Saturday, June 20, 2015

Are there Moral Absolutes? Why Logic Matters... and sometimes Hurts!

I received a letter from a student requesting help on an ethical debate taking place in his college philosophy class. The debate was about whether morals are "absolute" in the sense of being universally mandatory for everyone irrespective of the circumstances. The asserted position was "no, they aren't," and the discussion went from there into a concept called the "Doctrine of Double Effect."

The ultimate question in any such issue is whether the assertion can be justified as true (or at least probable). "Justification" involves either rational/logical proof and/or demonstration. This is what is being asked for when someone responds to an assertion by saying "prove it!" 

Suppose you have a friend named Socrates and someone has claimed that Socrates is immortal. His mortality could be proven (or demonstrated or justified) empirically by poisoning him -- which is, ironically, what actually happened -- or simply waiting for him to die naturally. 

"See, I told you he was mortal. Pay up loser."

Empirical demonstration is only one of many kinds of justification or "proofs." Indeed, many things that are perfectly true can't be proven empirically (or, in some cases, at all); what you ate for lunch last week, that your mother loves you, etc. These depend on different kinds of proofs. In philosophy, a powerful kind of proof is simply called an argument.

An argument is a series of related claims intended to justify or "prove" the initial assertion. For example, rather than killing Socrates, someone might argue that he is mortal as follows:

Premise 1: All men are mortal.
Premise 2: Socrates is a man.
Conclusion: Therefore, Socrates is mortal.

This kind of argument is called a syllogism. A syllogism is a structured group of three statements. Two of the statements are called premises. These (ideally) support and prove the third statement, called the conclusion. That conclusion is usually the initial belief in dispute. (Many arguments have more premises, or are layered syllogisms, but for this post we'll keep it simple.)

If one wants to untangle and make any sense of common disputes (or otherwise drive himself and those nearby insane) it is important to learn to restructure assertions as syllogisms so that they can be analyzed. It is a little bit like transforming a story problem into a mathematical equation for solving. The difference is that we are attempting to discern the rational, logic structure underlying the thinking. This is what you would (or should) be taught in a decent critical thinking or logic class, but it is a practice that takes many years of development.

To discern whether an argument succeeds in proving the truth of an assertion, we need to examine it in three dimensions, so-to-speak:

  • Are the terms of the argument clear?
  • Are the premises true?
  • Is the logical structure -- the relationship between the premises -- valid?

If the answer to all three of these questions is yes, then the argument is called "sound" and the conclusion should be accepted as true. If the answer to any of these is no, then the argument is "unsound," and the truth of the conclusion is, at best, uncertain. (A common mistake is to assume that, there being a problem in the argument, the conclusion is false. That is an error. The argument does not determine the truth of the conclusion. It merely demonstrates or justifies it. The conclusion might be true even if the argument is a train wreck.

So we need to look at the general structure of the argument, and the meaning of the premises. In our sample argument, the terms are clear and being used in unequivocal ways. These terms are Socrates, man/men and mortal. The premises are true and share the middle term man/men. The premises and their terms are properly structured and related with the conclusion. This indicates that the conclusion is true, has been demonstrated or justified; it therefore can be said to be known (as opposed to merely believed, as in a subjective opinion). 

Here is an example in which terms are being used equivocally:

Dogs have fleas.
James is sometimes a real dog.
James has fleas (at least sometimes).

In this case, the word "dog" is being used in two different senses. In the first premise it refers to actual dogs. In the second premise it refers to James' appearance or behavior. Unclear, equivocal terms are really common in arguments. The presence of such dynamics renders an argument "unsound" and the conclusion unjustified (though not necessarily false).

When we ask whether an argument is valid, we are asking whether the relationship between the terms, premises and conclusion is rational. For example, this argument is invalid:

All students have backpacks.
James has a backpack.
Therefore, James is a student.

