Temptation

This morning I was shopping at the Meijer in Standale, purchasing birthday gifts for Ryan.  As I passed through the book aisle, I noticed that a volume — a book about parenting small children, as I recall — had a $100 bill sticking out of it.

Yes, a random C-note in the book stack at Meijer.

So what did I do?  I left it. 

The way I see it, that cash wasn’t mine.  Who knows who put it there, and why?  But I can see the scene in my mind — an hour after I passed through, a depressed working mom or a man who has been unemployed for months wanders through.  He or she isn’t quite sure where the next meal will come from.  If anyone has fair claim to that $100, it’s the person whose need is more genuine than mine.

Yet it prompts some thoughts, doesn’t it?  Who would see if I grabbed the money from the book?  The odds that some TV crew would jump out and say “Aha!” are pretty slim.  No, I like to think — based on nothing more than wishful thinking — that a good samartian somewhere put it there for a struggling person to find.

I’m not made of money, but I’m not starving.  I have a roof over my head, and steady income.

Yet I wonder — did the rich guy who was five minutes behind me pocket that cash without a second thought?  A spoiled teen, perhaps?  Or a drug addict, who will use it for his next fix?

I have no idea who put that money there, and why.  I have no idea whether it was a deliberate act of random kindness, or an accident (perhaps the book was a return?).  I have no idea how many others passed by and looked, but didn’t touch.  I have no idea who will end up pocketing the money.

I do know this:  Unstructured generosity is an interesting social phenomenon.  The donor contributes guided by nothing more substantial than blind faith.  The recipient may or may not be worthy of the the donor’s largesse.  What would happen, then, if the Franklin-in-a-book mode of public charity became more widespread?

It’s been said that one’s odds at beating the stock market aren’t much different whether one chooses careful financial analysis, or allowing a helper monkey to chuck darts at the daily stock reports in the newspaper.  What if philanthropy operated in similar fashion?  What would society look like if donors quit trying to leverage money for specific purposes (which may or may not be sound), and instead tossed it to the wind, to be a seed for whoever stumbled upon it?

Crazy?  Maybe.  But is it any crazier than seeing a $100 bill planted in a parenting book at Meijer?

Perizoma

Perizoma.  It is a Latin word with an origin in Greek; it means “loincloth.”  In classical times, the term was used sparingly; there are not too terribly many documented uses of it in the Patrologia Latina.  Yet the word has a fascinating history.

In Jerome’s Vulgate, perizoma is used twice: once to refer to the garment that Adam tied around his waist after he ate from the Tree of Knowledge, and once to refer to the garment worn by Christ upon the Cross.  Within the Christian tradition, and with great rhetorical beauty and sensitivity to the Christological implications of the Fall, Jerome created — by word choice alone — a strong and enduring link between the fall of Man and Man’s salvation.

Because of Jerome, perizoma acquired an almost exclusively theological connotation; in fact, there are perhaps only two attested uses of the word in a non-religious setting after the Vulgate was widely circulated. 

I thought about perizoma yesterday as I reflected on a conversation with Becca.  I had met her at a restaurant a week ago to review the presentation on Beaumarchais that she was to deliver at a conference last Saturday.  At one point, we had a sideline conversation about the degree to which the language and plot structures he used in The Marriage of Figaro reflected feminist themes.

What struck me about the whole idea of identifying proto-feminist thought in an 18th-century play wasn’t anything defective in Becca’s thesis, per se, but in the entirely natural assumption we all share, in using contemporary concepts applied without revision to past events.  Historiographers call this the historical fallacy, and with good reason:  Ideas evolve over time, and judging the past from the perspective of the present is unfair to the past and prejudicial in the present’s favor.

The historical fallacy is significant because, in linguistic terms, perizoma switched connotation so rapidly.  A word that meant one thing, a mere half-century later, really came to mean something else entirely.  Yet the radical language shift that occurred after Jerome may well be happening more frequently, before our very eyes.

One of my favorite anecdotes, pace George Will, is of a harried British commander working the evacuation at Dunkirk.  Pressed for time, he signaled just three simple words to the Admiralty:  “If be not.”  He knew that the message — which was a psalm reference — would be immediately and clearly understood, and would communicate more than a detailed situation report ever could.

Today, our pool of shared meaning seems to have something of an algae problem.  References to scriptural passages, to Shakespeare, even to art film or the classics, are likely to be understood by a rare minority.  Pop culture isn’t universally followed, either, so it’s entirely possible that two American citizens could have radically different understandings of the world, with almost no appreciable overlap in content.

