a difficult choice in a situation of moral conflict, then one must indeed be guilty.  There have been various illustrations of the above argument, but the one thing that they all have in common is the insistence that perceived guilt (or remorse) indicates actual guilt.[12]

            Opponents of dilemmas agree that remorse is only appropriate when an agent has actually done wrong.  However, they are apt to point out that just because one experiences remorse does not mean that one has done something worthy of remorse.  There are many cases in which an individual may experience incredible feelings of guilt, yet, according to outside observers, has done nothing wrong.

            Consider the example of Matthew, an amateur golfer who is enjoying a game on a weekday afternoon.  After a particularly wild swing, Matthew’s shot slices in the direction of a nearby street and strikes the windshield of a school bus filled with children.  The distraction from the impact causes the driver to lose control and the bus runs off the road eventually rolling into a ditch.  Many of the children are seriously injured, and a few are killed.

            Of course, no one should legally or morally fault Matthew for the accident and the consequent deaths and injuries of the children, however few would find it unsurprising that Matthew, after discovering that it was his ball that caused the accident, should be filled with grief and experience feelings of guilt over what had taken place.  Indeed, it would seem strange if Matthew did not experience such emotional pain, since we know how we would, ourselves, would feel in such a situation.  Nevertheless, while Matthew’s grief and regret over the tragic accident may – and should – be considered appropriate, the same cannot be said for his feelings of remorse.  Indeed, one could even say that Matthew’s experience of guilt is, although understandable, irrational.

            Supporters of dilemma are not the only ones who appeal to (P5) in favor of their position.  Opponents of dilemmas have their own phenomenological arguments against the existence of moral dilemmas.  One of these arguments appeals to the practice of seeking moral advice in an apparent dilemma, another points out the phenomenon of moral doubt that often occurs after a decision has been made in an apparent dilemma.[13]

            In situations of moral conflict, and especially when the alternatives appear to be symmetric, it is a common practice for an agent to seek moral counsel concerning which decision to make.  However, if a moral conflict is genuinely dilemmatic, it would be irrational or dishonest to advise an individual to choose one alternative over the other.  Indeed, the only sound advice in such cases would be to simply instruct the individual that they will fail in their duty no matter which choice they make.  But this is not how we perceive the nature of seeking and giving advice to be.  Thus, the opponent of dilemmas argues, if an agent feels the need to seek advice for a solution to her problem, and the advisor feels the need to give advice because there is a solution to the problem, this must be because moral conflicts are not genuinely dilemmatic.

            The second phenomenological argument against dilemmas focuses on the doubt that an agent is apt to experience after making a difficult decision involving moral conflict.  According to this argument, if one is in a genuine dilemma, there is no reason for doubting one’s decision after the fact since doubt implies that the agent is concerned over whether or not she made the right choice.  In a genuine dilemma, there can be no right choice.  Thus the existence of moral doubt disproves the reality of moral dilemmas.

            Objections offered by supporters of dilemmas against the above two arguments are very similar in character to the objections given by the opponents of dilemmas.  One may say that it is irrational for an agent to seek advice or have moral doubts in certain situations; however, the burden of proof rests upon the supporters of dilemmas as to how one may determine these situations.  Furthermore, the arguments given above clearly demonstrate that the position of supporters of dilemmas is not significantly strengthened by (P5), and that opponents of dilemmas can construct similar arguments.

 

Conclusion

The debate concerning moral dilemmas will probably continue for a long time to come, and there are many other arguments and considerations to be examined about the matter.  However, it seems apparent that those who argue that an adequate moral theory must allow for moral dilemmas find themselves in a troublesome situation in regards to other conditions of adequacy for moral theories.  Until the supporters of moral dilemmas can account for these apparent weaknesses, it seems that only moral theories that exclude dilemmas should be considered adequate.    

           

 


 

[1] Plato, The Republic, Book I, trans, G. M. A. Grube, in Plato: Complete Works, John M. Cooper and D. S. Hutchinson (eds.), Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company.