Even if all of the claims in the above argument were true -- even if James is, in fact, a student -- the argument is still invalid because it doesn't actually justify or prove the conclusion. Specifically, James could have a backpack and yet not be a student. Any argument that is invalid is also unsound. Calling it invalid is merely specifying the way in which it is unsound. There is much more that can and probably should be said here, but let us move on, lest this become a mini-course in logic.

Let's look at the real question now. The philosophy student provided the following syllogism from his text and class discussion:

P1. If there are any absolute moral rules, then we are never permitted to break them.
P2. Every moral rule may permissibly be broken, since doing so may be necessary to prevent a catastrophe.
C: Therefore, there are no absolute moral rules.

We are immediately faced with a bit of a problem because the first premise is phrased in an if-then format. There is nothing wrong with the if-then format in and of itself -- we frequently think in such modes, and many modern logic texts use it as opposed to more classical modes. The if-then format is generally applied to three situations; sufficient cause, necessary cause, and identity. The difference between these is critical to this discussion and the student's confusion.

Consider the statement, "If Romeo loves Juliette then Romeo will place Juliette's needs ahead of his own." This is saying that Romeo's love of Juliette is a sufficient cause of her needs being placed first. Circumstance A will bring about or is a cause for circumstance B (but B might take place without A). If incorporated into a complete (and trivial) argument structured so as to mirror the student's ethical argument, it might be written as follows:

Premise 1: If Romeo loves Juliette, then Romeo will place Juliette's needs ahead of his own.
Premise 2: Romeo does not place Juliette's needs ahead of his own.
Conclusion: Romeo does not love Juliette.

The symbolic representation is:

P → Q
~ Q
∴ ~ P

Where P and Q stand for terms in the premises. In English this is:

If P then Q
Not Q
Therefore not P

(Some people, especially those with computer programming or mathematics backgrounds, often prefer to use ! to represent "not" or negation. However, ~ is the customary symbol for "not" in symbolic logic.) Referring back to our prior comments about terms, premises and validity, such an argument is perfectly valid no matter what nonsense is inserted for P and Q, but it is only sound if there is a corresponding relationship between P and Q. For example, imagine that someone wanted to argue that dogs do not have fleas, and to do so, he provided the following argument:

If dogs have fleas then elephants are purple.
Elephants are not purple.
Therefore, dogs do not have fleas.

This argument is valid, but unsound. What this means is that there is a problem in the premises. This does not prove that the conclusion to an argument is false (though that is the case here), but only that the conclusion has not been successfully proven or justified. Whether it is actually true remains unclear, barring other justification.

Understanding the relationship between the premises and the terms within the premises is critical to discerning the validity and soundness of an argument.

In the argument in question, premise one is neither an assertion of sufficient nor necessary cause and effect. Rather, it is what is called a definition, identity or tautology: An absolute moral is a moral that, by definition, no one is permitted to violate under any circumstance. This is worth noting because it is unusual to include definitions as explicit premises and affects the overall argument. Consider this argument:

If something exists, then it is real.
God is not real.
Therefore, God does not exist.

This is a perfectly valid argument -- its structure is correct -- but whether it is sound and its conclusion is true is another matter. If someone is arguing that God does not exist, he might make an argument like this (among others). But think about this for a moment. The problem should be apparent to the Astute Reader; because the first premise is a definition and not a causal relationship, the terms are interchangeable. Saying "something exists" is the same as saying "it is real." One does not cause the other in the sense of cause and effect. This means that there is no difference between writing the second premise as "God is not real," and "God does not exist." This being the case, the argument's proponent has thereby smuggled the conclusion of the argument into the premises. However, this is obscured due to the way the argument has been structured. When pressed, this argument is really little more than:

God does not exist.
Therefore, God does not exist.

This is just an assertion, and not an argument at all. It has no demonstrative or justifying value. Many disagreements are hardly as substantive as this.

This a common reasoning error -- so common that there is a name specifically for it: Begging the Question. This means that the argument fails to justify or demonstrate the conclusion because the conclusion has actually been explicitly incorporated into the premises. The reason that this argument is "guilty" of this is because it employed a tautology for its first premise.