Even our words have changed, and rapidly.  Neologisms aside, old standbys switch with breathtaking speed.  Niggardly is out; the first two syllables condemn that word to the ash-heap of usage.  Liberal is a swear word for many who once bore it proudly.  Queer went from being a term of disparagement to a technical term within the academy, to being embraced by the very people against whom it was considered an epithet.

Read any random newspaper issue from 1955.  Words like conservative are used as slurs, and negro is considered utterly neutral.  Today, neither understanding holds.

Words didn’t used to change connotation or even denotation, this quickly.  Perizoma is worthy of study precisely because it is something of an odd duck.  That the phenomenon of radical connotative shift is truckin’ along today is not insignificant, nor are the related and proliferating opportunities for historical fallacies.

Aesthetics

What is beauty?

This perennially vexing question, posed to neophyte college students and seasoned academics alike, has never been been answered to universal satisfaction.  Beauty is one of those concepts, like Truth or Goodness, that can be explained at length but never authoritatively defined.

Yet the question of what constitutes beauty is the animating query of formal aesthetics.  And aesthetics is the twin sister to ethics.

Within the domain of philosophy, under most generally accepted taxonomies, one of the top-order divisions is value theory, and value theory has two primary branches — aesthetics, and ethics.  Aesthetics concerns itself with what is beautiful, and ethics concerns itself with what is right.

These questions are two sides to the same coin, insofar as each doesn’t admit to one correct answer, but rather point to a process by which individual instantiations of beauty or rightness are assessed.

In fact, there was a healthy business by the British Moralists of the 18th century, most notably Adam Smith, to tie aesthetic sensibility to moral analysis.  Some of them argued that we are motivated by “moral sentiments” that are operatively no different from aesthetic judgments.  And there’s something compelling to this:  Much of what we think of as morally right is a pre-rational judgment that, to put it crudely, is identical in form to our judgment of a particular particular painting or symphony as being beautiful.  We might be able to retrospectively provide a logical and thoughtful analysis of why we concluded as we did, but the rationalization follows rather than precedes the act of judgment.

Some contemporary commentators suggest that there has been a loosening of moral consensus about a whole host of issues.  They argue that there was a time, not long ago, when a sizeable majority of Americans had the same basic perspective about what constituted appropriately moral behavior.  Although this assertion is certainly open to debate, there is enough evidence of this that I’ll let the debate slide and simply accept the premise as true:  Average citizens don’t seem to share a larger and self-consistent public moral framework as once they did.

Why is this the case?  Perhaps it’s related to a simultaneous loss of shared agreement about what constitutes beauty.

Once upon a time, not only did most people have similar ideas about what divided right from wrong, but people had pretty similar ideas about what was noble and beautiful, and what was crass and base.  This changed, starting in the 1920s but taking off in the 1950s. 

Now, we have greater avenues for individuation.  We can pursue our own ideas of truth, and beauty, and live a life bordering on solipsism.  Libertarians and diversity advocates should rejoice.

But we’ve lost something significant — a shared pool of meaning by which we might, as a collective, ascribe propriety and beauty to objects and acts within the public square.

Is this a good thing?  An evolution of human society?  Or something that should cause worry?  I wish I had an answer.

Impulses v. Morals

I think one of the greatest perspectives I gained from my undergrad philosophy days came from Dr. Sylvia Culp.  Sylvia was my first grad adviser; it was hard to lose her in 2004 — far too young — to pervasive cancers.  But I had her for one of the upper-division undergrad courses on the history of contemporary philosophy, and one of the assigned texts that semester was Jared Diamond’s Why Sex Is Fun.

It’s a short little book.  It’s not pretentious, despite the academic heft of its author.  In just a dozen or so brief chapters, Diamond explains human sexual and mating behaviors from the perspective of evolutionary biology, and Sylvia augmented the text with her own insights as a mother and feminist philosopher of science.*  This viewpoint has served me well as I’ve grappled with some of the behaviors I’ve encountered over the years.  In fact, this very week I explicitly invoked Diamond when counseling both Becca and Jen on relationship issues.

What intrigues me about the “evolutionary biology” approach is that it puts an interesting twist on questions of moral rectitude. 