[2] Styron, William, 1980, Sophie’s Choice, New York: Bantam Books

[3] See Terrance McConnell, “Metaethical Principles,  Meta-Prescriptions, and Moral Theories”. American Philosophical Quarterly. Volume 22, Number 4, 1985.

[4] Ross, W. D., Foundations of Ethics, Oxford University Press, 1939, p. 60.

[5] Marcus, Ruth. “Moral Dilemmas and Consistency”.  The Journal of Philosophy.  87.3 (1980): p. 129.

[6] Ibid., pp. 128-129.

[7] Sinnott-Armstrong, Walter, 1988, Moral Dilemmas, Oxford: Basil Blackwell.

[8] Ibid., pp. 116-121.

[9] Marcus, Ruth. “Moral Dilemmas and Consistency”.  The Journal of Philosophy.  87.3 (1980): p. 121.

[10] See Terrance McConnell, “Moral Residue and Dilemmas”, Moral Dilemmas and Moral Theory. ed. H. E. Mason.  Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996.  p. 44

[11] Marcus, incidentally, avoids this criticism by holding the position that all moral conflicts constitute moral dilemmas.  One must question, however, if the benefits that Marcus’ theory gains from exempting itself from this objection outweigh the very unpalatable position that all moral conflicts lead to inevitable wrongdoing.

 

[13] See Terrance McConnell, “Moral Dilemmas and Consistency in Ethics”. Moral Dilemmas. ed. Christopher Gowans.  Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987. pp. 163-169.

Are we always free to change?  It was argued in my Existentialism class today that no matter our past, we can always reinvent ourselves and pursue a different life.  I disagreed, however, and I have the famous Irish playwright Oscar Wilde in my corner.

Wilde was blessed with an extraordinary story telling ability.  The characters from his plays and novels leap from the page in vivid plot and description.  Oscar Wilde was known for his gits to be sure, but he was also known for his lecherous behavior which eventually led to imprisonment and disgrace before his death.

Wilde gave both personal and literary testimoy to his destructive behavior.  Shortly before his death he wrote the following words:

I let myself be lured into long spells of senseless and sensual ease…Tired of being on the heights, I deliberately went to the depths in search for new sensation.  I grew careless of the lives of others. I took pleasure where it pleased me, and passed on. I forgot that every little action of the common day makes or unmakes character, and that therefore what one has done in the secret chamber, one has some day to cry aloud from the housetop. I ceased to be lord over myself. I was no longer the captain of my soul, and did not know it. I allowed pleasure to dominate me. I ended in horrible disgrace.

Wilde witnesses the effect that behavior has on character here.  The choices that we make today will determine what options we have in the future.  If I make bad choices, I damage my soul and distort my character.  If I continue down the wrong path long enough, I rob myself of the very freedom that I had once treasured; I will indeed cease to be the captain of my soul.  Wilde wasn’t the first to discover this truth, of course; Aristotle stated much the same thing and the principle of moral sowing and reaping is clearly taught in Scripture (Galatians 6:7).  Every decision we may effectively limits our future decisions: for good or evil.

Wilde’s literary autobiography is contained in the novella, The Picture of Dorian Gray which relates the story of an innocent young man’s descent into debauchery and self-destruction.  Throughout the story, Gray learns that he is able to take part in the vilest of behavior, yet suffer no consequences to his body or appearance; the eponymous picture suffers all of the damage.  However, Dorian eventually discovers that the picture is a representation of his own twisted soul, and at the climax of the narrative when he reveals the ruined painting to the artist who created it (just before murdering him):

“It is the face of my soul.”

“Christ! what a thing I must have worshipped! It has the eyes of a devil.”

“Each of us has heaven and hell in him, Basil,” cried Dorian
with a wild gesture of despair.

