| Part 2: Assessment of moral theories |
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So how do we go about evaluating moral theories? It may help to realize that theories of morality are like theories in science. Scientific theories try to explain the causes of events, such as a chemical reaction, the orbit of a planet, or the growth of a tumor. A plausible scientific theory is one that's consistent with all the relevant data. Moral theories try to explain what makes an action right or what makes a person good. A plausible moral theory must also be consistent with all the relevant data. The data that moral theories must explain are what philosophers call our "considered moral judgments" -- moral judgments that we accept after thinking critically about them. Any worthy moral theory will be consistent with those judgments. If it is not -- if, for example, it approves of obviously immoral acts -- the theory is flawed and must be discarded. If our moral theory sanctions, say, the inflicting of undeserved and unnecessary suffering on innocent children, we must conclude that something is very wrong with our theory. Plausible scientific theories must also be consistent with all relevant background information. A theory about the explosion of a star, for example, must not only be consistent with data regarding the explosion itself, but with facts we already know about gravity, space, heat, light, and scientific measuring instruments. Likewise, plausible moral theories must be consistent with the relevant background information -- that is, with our experience of the moral life. Whatever else our moral experience entails, it certainly involves 1. making moral judgments 2. occasionally getting into moral disagreements 3. sometimes acting immorally. Any theory that suggests that we do not have these fundamental experiences must be deemed suspect. Some popular moral theories do imply that we never experience such things. Their denial of elements of our common moral experience constitutes powerful evidence against such theories. It is logically possible that our common experience of the moral life is a relative, only seeming to involve moral judgments, disputes, and mistakes. It is possible that the theories that renounce our moral experience are correct and opposing theories wrong. But unless we have good reason to dismiss our experience as relative, we are justified in accepting it at face value. Another way of putting this is that our experience of the moral life is a matter of common sense. Common sense, of course, has been wrong about many things, including the shape of the Earth and the causes of disease. But it does not follow that because common sense is sometimes wrong, it is always wrong. The most reasonable approach is to accept common sense unless its alternative is clearly superior. The point of having a moral theory is that it gives guidance in choosing the right actions. And the most important guidance is the kind that helps us resolve moral dilemmas -- situations when moral principles or judgments are in conflict. Any moral theory that gives us no help with these problems is said to be unworkable, and any unworkable theory is a poor theory. So all plausible moral theories must... - Be consistent with our considered moral judgments
- Be consistent with our experience of the moral life
- Be workable
These criteria enable us to undertake a fair assessment of all types of moral theories -- religious, secular, and humanist. |
| Five Moral Theories |
| We can now apply what we've learned to evaluating five different moral theories -- two religious and three secular. |
As we noted in previous modules, act-utilitarianism says that what makes an action right is that it maximizes overall happiness, everyone considered. As long as an action maximizes happiness in the world, it is morally correct-regardless of the motives of the people involved or how the happiness is achieved. So doing the right thing means calculating how much happiness can be gained from several possible actions and choosing the one action that achieves the greatest amount of happiness. We also saw that act-utilitarianism conflicts with some of our considered moral judgments. Certain things should not be done to people even if doing them would produce the greatest amount of happiness. In other words, people have certain rights, and those rights should not be violated just to promote the common good. Is it right to falsely accuse, convict, and punish someone if doing so would result in greater happiness for a whole town of people? If the total amount of happiness of a dozen people could be increased by torturing one of them, is it right to torture him? We usually would consider it wrong to violate people's rights and commit injustices just because happiness might be enhanced. Finally we observed that act-utilitarianism is in conflict with our understanding of duties. There seems to be no getting around duties that we have to other people, duties like keeping our promises. Act-utilitarianism, however, says that our duty is to maximize happiness-regardless of whether we have to break promises to do it. Breaking promises is just another means to an end. But our commonsense understanding of promises suggests that they are more important than utilitarianism would have us believe. They