Let’s begin with a distinction.  A judgement is a moral act; when I judge, I am weighing a pattern of behavior in a defined context to determine whether a particular action is worthy of praise or blame.  Since ethics is the study of value-laden decision-making, a necessary component to ethical analysis is reference to a person’s disposition — his intention.  The degree of culpability I have for taking a person’s watch, for example, depends very much on whether I intended to steal it, whether I was merely absent-minded in picking it up, or whether it fell into my pocket by mistake.  Without deliberate intent, the case for genuine culpability weakens.

An assessment, by contrast, is merely a description and summary of one or more actions in context.

So, let’s consider a hypothetical.  Let’s say a person named Bob is dating a person named Jane.  After two years together, Bob and Jane have grown quite close and have fallen in love.  As the two discuss marriage, or cohabitation, “something” happens that gives Bob cold feet.  He turns to Katy, a co-worker, and forms a quasi-relationship with her — not enough to outright derail his commitment to Jane, but enough to introduce a non-negligible degree of instability.

If we judge Bob, we may well conclude that he’s an idiot who betrayed Jane’s trust.  No matter how you slice it, this doesn’t bode well for Bob.  Consider the judgment of the leading moral theories:

  • Deontology (duty-based ethics):  “Bob had a positive obligation to honor his emotional commitment to Jane.  He violated that commitment by engaging with Katy, and his actions leading to the end of the relationship are therefore morally blameworthy.”
  • Consequentialism/Utilitarianism:  “Bob’s actions led to the unhappiness of Bob, Jane, and Katy, whereas remaining with Jane would have maximized the happiness of Bob and Jane and left Katy neutral.  As such, destabilizing the relationship was not the most appropriate course of action.”
  • Care Ethics/Respect for Persons:  “By bringing Katy into the mix, Bob demonstrated that he lacked a basic respect for the feelings and the autonomy of Jane, and he showed that he viewed Katy as a mere instrument for acting out his commitment issues. Therefore, Bob has demonstrated a blameworthy lack of consideration for the personhood of those he wounded in this situation.”
  • Divine Command:  “God wills that men and women should join together, get married, and raise children.  By setting aside the vocation of marriage with Jane, Bob lusted after another woman in his heart and therefore has broken God’s law.”

Clearly, Bob’s in the doghouse.  But let’s set aside our judge’s gavel and perform an assessment.  What might we find:

  • Bob was committed to Jane.
  • At some point, Jane communicated her desire for a permanent and exclusive relationship.
  • Bob, being a human male, is hardwired by evolution to prefer to spread his seed among as many females as possible, whereas Jane prefers a stable mate to raise her offspring.  This necessarily creates a psychic tension between the two.
  • Bob, like most people, does not reflect on what his instinctive impulses are; he merely acts in a manner that seems reasonable, even if it’s superficially reflective in-the-moment.

With these points in place, what might we argue? 

I think Bob’s moral guilt in allowing his cold feet to upset his relationship with Jane may not be as iron-clad as some might hold.  Although it’s undeniably true that a thinking human person has the ability to review his behaviors and dispositions, the power of instinct is difficult to master.  Our motivations — even to the most introspective among us — aren’t always crystal-clear. 

Because intent is necessarily to assign blame, we need to think very carefully about just what Bob consciously intended.  Did he want to hurt Jane, or Katy?  Probably not.  He should have foreseen that his actions would cause emotional distress, to be sure, but whether he actively intended for that distress to occur is unlikely.

I can understand and explain Bob’s behavior by resorting to psychology and evolutionary biology.  Explaining it doesn’t excuse it, of course, but it does allow reflection on the situation that’s not clouded by sweeping moral claims.

For me, the biggest teaching moment here, irrespective of the hypothetical, is that since assigning moral fault depends so much on conscious intent, people ought to be more willing to assess, rather than to judge, the behaviors of others.  When we judge, we tend to paint a broad-cloth picture of a person as either wholly good, or wholly bad, and the nuance of perspective and context become obscured.  Disagreement is acceptable, but condemnation or vilification is not always appropriate.

Human motivation is a complex subject.  When our first impulse is to judge without benefit of understanding, we neither improve the moral climate, nor do we advance our knowledge about human nature.

Judgment and assessment both have their place as important tools in diagnosing human behaviors.  Let’s be sure, though, that we use the right tool for the job.