Hallward turned again to the portrait and gazed at it.
“My God! If it is true,” he exclaimed, “and this is
what you have done with your life, why, you must be worse
even than those who talk against you fancy you to be!”
He held the light up again to the canvas and examined it.
The surface seemed to be quite undisturbed and as he had left it.
It was from within, apparently, that the foulness and horror
had come. Through some strange quickening of inner life
the leprosies of sin were slowly eating the thing away.
The rotting of a corpse in a watery grave was not
so fearful.

His hand shook, and the candle fell from its socket on the floor
and lay there sputtering. He placed his foot on it and put it out.
Then he flung himself into the rickety chair that was standing by
the table and buried his face in his hands.

“Good God, Dorian, what a lesson! What an awful lesson!”
There was no answer, but he could hear the young man
sobbing at the window. “Pray, Dorian, pray,” he murmured.
“What is it that one was taught to say in one’s boyhood?
‘Lead us not into temptation. Forgive us our sins.
Wash away our iniquities.’ Let us say that together.
The prayer of your pride has been answered. The prayer of your
repentance will be answered also. I worshipped you too much.
I am punished for it. You worshipped yourself too much. We are
both punished.”

Dorian Gray turned slowly around and looked at him with tear-dimmed eyes.
“It is too late, Basil,” he faltered.

“It is never too late, Dorian. Let us kneel down and try if we
cannot remember a prayer. Isn’t there a verse somewhere,
‘Though your sins be as scarlet, yet I will make them as white
as snow’?”

“Those words mean nothing to me now.”

For they have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind. (Hosea 8:7)

 

Let me start by saying I’ve been called a jackass recently, a certain synonym for the “beast of burden” (AKA: mule, jenny, moke) for saying something similar to this.  I’m not complaining.  My point of view isn’t always the most comfortable and I’ve been known to stir things up a bit before. 

What’s more, maybe the shoe fits, in some ways.  Of course, I’m speaking of myself as in comparison to the four-footed animal with large floppy ears – you might have seen it.  I agree that I may be like this dull creature in that I will carry my share of a load on my back, if I am beaten long enough.  I am as ugly as the brute, my wife will tell you that.  And as far as intelligence, there are some striking similarities between myself and the foolish burro.  Just today, I was late for an appointment, so did I respond with increased haste, you might ask?  Not hardly.  I drifted into a daydream while driving down the highway.  I missed my turn altogether and progressed from being just a few minutes late to practically absent altogether. 

Although I guess I could physically be mistaken for a donkey if I was approached from the wrong angle in dim lighting while tying my shoes, I may be primarily like the animal as it pertains to my lack of knowledge of matters of higher learning, the arts, literature, history, etc. etc.  I can perform basic mathematical functions on a calculator and I do know my ABCs.  (Although at times my children have caught me singing the alphabet song when searching for papers in my file cabinet.) 

So I’m not too smart, not the brightest crayon in the box, a couple of fries short of a happy meal, my elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top floor, whatever … but, from my asinine point of view, I don’t get all this fuss about a “problem of pain”.  I was listening to a talk radio show recently and some guy e-mailed in asking where was God when the host of the show had made some unwise choices and created alot of problems for himself.  As if God should have stepped in and saved this guys family from financial ruin, divorce, etc. if he was “truly a good God.”  I hear it all the time, “If God is a good God then why does he allow so much suffering in the world?”  Somehow this question has stumped many people and caused them to become “bitter” against God.  The question is asked, “If God could stop evil and pain, being an all-powerful being, how can he allow evil and suffering to exist?”  The only two answers these people rationalize to be possible are that either (1) God is not good or (2) God is not all powerful.  They say, “How can a good God allow people to suffer?” 

My simplistic point of view, for which I am sometimes demonized, would be …  What?  Are you joking?  You’ve got to be joking.  This is not a valid question!  This is absurd.  Its more than absurd.  Its completely blasphemous to insinuate that somehow its God’s fault for the pain in the world and that a good, all-powerful God should stop the pain.  Pain is a direct and often indirect result of people’s rebellion against God!  Did God cause the pain or did we?  Of course, God will allow suffering in this world! 