have more moral weight than some other kinds of statements we could make, otherwise promises would cease to function as promises. On the other hand, act-utilitarianism does call our attention to something that apparently any good moral theory must take into account: the consequences of our actions. Surely the events that our actions cause can sometimes have moral significance. Absolutist moral theories -- those that would have us follow rules and ignore the consequences -- are in conflict with our considered moral judgments. So some thinkers have asked, Is there a form of utilitarianism that fits better with our moral life and judgments? Their answer is yes: rule-utilitarianism. This kind of utilitarianism focuses not on how much happiness a certain action can produce, but on how much happiness a certain rule can produce. According to rule-utilitarianism, right actions are those that accord with an exceptionless rule that -- if consistently followed -- would result in the greatest happiness, everyone considered. So to determine if an action is right, you must first ask what rule the action accords with, then ask if following the rule consistently would produce the greatest happiness. Under this theory, it may be right to consistently obey a rule like "don't steal" even if, in a particular case, not stealing may result in the least degree of happiness. On the face of it, rule-utilitarianism does seem like an improvement over act-utilitarianism, but it too conflicts with our considered moral judgments. It is fairly easy to imagine a rule that, if consistently followed, would maximize happiness in the world -- but would also violate people's rights, cause injustice, or ignore duties. A society could, for example, devise a rule that permitted the killing, torturing, or raping of someone if the act would dramatically maximize happiness overall. In some cases, such rules could sanction mass murder, "ethnic cleansing," and the persecution of every kind of social or racial group. If rule-utilitarianism could allow such actions, there must be something wrong with rule utilitarianism. In fact, there seems to be something wrong with the whole idea that happiness is the ultimate goal of any adequate moral system. Both major kinds of utilitarianism assume that happiness is the only intrinsic good. But we can imagine situations in which people experience the greatest degree of happiness possible and still seem to be missing some important things that make life worth living. Philosopher Robert Nozick illustrated this point once in a thought experiment. Imagine that you're hooked to a machine that supplies you with ready-made sensory experiences. You think and feel that you're writing a novel, making a friend, and doing a thousand other pleasant things. But you're actually just floating in a tank while the machine does its work. You are happy, blissful, believing that you are directing your own life and choosing freely all the time. So you stay hooked up for life. Does this scenario really sound like the good life? Tank life doesn't seem to be utopia at all -- but a kind of hell. Being happy is just not enough. |
Ten Commandments Theory/Islamic Shariah Theory Some people insist that the Ten Commandments/ Decalogue, or Islamic Shariah is the sum total of their morality, a self-contained moral code that needs no additional theoretical underpinnings. (There are many others who say that the Ten Commandments/Islamic Shariah rules are just guidelines that help us fill out a larger moral theory.) The question is, is this theory plausible? The first thing to note is that the Ten Commandments/Islamic Shariah theory (TCT) is a type of religious theory of morality called the divine command theory (DCT). This is the view that an action is right if Allah or God commands or wills it. In other words, certain actions are right or wrong only because Allah or God says they are, for he is the author of the moral law. Both religious people and secularists (such as Jean Paul Sartre) have expressed the idea in this bizarre way: If there is no Allah or God, everything is permitted ; as if there was no ethics or morality before the concoction of the idea of Allah or God! The fact is otherwise : Ethics and morality have existed since the begining of human social groupings. Religions, or Allah, God or Yahveh, had never invented or started any morality or ethics. On the other hand, Ethics and morality have existed before the religions and the religions had always included the ethics and morality of their time into their message. No religion was ever ahead of its time in matter if ethics and morality…. ! The TCT/Shariah theory is a legalistic version of the divine command theory in which Allah/God's commands are spelled out in rules stated clearly in scripture or made plain in nature. Another version of the DCT says that Allah/God's commands are expressed not in a set of unbendable rules, but in the dynamics of each moral situation. Christian ethics, though it can take many forms, is usually construed as a type of DCT in which the commandments are those of Christ's teachings, especially of the injunction to "love thy neighbor." Similarly Islamic Shariah is usually constructed from the edicts of Quran and Hadith ; added to these are 9 different factors like Imams (earlier main