 

* I cannot let slide, as an addendum, an anecdote about one of Sylvia’s lectures on Diamond.  There was a chapter in the book that discussed penis size — that human penises are much larger than they need to be in a functional sense, because the size serves as an outward indicator of virility.  To which Sylvia remarked that she once had sex with a horse-hung black man, “and it hurt.”  I’m not sure which was better: the free way she talked about her sexual history, or the way most of my classmates didn’t know whether to gasp, giggle, or nod in knowing fashion.  What made these lectures especially fascinating is that she was a second-career philosopher; her first career, and first Ph.D, was in biochemistry, and she did advanced research in New York before burning out and turning to the more sedate world of academic philosophy.

Gillikinisms

It’s been said that brevity is the soul of wit.  Perhaps that’s true, but perhaps it’s just a nod to short attention spans.  Regardless, there’s something to be said about the value of a well-placed aphorism.  Here are some of my own, in no particular order.

  1. The rhetorical volume of one’s opinion is inversely proportional to the wisdom contained therein.
  2. If given the opportunity, people will disappoint you.  Forgive them anyway.
  3. Because most are incapable of seeing the world that lies hidden beyond their ideological blinders and tribal identities, genuine and respectful discourse on politics, religion and ethics requires careful stewardship of the conversation.
  4. Most people cling to the unhappiness and misfortune they know, instead of risking the unknown in pursuit of something better.
  5. Few disagreements are so profound, nor many crises so pressing, that a well-formed initial response cannot wait until the next day.  Sleep often brings a perspective that lies beyond the grasp of logic.
  6. Introspection without action is worse than useless — it’s inherently self-destructive.
  7. You cannot engage another as an equal if you cannot first love yourself without qualification.
  8. Honor your commitments and always speak the truth, for trust betrayed has a cascading effect far worse than the momentary pain of keeping your integrity at a difficult time.
  9. Set clear expectations in your dealings with others, but take care that the expectations of others do not curtail your own happiness.
  10. Nurture the courage to be yourself even when those closest to you wish for you to be someone else.
  11. Aversion to reasonable risk fertilizes the full flowering of mediocrity.
  12. It is better to leave your heart vulnerable, and thereby to suffer more quickly and more deeply the pain inflicted by others, than to be so calloused inside that your soul is numb to all but extremes.
  13. Save your anger for those offenses that are motivated out of genuine and premeditated maliciousness and let pass those offenses arising merely from carelessness.
  14. Regret leeches the vividness of memory’s color.
  15. It is human nature to reject the good for want of the perfect: Nowhere does this tendency hold true more strongly than among 30-something single women seeking husbands.
  16. Understand how your opponent will respond along each of the four responses to conflict — flight, fight, compromise, and freeze — before you enter the arena.
  17. If your understanding of the facts fits too well with your deeply held preferences, then one or the other is deficient.
  18. Civility is the only investment that charges no up-front cost yet pays handsome dividends.
  19. Wisdom isn’t about finding the right answers — it’s about asking the right questions and knowing when to keep silent.
  20. Profess your love to someone today rather than to that person’s headstone tomorrow.
  21. Never be so convinced of your own correctness that you refuse to give full and fair treatment to the arguments and counsels of others.
  22. When you’re caught with your hand in the cookie jar, don’t lash out at the person who snuck up on you to catch you in the act.
  23. Always be willing to divest yourself of negative influences, especially friendships and routines that become inimical to your happiness and growth.
  24. Master the sword: When to wield it, when to sheathe it and when to fall upon it.
  25. People are naturally attracted to those who project confidence and demonstrate high social value, even when such demonstration is more fantasy than fact.  The illusion of confidence compensates for many social blemishes.
  26. Everyone goes through times in their lives when everything changes.  Sometimes, loved ones won’t really understand it.  Don’t let their resistance limit your growth.
  27. Just as your body needs exercise to stay strong, your mind needs new ideas to keep sharp and your heart needs genuine affection to remain warm.
  28. Mere retaliation is for the unrefined; to savor the cold deliciousness of well-executed retribution, you must become conspicuously better than your target in ways that inflame his shame and envy and regret.
  29. Never underestimate the power of the human heart to react to perceived slights with abject and lingering pettiness.
  30. Accept or reject others for who they are and not for whom you wish, or fear, them to be.
  31. Every event is open to myriad interpretations and re-tellings.  Take care that the story you tell isn’t merely your own, and be open to the possibility that the wickedness you see in others is, from their view, utterly benign.