This is the primary problem in the argument in question, but may still seem unclear to the untrained or inexperienced reader. For clarification, let's contrast it with proper, conventional employment of the if-then structure -- a sufficient or necessary causal relationship as opposed to a tautology.

If Joe gets hit by a car traveling 30 mph, then he will sustain injuries.
Joe did not experience injuries.
Therefore, Joe did not get hit by a car traveling 30 mph.

In this argument, sustaining injuries is the result of -- not the same as -- getting hit by a car. Another way of saying this is that getting hit by a car is a sufficient cause of sustaining injuries. To say that something is a sufficient cause is to say that it can bring about the effect in question, but the effect can also come about by other means. We know that this is not a tautology because the terms "sustain injuries" and "gets hit by a car" are not interchangeable without changing the meaning of the sentence; they are two different things. Here is another example:

If Joe survived the year, then he received food and water.
Joe did not receive food and water.
Therefore, Joe did not survive.

This one is a little awkward, but the point is that the food and water are necessary causes for survival. They are necessary in the sense that, in their absence, the effect does not and cannot occur. Again, we know this is not a tautology because "surviving" and "receiving food and water," though they may be related, are not interchangeable. They are two different things. When we state premise 2, that Joe did not receive food and water, we are not saying that Joe didn't survive -- we are saying that he didn't receive the things that are necessary for survival.

When we look back at the original argument, we can see that P1 is a tautology:

P1. If there are any absolute moral rules, then we are never permitted to break them.
P2. Every moral rule may permissibly be broken, since doing so may be necessary to prevent a catastrophe.
C: Therefore, there are no absolute moral rules.

That is, being never permitted to break a rule isn't the cause or effect of an absolute rule, but its very definition. It isn't that A leads to or causes B. A is B. We could reverse the terms and have the very same meaning to the sentence and subsequent argument:

P1. If we are never permitted to break a moral rule, then it is an absolute moral rule.
P2. Every moral rule may permissibly be broken, since doing so may be necessary to prevent a catastrophe.
C: Therefore, there are no absolute moral rules.

Ironically, this form is actually a little more intuitively clear. But, either way, the fundamental problem remains that the argument, itself, is little more than an assertion that there are no absolute moral rules (because every rule may be broken in an emergency). But this proves nothing, because saying "there are no absolute moral rules," and saying "every [or any] moral rule may be broken" is to say the same thing. This means that the argument fails by way of begging the question -- having its conclusion clearly, overtly present in a premise.

Self-Contradiction


Now, this kind of analysis requires formation that very few people receive. Even if and when received, it requires substantial practice to develop. There is a simpler way to recognize whether arguments of this nature are sound, which is to ask whether they contradict themselves.

Any moral rule is a claim that we ought (or ought not) do or believe something. This argument claims that we ought to believe that there are no absolute morals. This is a moral claim... an absolute one! This is the classic "Achilles Heel" of the moral relativist position -- it is an absolute claim that there are no absolutes. It contradicts itself both here, but also in an even more subtle way. Specifically, it is a moral claim/rule which states that every moral rule is subject to exceptions. If applied to itself, this means that there simultaneously are no absolute moral rules, and yet there must be exceptions to this, which means that there are absolute moral rules. This is a violation of one of the most fundamental principles of logic (and reality), called the principle of non-contradiction. The principle of non-contradiction asserts that something cannot both be and not be in the same way and at the same time.

Indeed, with a little thought a clever person will recognize that, if there is any such thing as morality, then the principle of non-contradiction (if it is true) actually necessitates that there are moral absolutes. The alternative position, that there aren't any moral absolutes, distills down to nonsense. Of course, discerning precisely what those absolutes are is another matter.

In the end, the fundamental mistake is to accept this argument at all and then try to fabricate ways (e.g., the doctrine of double effect) to work around it. You usually end up with something even messier and more compromised than the original position.