scholars), collective opion of the Muslim scholars, Doctrines of the different Schools of Thoughts, ; and Mullahs Farwas, etc. Now, if the divine command theory is unfounded, so is the Ten Commandments theory or Islamic Shariah theory. And the DCT is in trouble. The main problem is that these are not consistent with our experience of the moral life. We can ask this troubling question: Are actions right (or wrong) because Allah/God says they are, or does Allah/God says they are because these actions, just are right (or wrong) on their own right? If the DCT/Shariah is correct, then what Allah/God says goes. If he says that torturing innocent children is right, then it is right. If he says that raping and killing your neighbors is right, then it is right. But this notion of morality is absurd. Our experience of the moral life suggests that some actions are wrong, and it is implausible that wrong actions could become right just because Allah/God commands them to be so. Many religious thinkers have rejected the divine command theory on these grounds. A proponent of the DCT could respond to this argument by saying something like this: Allah/God could never command such evil acts because Allah/God is all-good. But to say this is to argue in a circle and undermine -- not strengthen -- the divine command theory. The theory is supposed to tell us what morality is, or what makes something good. But if goodness is a defining property of Allah/God, then Allah/God cannot be used to define goodness. Such a tack would result in an empty definition of the DCT: Good actions are those commanded by an all-good Allah/God. Contrary to appearances, this assertion actually tells us nothing about what makes something good. Some people might contend that even if the DCT is unsupported, we still should do what Allah/God commands because he will reward us for obedience and punish us for disobedience. But this view quickly crumbles into ethical egoism, insisting that we ought to do what is in our own best interest, namely, to seek reward and avoid punishment. But as we have seen, a theory of morality built on self-interest is not much of a theory. Another serious problem with the TCT is that it conflicts with our considered moral judgments. As we noted, the Commandments/Shariah-rules are absolutist -- they allow no exceptions. A rule is a rule, says the TCT, and the impact that following the rules might have on a person's well-being must not be taken into account. Say a terrorist steals a nuclear device and threatens to blow up a major city, killing millions of people. And the only way to stop this catastrophe is for you to break the commandment against killing and murder the bomber. According to the TCT, killing the terrorist -- even as a means to save the city -- would be wrong because the Ten Commandments/Islamic Shariah forbid such actions. But this view seems unsupportable. The news about the TCT gets worse. The Ten Commandments/Islamic Shariah theory -- like all moral codes -- is unworkable. Moral codes have sets of rules that are inherently vague. They therefore cannot offer much help to people who need specific answers on specific cases. The Commandments/Islamic Shariah says "honor thy father and thy mother." But does this mean that children should honor their parents even if their parents abuse them? What if the father or mother is criminally insane? Does the rule apply to stepfathers? foster mothers? the parents of test-tube babies? The intent here is just not clear. In addition, plausible moral theories are supposed to help us resolve moral dilemmas, but the TCT (like other moral codes) cannot do this. When two commandments/Shariah-rules conflict, there is no way to remove the conflict without appealing to a moral theory that is outside the scope of the Ten Commandments/Islamic Shariah. We're commanded not to kill and not to steal, but what if the only way to avoid killing someone is to steal? Or what if the only way to avoid killing a hundred people is to kill just one? We're told not to bear false witness, but what if by bearing false witness we can save the lives of a thousand innocent people? The Ten Commandments/Islamic Shariah gives rise to many conflicts like this -- but can't resolve them. These failings make the TCT a poor theory of morality. |
Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) proposes a grand nonnaturalistic theory whose influence is felt to this day. He explicitly rejects the idea that morality is based on natural properties such as human happiness, pleasure, welfare, or survival. He argues that these properties are not our highest good, for they are not intrinsically valuable (good for their own sake). The only thing that is intrinsically valuable is a "good will." A "good will" is the motivation to perform our duty for its own sake -- to act out of respect for our moral duty, not out of regard for the impact that our actions will have in the world or even out of feelings of compassion or love. For Kant, right actions are those performed from a sense of duty for duty's sake. Kant says that we come to know our duty through reason. All of our duties are derived logically from a single principle, what Kant calls the categorical imperative. (It is an imperative because it commands us to do something, and it is categorical because the