  32. Prosperity obscures a multitude of sins; conspicuous prosperity magnifies them.
  33. No one is entitled to an opinion.  Opinions, being merely the conclusion to an elliptical argument, can be true or false, and are subject to the same laws of factual accuracy and logical consistency as any other formal argument.
  34. Learn how to spot the cheap tin beneath the gilding.
  35. Cultivate the strength of will to resist the beguilements of the socially aggressive, no matter how instinctive the urge to please them may be.
  36. Even mediocrity, creatively leveraged, can become an asset.
  37. There is great power in well-done ritual.
  38. When your knowledge of complex subjects is limited to bumper-sticker sloganeering — shut up.
  39. Experience puts meat on the bones of theory.
  40. Fools put their trust in the blind luck that says, “Your day will come,” but you’ll never be dealt a royal flush unless you actually belly-up to the table in the first place.
  41. Nice people finish mid-pack.
  42. There is no greater crime against the human spirit than to crush a child’s dreams.
  43. Avoid judging when simple evaluation will suffice.
  44. Ethics without aesthetics is like physics without mathematics.
  45. Most people prefer to excuse or ignore genuine moral evil than to confront it.
  46. Even the most trivial of events can set in motion a chain of causation that can touch the lives of many in deep and lasting ways. Therefore, be intentional even about the small things.
  47. Every relationship requires a shared understanding about its basis.  Take care that in all your relationships, this understanding is reflects truth rather than lip service to truth.
  48. The line between righteous indignation and self-inflicted bitterness is so thin that most of us can only see it in the rear-view mirror.
  49. Life may well be pregnant with possibility but at some point, a man needs to give birth to a well-defined identity.
  50. Suspension of disbelief works well for watching films, but if your life is overrun with dei ex machina, it might be time to check the script for continuity errors.
  51. Dreams, once dreamt, become the soul’s chief prosecutor.
  52. It’s typically not the object of our thoughts or perceptions, but the process by which they form, that is significant.
  53. Circumstance is rarely a valid excuse for inaction.
  54. The value of a fine Scotch or quality cigar lies less in its commodity than in its culture. Sinking into a nice leather chair for 90 minutes with a dear friend, savoring a smoke and a drink and elevated conversation, may be the closest most men will get to a useful therapy session.
  55. People are generally less put-together than you’d think.
  56. The louder a young gay male protests that he’s really only interested in a relationship, the more likely it is that he’s stringing along five separate guys simultaneously, looking for which one has the highest hotness-to-sluttiness ratio.
  57. Materialism lures us to invest our treasure in labels and fads that quickly fade, instead of cultivating intangible experiences that last a lifetime.
  58. Beware the person who keeps his options open; you cannot depend on him.
  59. The view from the sidewalk is more intimate than the view from the driver’s-side window. Slow down and seek alternative ways of experiencing your everyday surroundings.
  60. Wear funny non-hipster hats in public — it’s the ultimate assertion of self-worth against a conformist culture.
  61. Take the time to watch a spider spin its web. You won’t look at nature the same way again.
  62. Never burn bridges, for you cannot know what opportunities may pass you by because you pissed off the wrong future rainmaker.
  63. Your family consists of all those who will come to your aid without complaint after a 3 a.m. phone call. All others, blood relation or not, are merely acquaintances.
  64. Everyone requires Sabbath, whether it’s in a house of worship or a period of quiet rest and reflection.
  65. No terminally ill person I’ve ever ministered to in the hospital ever said that he wished he had a better credit score.
  66. Sometimes when your motivation weakens and you find excuses to avoid doing what you should, your subconscious is telling you something serious about an internal conflict that you must resolve if you’re to resume your progress.
  67. Keeping your own counsel saves you from the inconvenience of announcing a different course to those who have already received an ample and probably unwelcome piece of your mind.
  68. Avoid the beguilement of progressives and other fools who preach a gospel of radical relativism, for a person who accepts everything understands nothing.
  69. Writers have the same inner masochism as marathon runners, but we look less attractive in spandex.
  70. Only the person who has transformed the worst of fate into the best of fortune understands the value of struggle as a scribe of character.
  71. “Indifferent neutrality” is a synonym for “evil.”
  72. True friendship is nurtured through the magnanimity to respect differences and the fortitude to be the first to act to keep the relationship from failing. The small heart lets friendship wither, leading only to solitude.
  73. The coin of arrogance is stamped, on its reverse, with cowardice.
  74. Acedia is a choice, not an affliction.
  75. Few are as loathsome as those who’ve hitched hypocrisy to their sanctimony.
  76. Comfort is the sweetest toxin.
  77. Charm offers a grace that mere competence can never approximate.