Maybe I should put it this way.   When did we start thinking that God was on our side?  We are the arch enemies of God by our very existence.  He created us good and whole but we chose a long time ago to become the people that we are today.  We are God’s enemies from birth.  He hates what we do and what we have become, as a human race.  He loves us because of what He knows we will become when we are recreated in His likeness again, that’s why he has sent his Son, Jesus, to change us, to make us new, holy creations in his image, but I don’t see how there is any reason he should take away our pain!  If anything, we should suffer a whole lot more for the evil that is in our souls and our minds.  My guess is we will too, as our society rebels against God’s clear commands more and more.  Isn’t the whole purpose of suffering to deter further evil and to judge sin.  Isn’t this what we asked for? what we deserve? 

Yes, I said it, sin.  Sin – there it is again.  Why do we feel we must use words like “mistake” or “lack of judgement” to cover what we really are?  Again, call me whatever you want, I’m sure I deserve it somehow.  But aren’t we the ones who brought the curse on ourselves?  Aren’t we the sworn enemies of God by nature through the choice of Adam our father some 10,000 years ago?  We are the ones who rebelled against him.  Not the other way around.  Why do we think that he, the Creator of the universe, should allow us to live – much less take away our suffering?

If we got what we deserve … well, there is a reason they call it hell.  Thank God there is a way to escape the judgment to come, by accepting Jesus Christ as our Lord and repenting of our sin.  This way we can become new creations and escape what we deserve.  If anything we should be thanking God for the times of reprieve from pain and suffering, not questioning how He could still be good in allowing it.

I know I’m not being very sensitive.  My comments probably haven’t made anyone “feel” good.  And I’m sure the responses I get to this post will make calling me a jackass look like a compliment.  But that’s just the way I see it, and I think I’m in pretty good company.

The Apostle Paul, 1 Corinthians 1:27-29 ESV

But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; (28) God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, (29) so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.
The Apostle Paul, Romans 1:18-32 ESV

For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth. (19) For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. (20) For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse. (21) For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened. (22) Claiming to be wise, they became fools, (23) and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and animals and creeping things. (24) Therefore God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, to the dishonoring of their bodies among themselves, (25) because they exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever! Amen. (26) For this reason God gave them up to dishonorable passions. For their women exchanged natural relations for those that are contrary to nature; (27) and the men likewise gave up natural relations with women and were consumed with passion for one another, men committing shameless acts with men and receiving in themselves the due penalty for their error. (28) And since they did not see fit to acknowledge God, God gave them up to a debased mind to do what ought not to be done. (29) They were filled with all manner of unrighteousness, evil, covetousness, malice. They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, maliciousness. They are gossips, (30) slanderers, haters of God, insolent, haughty, boastful, inventors of evil, disobedient to parents, (31) foolish, faithless, heartless, ruthless. (32) Though they know God’s decree that those who practice such things deserve to die, they not only do them but give approval to those who practice them.

Many Christians are unsure of what to think of philosophy.  Some believe that it is a volatile mixture of mysticism, humanist psychology, and pagan religion, while yet others believe it to be a discipline that is exclusively practiced by the intellectually elite.  None of these ideas are true, however, and the people who hold them would be surprised to know that they practice philosophy, in some sense, every day.     
       For example, when two men are talking about the moral implications of our nation going to war they are, in fact, philosophizing.  When woman dialogues with another concerning the issue of abortion, and seeks to demonstrate that an unborn child has the same right to life as any other individual, then philosophy is being utilized.  In fact, many of the topics that we ponder and discuss every day fall into the realm of philosophy.