command must be obeyed under all conditions.) He maintains that we know this principle a priori -- that is, without experience in the real world, just as we know many truths of logic, such as "whatever has a shape has a size." He thus builds a moral theory that is both nonnaturalistic and nonreligious. Kant produced two formulations of the categorical imperative. The first one says, "Act only on that maxim through which you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law." That is, act only on those moral principles that you could rationally want to become a moral law that applies to everyone. According to Kant, whenever you perform an action, you are implicitly acting according to a moral principle. To determine whether an action is your duty, you must ask yourself what would happen if the principle under which you are acting became a universal law, or became universalized, and everyone followed it. Would the world you envision be possible? Would it really make sense to want the principle to become universal? If the answer is yes, then you should act according to the principle. If the answer is no, then the principle is not acceptable. | | SIZING UP THE GOLDEN RULE The Golden Rule (usually stated as "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you") has a long history. Confucius may have been the first to spell it out. Some see the Golden Rule in Kant's moral theory: treat others never as a means but as an end in themselves. But many other moral theories -- especially formalist theories -- incorporate some notion of respect for persons, which is the idea at the heart of the Golden Rule. So the Golden Rule seems to be a plausible -- and respectable -- component of moral theories. But how does it measure up as a stand-alone theory? Some people assert that the Golden Rule is their moral theory with no other elements necessary. Alas, as a self-contained moral theory the Golden Rule has a big problem: it can lead to actions that conflict with our considered moral judgments. Unfortunately, it is possible to follow the Golden Rule in every case -- and still commit heinous acts. For example, a terrorist with a death wish might decide that he will exterminate the human race -- including himself. He follows the Golden Rule: he will kill all humans just as he would like humans to kill him. Or say a Roman Christian Nazi fanatic lives by this principle: I will kill all Jews, just as I would want them to kill me if I were a Jew. |
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| Suppose that you stole a car and thus the principle on which you acted is "take other people's possessions whenever you feel like it." The question then is would it make any sense for this principle to be universalized? Note that if it were a universal law, and everyone behaved accordingly, the idea of people owning things would cease to have any meaning. Nothing would really belong to anyone. So the principle itself would not have any meaning. It would not make sense. So you could not rationally want the principle to be a universal law. By applying the categorical imperative in this way, Kant derived several categorical duties -- duties that have no exceptions in any circumstances. These include the duty not to kill innocent people, not to lie, and not to break promises. Kant's second formulation of the categorical imperative is "Act in such a way that you always treat humanity...never simply as a means, but always at the same time as an end." This famous dictum seems to capture something essential in moral theories -- respect for persons. We should not treat people simply as a means to an end -- we should not use them as though they were tools. We should treat them instead as ends in themselves, as things valuable in their own right. Kant's view is that people are inherently valuable because they are self-conscious, rational, and free to make their own choices. Thus, it is wrong to steal money from someone because that would be treating them merely as a means to financial gain. It is wrong to lie to people because that would be manipulating them for someone else's own purposes. It is wrong to enslave someone because that would be using them against their will for the benefit of others. This notion of respect for persons resonates with humanists. Some might even argue that the view that humans are intrinsically valuable is the core idea in humanist thinking. But the idea is not a basic principle in Christian/Islamic morality where humans are merely creature and tools of Allah/God, for each person is thought to be of infinite value only because the divine grace . Kant, however, has probably done the most to show that respect for persons, as sovereign and independent humans, is crucial to morality and that the principle can rest on solid footing. Kant's theory has some advantages over utilitarianism. The main one is that it sets strict limits on what can be done to persons. No matter how much happiness could be gained in the world, there are certain acts that should never be committed against persons because they are persons. Because persons are intrinsically valuable, they have moral rights -- and these rights cannot be overridden by considerations of utility or the common good. But Kant's theory may also be flawed. The duties derived from the categorical