Cornucopia of Opinions

A few mini-thoughts, conveniently assembled into a single post for your reading pleasure:

  1. I’m about one-third complete with A Patriot’s History of the United States.  It’s not bad insofar as it hits the major themes of American history, but the book is vexing in that it seems written not as a one-volume primer on U.S. history, but as a point-by-point rebuttal of left-wing opinions about U.S. history.  It’s unquestionably an ideological view of America — complete with unsupported assertions about what, e.g., the Founders thought about slavery and natural law — and it reflexively argues for a free-market interpretation of such events as Andrew Jackson’s crushing of the Second Bank of the United States, which in the context of the book was not a happy event.  I’ll finish the volume, but from a purely historiographical perspective, I’m not impressed despite being sympathetic.
  2. One of the most sublime treatises on morality, I think, is the first half of St. Paul’s letter to the Romans.  The core argument — that there is no sin apart from the law — presents a useful check to those who wish to find a home in the law, or at least in moral code that’s heavily legalistic in its approach.  The specific example I keep thinking about, in the context of this point, is sexual morality.  A friend of mine from elementary school once remarked that although she wants a baby, she won’t have sex until she’s married.  Her abstinence is cultural, rooted in religion; there is a perspective that religion forbids pre-marital sex, so she will remain a virgin until her wedding night.  Fair enough.  But the whole point about abstinence isn’t “don’t have sex until you’re married” — the point is that people are intrinsically valuable as moral agents in themselves, and ought not to be treated instrumentally.  So, the letter of the law says, abstain from premarital sex.  But the spirit of the law says, do not treat others as merely an object of desire-gratification; treat them as human persons worthy of dignity.  Hence, many forms of premarital sex are surely sinful, in that they’re merely hookups designed for the easy fix.  But is a non-marital but loving relationship that includes sexual activity genuinely sinful?  What is it about the simple act of marriage — which, from the persepective of Catholic sacramental theology, is merely a function of desire for that long-term, loving commitment — that takes an activity and gives it a positive or negative moral status?  Doesn’t intentionality trump the circumstantial accidents of an act? 
  3. Yet another rhetorical question:  What, exactly, qualifies Barack Obama to be the next chief executive of the most powerful state in human history?  I’m genuinely curious.
  4. There’s a lot of hot air being bandied around about universal health care.  One aspect of health care that receives too little attention — because, no doubt, of its status as “slayer of political ambition” — is reform of our odd system of employer-supplied insurance coverage.  Jobs that provided health benefits are relatively new; the phenomenon started during World War II, when non-monetary benefits were extended to employees as an incentive that skirted the federal government’s wage controls during the war.  Like all largesse flowing to the masses, it’s a one-way ratchet, so that today, we have an utterly bizarre system that treats all healthcare, even routine well care, as an insurable event (isn’t the point of insurance to mitigate against catastrophic risk?), and this insurance is supposed to be supplied not by the policy holder, but by the the policy holder’s employer.  In a moral sense, can someone explain why my boss has to pay to ensure that I have my annual physical?  Yes, it’s possible to rationalize the benefits of the current system retrospectively, but it’s a Sisyphean task to explain why the system itself is the most appropriate choice in a moral, political, or economic sense.  If Americans want “affordable health care,” then Job #1 is cost containment.  This is done chiefly by making the consumers responsible for their level of utilization (i.e., allowing the market to determine pricing), and THAT is done by ensuring that patients have a direct financial stake in their overall plan of care.  Giving Uncle Sam a monopoly on the provision of benefits or services isn’t the right solution, in any sense.

All for now.

Ethicus ergo sum

As the secretary of my hospital’s biomedical ethics committee, I’ve had the privilege of working with many members of our health care team to ensure a high degree of moral propriety regarding the care of our patients.  It’s been a privilege, and a great learning experience, to serve the community in this fashion.

One observation about my experiences is worth sharing publicly.

Many people with little or no formal ethical training seem to believe that because they have a personal sense of right from wrong, that they are therefore fully qualified to render complex opinions in authoritative manner on any question related to moral philosophy.

Some issues that arise in the practice of applied moral philosophy in the hospital space can be difficult to parse.  Matters of autonomy, justice, beneficence — these aren’t simple subjects to think through, especially for those who have no background in thinking them through.