 What is Philosophy?
      Giving a clear, concise definition of philosophy is difficult.  This is not because that there have been no attempts to define it, but because there have been so many different definitions.  So where do we go to find a definition?  The meaning of the word itself may give us a clue. 
      The word “philosophy” is derived from the combination of two Greek words.  The word philos means “love” and the word sophia means “wisdom”; when you combine the two, you have the phrase “the love of wisdom”, which is the meaning of the word “philosophy”.  So philosophy, at least in the ancient sense, is the love and pursuit of wisdom.
      Based upon the etymology of the word and the practice of philosophy – at least from a classical or Christian perspective – we can come to this formal definition: Philosophy is the pursuit of truth and understanding through sound reason.  This is, admittedly, a somewhat biased definition; but all definitions of philosophy are ultimately biased in some form or another.

The Value of Philosophy
      You may still be wondering what value the study of philosophy holds for the CHristian.  Allow me to point out a few benefits that the study of philosophy grants:

(1) It Cultivates Good Judgment
      Individuals who are familiar with philosophical argument are less likely to be deceived by rhetoric or propaganda.  They will look beyond ad hominem attacks and empty emotional appeals and be able to see to the crux of the argument.    This is crucial for the modern day Christian in that it allows us to reason with individuals instead of falling for every rhetorical smokescreen that is set before us.

(2) It Aids in Our Understanding of Culture and Society
      Philosophical principles help us to understand the intellectual forces that are driving our culture.  Rather than seeing the ‘fruit’ of fads and trends, we will see the ‘root’ of a worldview that is giving credence to the culture.  The study of philosophy will teach us that ideas do, indeed, have far reaching consequences.

(3) It Aids in the Systemization of Knowledge
      Another benefit of philosophy is that it allows us to organize and systematize our beliefs.  Philosophical analysis gives us the tools necessary to formulate rational arguments for what we believe.  Also, it is impossible to do a Systematic Theology without employing philosophy.
      Without any doubt, philosophy can be an extremely useful tool for the Christian, and is necessary for apologetics.  It is important to remember that all truth is God’s truth.  He is the Author of truth, and truth is an essential property of His Being.  Since philosophy is the pursuit of truth, the Christian philosopher is in the best position to philosophize, for he knows the one who claimed himself as “the way, the truth, and the life”.

The Three Levels of Philosophy

      Philosophy can be practiced and communicated on three levels:

  • (1) Theoretical Level
  • (2) Existential Level
  • (3) Prescriptive Level

 Level One- Analytic Level
      This level of philosophy deals with rigorous logical analysis, and is concerned with constructing analytic arguments that follow from strict logical inference.  The classical proofs of God’s existence are set forth in this level of philosophy, as well as such issues as the nature of truth and morality. 
      The key word to remember in in regards to this level is “logic”; that is, beliefs and opinions are examined in light of the rules of reason.  If an idea breaks down on this fundamental level and proves itself to be illogical or incoherent, then there is no more need for discussion on the matter: the idea is erroneous.
      The benefits of philosophy on this level come from the fact in that it deals with solid and objective rules of thinking.  It appeals to fact and not emotion or opinion.  Every theory, belief, or idea should be able to stand on this first level of philosophy. 
      However, there are negative aspects to this level when it is employed exclusively.  A debate on the theoretical level often becomes a contest of intellect, pitting one mind against another.  Sometimes the facts are blurred because of the ability of some brilliant intellect or charismatic communicator to manipulate the debate in his own favor.  To put it frankly, there have been intellectual giants who were and are Christians, and there have been intellectual giants who were and are non-Christians.  If an idea or belief is only treated on level one, then everything boils down to a battle of the brains and a satisfactory conclusion may never be reached.