imperative are themselves categorical -- they have no exceptions. As in the Ten Commandments/Islamic Shariah theory, Kant's moral duties must be honored no matter what. In Kant's view, you should not lie -- not even if the lie could save a dozen lives. You should never kill an innocent person -- even if such killing could avert the deaths of a million other innocent people. But this notion of categorical duties is problematic because there do not seem to be any such duties. We have duties, but none seem to be categorical. We can always envision possible scenarios like those above in which honoring a categorical duty would be wrong. Along the same lines, there seem to be cases in which we should treat persons merely as a means. Wouldn't we think it morally permissible to lie to someone -- use them as a means -- to prevent World War III by some monkey-mind politician like the former Cocaine addict George Bush of the USA? Kant's theory ignores the consequences of actions. In our commonsense moral experience, the effects of our acts do seem to matter to our moral judgments. Utilitarianism may put too much weight on consequences, but Kantian ethics gives them no weight at all. Finally, Kant's theory is unworkable in its classical form, yeti t is better than Ten Commandments and Islamic Shariah. Many duties can be derived from the categorical imperative, and sometimes they are in conflict. It is possible, for instance, that keeping a promise could cause the death of an innocent person. It's conceivable that to keep your promise to visit a friend in the hospital you ignore the pleas of a seriously injured person you could easily save, resulting in the injured person's death. A good moral theory would give us guidance on how to resolve these conflicts, but Kant provides no such guidance. In fact, he seems to have thought that conflicts among duties could not even occur. However, if modified in the light of these objections and in according to the realities of our new age, Kant's theory could prove to be an excellent Code of Ethics. |
Some people have adopted the Ethics of Love theory (ELT), which says that right actions are those that are based on love toward others. All other moral principles and all our duties are supposed to be derived from this one proposition. This theory can have either a religious or secular formulation. The religious version is summed up in the Bible, Matt. 22:37-40, which commands us to "love the Lord thy God with all thy heart" as well as "love thy neighbor as thyself"; similar texts are found in Quran and other religious texts. Here the imperative to love extends to God as well as to humans. This kind of ELT has been called agapism (from the Greek word for love), and it has been very influential as a façase in the Judeo-Christian tradition. The secular version omits the injunction to love Allah/God and emphasizes the obligation to love humankind, which means that the secular type of ELT can be a humanist theory of morality. One appealing form of ELT contains a strong element of situationalism, the notion that moral judgments cannot be based on rules but on the dynamics of each situation. Situation ethics is the general term for moral theories based on situationalism. The idea is that each situation is a separate and unrelated state of affairs in which we must confront the unique set of facts and ask what is the most loving action possible under the circumstances. There are no legalistic mandates -- just the ideal of love and perhaps some rules of thumb ; however, Christian imperialists and missionaries have been killing and mass-murdering as well as enslaving humans of the 3rd world colonies, on the name of Love for Christ and humans : they do favour on the Third world people by enslaving and killing them for love of Christ and for saving the victim's souls while killing their physical bodies… ! Similar Christian love was shown by the very loving Roman catholic and Roman protestant Christians under Hitler against the Jews and liberal Europeans. The most notable proponent of situational agapism is Joseph Fletcher, who asserts that love is the only universal good. His theory is immature and emotive but attractive to many because it opposes ethical legalism, the idea that morality is based on adherence to a set of laws or rules. The Ten Commandments/Islamic Shariah theory is a form of ethical legalism. Is the ethics of love a good theory? Loving others certainly seems to be consistent with our considered moral judgments. Some ethicists argue that we have a duty to act lovingly toward others -- especially toward those who have acted lovingly toward us. But how much guidance can a vague idea like love gives us when we are faced with moral dilemmas, when we find ourselves in situations that require us to make tough moral judgments? The answer is, unfortunately, not much. The injunction to love cannot tell us how to act or what rule to follow or what path to choose. The issue of euthanasia is a good example of the problem. Let's say your mother is terminally ill, suffering terribly -- and begging you to put her out of her misery. Because you love her, you want her to be free of pain, to be free of disease, to live. But what guidance can the ethics of love give you here? Should you do what your mother asks and kill her? Should you refrain