The degree of deference people will provide to a physician or a nurse is very real and very appropriate.  The degree of deference people provide to those with a background in moral philosophy is practically nil.  Is this a good thing?  A bad thing?  I’m not sure, but it seems to be a very real phenomenon.

Grand Canyon of Philosophy

Grand Rapids is a fairly conservative place, filled with common-sense Midwest types who don’t take a cotton to extremism of any stripe.  My hometown is, significantly, the home of President Gerald Ford, Sen. Arthur Vandenberg, and Rep. Vern Ehlers — gentle pragmatists, all.

So it’s with equal measures of curiosity and distaste that I witness the anti-war protests occuring routinely in the downtown area. 

West Michigan is not anti-war.  We’re not pro-war, per se, but we support our troops, and even if some (or many) don’t much care for the present enterprise in Iraq, we don’t protest about it.  Of course, every metropolitan area has its wackos and firebrands, yet it’s curious that anti-war protests continue unchallenged by anti-anti-war counter-protests in this fair city.

I think that the response to the conflict in Iraq and the current hysteria over climate change — just two of several warning signs — reflects a major break in American society.  I refer not to the usual suspects of ideology or economics, or of red-versus-blue, but of philosophy.

It is said that those who abandon belief in God lack the philosophical grounding to land anywhere but in a sort of fatalistic relativism, where no truth can be held to be absolute, since any truth-claim lacks an absolute frame of objective reference.

Perhaps that’s true; perhaps it’s not.  But as a working hypothesis, let’s run with it for a moment.

What is the biggest fault line in American civil society?  Not race.  Not language.  Rather, religion.  Those who profess a faith in God (typically the God of Abraham) see the world in much different ways from those who do not.

Pollsters and political scientists chalk up religion as a confounding variable.  Fair enough.  But is there something deeper to it than that?

If one accepts the existence of God, then certain modes of thinking about the world become possible, among them a cosmology that is not human-centric and an ethics that permits absolute value claims.  It is not idle coffeehouse chatter to note that the conclusions of high philosophy, especially in the tradition of the Roman Catholic Church, lead to understandings of man’s place in the world and our duties to each other that conflict with secular philosophy.

Let’s consider two examples.

First, cosmology.  If God exists, and if God created people in His image and likeness, then people — as part of creation — have a duty to respond to the creator.  If God does not exist, then man has no duty to creation, since creation is an accident of chemistry, biology, and quantum mechanics that cannot be considered as the product of a rational and conscious supernatural actor.  It follows, then, that theists see themselves as part of a divinely ordered creation, whose status as “created” implies a subordination to some degree to the will of the creator.  And, that atheists are not compelled by logical necessity to recognize any higher authority than themselves (or, more generally, whatever authority they choose to accept).

Second, ethics.  The theistic duty described above takes its shape in the ethical norms revealed to creation by God, in the form of natural law and the covenants.  If you believe in God, then you believe that God establishes ethical norms that transcend human custom and are not optional.  Atheists, however, are not required to accept natural-law or divine-command moral theories; the can pick from egoism, feminism, deontology, virtue ethics, consequentialism, or anything that tickles their fancy — for the arbiter of what is morally correct lies within the self.

What are the implications?

It seems the major point of contention between theists and atheists is in the degree to which human autonomy should be surrendered to some entity (God, the community, whatever) outside the self.  In general, atheism is self-focused; atheists tend toward egoism and value themselves above all else.  This is not meant in a negative way; there is much merit to considering the self.  But it means that the two strands of thought, quite apart from their theological differences, provide a welcome home to very divergent political ideologies.

We can no longer have a meaningful public discourse about “life” questions — abortion, euthanasia, assisted suicide, embryonic stem cell research.  Political battle lines have hardened, shaped by religious attitudes that are all-encompassing.

The question, though, is the degree to which religious or philosophical disagreement will continue to make civil discourse more difficult.  Today, abortion.  What tomorrow?  Just-war theory and evolution have already calcified.  What’s next?  Social justice, perhaps?

Yet for all the underlying power of religion and philosophy to shape our public conversations, so few remain aware of the basic principles of logic, epistemology, cosmology, ethics, theology, and metaphysics.  We are arguing from the watchtowers, but we have forgotten where the footpaths lay.

This is not a good thing, and it doesn’t bode well for a general reconciliation in Western civil society.