 Level Two- Existential Level
      The second level of philosophy is not communicated by theorems and proofs, but is carried out in the avenue of the Arts.  Novels, poetry, painting, music, and many other methods of artistic expression can communicate ideas in an incredibly powerful manner.  This level is concerned with illustrating philosophical ideas in the artistic expression of the existential struggles and questions that all men must deal with.
      The Scottish politician, Andrew Fletcher, once said, “Let me write the songs of a nation; I do not care who writes its laws.”  This statement by Fletcher shows enormous insight!  The most influential philosophers of our day are not just the distinguished professors of great universities, but the individuals who maintain the print, television, and music industry.  Although these individuals may not be giving lectures on hard philosophical facts, they are carrying their philosophies through the medium of the arts.  The worldview of an individual will always be communicated in the art which they produce, whether it is fiction, drama, music, or any other creative work.  C. S. Lewis realized the implications of this fact when he said: 

We can make people (often) attend to the Christian point of view for half an hour or so; but the moment they have gone away from our lecture or laid down our article, they are plunged back into a world where the opposite is taken for granted…We must attack the enemy’s line of communication.  What we want is not more little books about Christianity, but more little books by Christians on other subjects – with their Christianity latent.[i]

      An evaluation of the existential level demonstrates that is a highly effective means of communicating ideas.  Whereas many individuals will never pick up a work by Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, or Alvin Plantinga, nearly everyone reads novels, goes to the movies, or listens to some type of music. 
      On the other hand, if one uses the existential level alone, he is bound to fall into error.  The danger of isolating the existential level from the other levels of philosophy is that it leads to subjectivism (the idea that truth is whatever you believe it to be).  The existential level must be grounded upon the analytical level to prevent this slide into subjectivism. 

Level Three- Prescriptive Level
      The third and final level of philosophy that we will deal with is the Prescriptive Level of philosophy.  This level deals with the applicative nature of a certain philosophical system.  This is the level that says, “How does this affect my life?”
      This level deals with how we should live.  It takes the information of the previous two levels and translates into reality.  It is demonstrated in the parent instructing the child on what he should or should not do, or in the minister who sets forth moral standards for his congregation.  We are constantly engaged in the prescriptive level day in conversations on the sidewalk or in our own living rooms concerning the far-reaching moral and ethical issues that we encounter each and every day.
      This level of philosophy is important because any idea is meaningless if it can’t be applied to reality.   It is on this level that the seemingly abstract arguments of the first level and the personal expression of the second level touch reality.
      Again, there are dangers in using this level alone as well.  If the child comes to her father and says, “Dad, we were taught in school today that there are no moral absolutes.  What do you think about that?”  If the father is not careful he will simply jump straight to the prescriptive level and began spouting Scriptural proof texts against the error.  The problem, however, is that the teacher does not believe the Bible and the classroom milieu does not regard it as authoritative.  In essence, the child is not asking her father what he believes about the issue, but why he believes what he does about the issue.  If you forego the first two levels, then you are only left with application, which is very subjective and weak without a foundation.
      It is important that we learn to operate on every level if we really want to communicate our worldview. Christian apologist, Ravi Zacharias, has wonderfully set forth the meaning and function of these levels of philosophy in this portion of his article, “Living an Apologetic Life”.

 Level one concerns logic, level two is based on feeling, and level three is where all is applied to reality. To put it another way, level one states why we believe what we believe, level two indicates why we live the way we live, and level three states why we legislate for others the way we do. For every life that is lived at a reasonable level, these three questions must be answered. First, can I defend what I believe in keeping with the laws of logic? That is, is it tenable? Second, if everyone gave himself or herself the prerogatives of my philosophy, could there be harmony in existence? That is, is it livable? Third, do I have a right to make moral judgments in the matters of daily living? That is, is it transferable?[ii]

 An important principle to keep in mind concerning these three levels is that we argue on level one (Analytical), we illustrate on level two (Existential), and we apply on level three (Prescriptive).  


 [i] Lewis, C. S., God in the Dock (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1970), taken from chapter 10, “Christian Apologetics”, pg. 93

[ii] Zacharias, Ravi. “Living an Apologetic Life”, (Just Thinking, Fall 2003), p. 8

 

 

 

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