from killing her? Should you grant her wish -- or ignore her wish? Or say that you're a doctor who must decide which person among one hundred desperate patients will receive a life-saving organ transplant. You care about every patient, but only one can get the transplant. The rest will probably die. To whom should you give the transplant -- the five-year-old girl because she's the youngest, the middle-aged man because he's in the greatest pain, the thirtysomething man because he's your best friend, or the medical scientist because her research could one day save many lives? Love may indeed be part of any good moral theory, but the ELT itself is unworkable. And situation ethics theories suffer from the same problem -- even those theories that replace love as the guiding ideal with something else such as humanism or virtue. |
Contemporary Intuitionism When we assess the truth of a moral theory, what kind of evidence or grounds are we appealing to when we refer to our ordinary moral experience or our considered moral judgments? We surely are not pointing to any empirical fact or to a premise in a chain of reasoning. We are appealing to what philosophers call our "moral intuitions." In philosophy, "intuition" refers not to hunches or gut feelings, but to rational knowledge or insight that is not based on mere perception or argument. We know intuitively, for example, that 2 + 3 = 5 or what the concepts "near" and "far" mean. A moral intuition is one concerning moral concepts or propositions. In the field of ethics, the appeal to moral intuitions is widespread and well respected. In this Module we have been judging moral theories by criteria which include our considered moral judgments and our moral experience. Philosophers do the same thing. They think that any adequate moral theory must take into account our moral intuitions, and that moral theories that conflict with our intuitions are suspect. They know that our moral intuitions are not infallible, but they also understand that our intuitions usually constitute strong evidence unless proven otherwise. In the past two hundred years philosophers have put forth several rationalist theories that explicitly depend on our moral intuitions. One of the more influential intuitionist theories is that of the Oxford philosopher W.D. Ross (1877-1971). Unlike Kant, Ross argues that we don't have just one duty (the categorical imperative) from which all others are derived -- we have several distinct and separate duties. We recognize these duties, he says, in the same way that we recognize mathematical or logical truths -- through our rational intuitions. Our intuitions, he says, reveal our duties to be self-evident. A self-evident proposition is one in which, if we understand it, we are justified in believing that it is true. As Ross says: « That an act qu (in the caoacity of) a fulfilling a promise, or qua effecting a just distribution of good...is prima facie right, is self-evident; not in the sense that it is evident from the beginning of our lives, or as soon as we attend to the proposition for the first time, but in the sense that when we have reached sufficient mental maturity and have given sufficient attention to the proposition it is evident without any need of proof, or evidence beyond itself. (Biblio) » As we have seen in the case of the Ten Commandments/Islamic Shariah theory, if we have several discrete duties, there are bound to be conflicts among them. Ross tries to solve this problem by establishing a kind of hierarchy of duties. He makes a distinction between two types of duties -- prima facie and actual. Prima facie (apparent) duties are those that we are obligated to perform in every situation unless there are special circumstances that provide an exception to the rule. The special circumstances are cases in which prima facie duties conflict. For example, "Do not steal" is a prima facie duty, and so is "Don't harm others." These duties would conflict, for example, if the only way you could keep from seriously harming several people would be to steal something. An actual duty is one we should perform in a particular case after we take into account any conflicting prima facie duties -- that is, after we decide which prima facie duty is most important in the situation. An actual duty is our final duty. - duties of fidelity (keeping your promises, honoring your contracts, telling the truth)
- duties of justice (dealing fairly with people)
- duties of beneficence (benefiting others)
- duties of gratitude (compensating others for acts of kindness)
Ross's theory seems to accord well with our moral intuitions about duties, including our sense that some duties must override considerations of the consequences of actions or of the common good. But as it stands, his theory is unworkable -- it provides little guidance for resolving conflicts among duties. The distinction between prima facie and actual duties is some help, but it is not enough to show us how to rank prima facie duties in importance. Many philosophers find that the most objectionable aspect of Ross's theory is not its workability but its key notion of moral intuitions. Critics have taken Ross to hold : 1) that we have a mysterious faculty of mind that delivers up the Rossian moral intuitions, and (2) that our moral intuitions yield "certain knowledge" of moral principles. In light of what is known about epistemology and the philosophy of mind, both of these assumptions seem implausible. Contemporary intuitionists, though, agree that (1) and (2) are questionable and maintain that there are far more plausible forms of moral intuitionism. They argue that our moral intuitions need not be any more mysterious or implausible than the moral intuitions that we ordinarily appeal to. A more credible view of moral intuitions is that they can be self-evident without being infallible; that they can avoid arbitrariness because they involve reflection and can be tested against the demands of a moral theory; and that they are not mysterious because they arise in the same way that other kinds of rational intuitions do -- from an understanding of the concepts and properties involved. Philosopher Robert Audi, a contemporary intuitionist, explains the more modest claims of modern intuitionism: « In these forms, I suggest, ethical intuitionism is, in outline, the view that we can have, in the light of appropriate reflection on the content of moral judgments and moral principles, intuitive (hence non-inferential) justification for holding them. Most of the plausible versions of intuitionism also endorse a plurality of moral principles (though Moore is notable for holding an overarching, ideal utilitarian principle of right action), and most versions are also rationalist, holding that there are a priori (present beforehand) moral principles. But an intuitionist could be an empiricist, taking intuition to be capable of providing an experiential ground for moral judgments or principles. Intuitionists typically hold that moral knowledge as well as moral justification can be intuitive, but the major ones are not committed to the view that this justification or knowledge is indefeasible, and then tend to deny that it is. (Biblio) » While arguing for such an understanding of moral intuitions, some philosophers have tried to improve on Ross-type theories by providing ways to resolve conflicts among duties. One suggestion is to use Kant's categorical imperative as a formula for weighing competing duties. For example, if a duty to tell the truth conflicts with a duty to not harm others (as when a madman intent on murdering your friend asks you where your friend is), the deciding factor may be whether your choice could be universalized. Another proposal is to use our moral intuitions -- specifically, our duties to promote good consequences, respect persons, and care for those who care for us -- as criteria for judging the correctness of our actions. Scientists use certain criteria to judge the adequacy of scientific theories (criteria such as how simple a theory is or how many phenomena it explains). Likewise, we could use our core set of obligations as standards for judging actions. This view rightfully assumes that these criteria cannot be ranked in order of importance. But they can render a choice between actions as objective because the criteria do not depend on anyone's mental states. Such intuitionist views (with some way of resolving conflicts among duties) have several advantages over all the other theories we have examined. They accord well with our considered moral judgments and moral experience and give appropriate emphasis to moral intuitions. They are not hampered by a utilitarian blindness to duties or the rights of persons. They avoid the problems of Kantian-type categorical duties. And they can accommodate considerations of the consequences of actions. In any case, note that intuitionist theories require no religious trappings. Our moral intuitions seem to work fine without any reference to a supreme being. And because intuitionism by definition is regulated by our considered moral judgments and moral experience, it can easily be adopted by humanists. |
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We have seen that whatever form a theory of morality takes, it cannot be thoroughly absolutist, as religious theories are. Consideration of the consequences of actions is an important part of making moral judgments. But there is also more to moral judgments than calculating consequences, for some actions should not be performed even if they result in greater happiness. So we have good reasons to believe that any adequate moral theory must be a mix of consequentialist and formalist factors. In addition, we have learned that good moral theories shouldn't conflict with our commonsense understanding of rights, justice, or duties. And they should be sophisticated enough not to assume that love and happiness alone are all that the good life requires. But what have we discovered about religious and secular moral theories? For one thing, the element of religion or theism in moral theories is simply not sufficient by itself to make the theories worth embracing. Some highly suspect theories happen to be weighted heavily with religion or the supernatural. Likewise, the secular aspect alone is not sufficient to make moral theories plausible. Some secular theories fail miserably. Finally, some theories can be secular yet strongly nonhumanist. They may jettison religion, but also engender a lack of respect for the well-being, rights, and dignity of humans which only a truely Humanist theory can ensure. |