"But I don't care"


The real problem in matters like this is that, in the end, the person making the argument very rarely cares whether his argument is actually sound. He believes the conclusion irrespective of whether it is actually justified, and he thinks that you should too (and that you are stupid if you don't). Attitudes like this generally result in "anything goes" situations -- e.g., bad arguments, appeals to emotion, name calling, even threats or assaults. On the other hand, some people might respond dismissively by saying, "well, who can really know?"

In the last few days I allowed myself to be drawn into an unpleasant debate with someone named Jason Caryl. The provocateur posted a rather grotesque video of (apparently) Muslim men stomping, kicking and ultimately stoning to death a teenage girl. The text he wrote to label the video read, "This is what Jesus says to do to little girls [....] Still love Jesus?" (I have edited his comment and his responses, below, to keep this post at a PG level.) With a little more looking I discovered that Jason is an enthusiastic atheist, with a particular animosity toward Christianity.

I left a public message for him asking if he had any evidence to support his claim (1) that Jesus instructs people to stone little girls, and (2) that it had anything to do with the video he posted. I added that I was only aware of one recorded instance in which Jesus was present at an attempted stoning (Matthew 8). In that event, Jesus stopped the stoning and saw that the woman went free. Indeed, I can think of no instance in which Jesus condoned violence of any kind (with the exception of his own clearing of the bankers from the temple).

Jason responded quickly with "You only expose your ignorance. You are fools who cannot see your own sickness. [....] You should be ashamed, but you are so indoctrinated that evil seems good to you." All of this from asking him a question. Hmm. I pointed out that name calling isn't really helpful, and it would be good to stay on task. Again, could he provide any evidence to support his assertion?

He responded with about six different Bible verses, almost all from the Old Testament, few of which had anything to do with stoning, and none had anything to do with Jesus... plus now I'm a "mind slave." I'm not quite sure what that is, but I pointed out that none of verses he supplied actually showed Jesus telling people to stone little girls.

He responded with mock wonder about how I was unable to understand the Bible. More name calling. And so on.

After a few exchanges, especially if progress has stopped, I often find it useful to make a "the story thus far" post. In this post I wrote as follows:

I just want to make sure I understand this Jason. You began by posting a horrific video, the genesis of which is unclear, but appears to be Muslims stoning a young woman to death. You then wrote that Jesus supports this act, and the stoning of little girls. When asked to provide evidence for your assertion, you responded with a variety of texts from the Bible, none of which were written by Jesus, record anything that he said or did, or were apparently supported by him.

When pressed on these, you now say that the evidence supporting your claim is a passage from Deuteronomy 22 that:

1) Also was not written by Jesus.
2) Doesn't record anything that Jesus said or did.
3) Was never cited by Jesus.
4) Doesn't mention Jesus.
5) Was probably written 700-1400 years before Jesus' birth.

Further, you ignore the fact that, when people actually did try to stone someone in Jesus' presence, he opposed the stoning and set the woman free.

Do I have this about right?


That seemed to push ol' Jason over the edge, and the names began to fly. Shortly thereafter I mentioned that I actually hold master's degrees in philosophy and theology, am rather familiar with the Bible, debate, etc. At that point Jason could no longer credibly continue his ploy that I was simply stupid, so he switched to calling me a "moral cesspool."

I mention this because we need to realize that many times the beliefs that we and others hold lack a demonstrable rational basis. Many of these may nonetheless be true, but many are not, and are rooted in life-long social conditioning, emotion, hurt, confusion, even psychological disorders. When someone asserts something that is offensive and obviously false, even if you ask them about it in the nicest possible way -- simply asking them if they have any justification for that belief -- you may need to brace yourself and have a fairly thick skin. You might hit a nerve. At the very least, be prepared to be called stupid or evil or worse, perhaps in a very public forum. This is what people do when they begin to realize that they have no justifications for the nonsense that they've been spouting or living -- they attack you instead. Remember what happened to Socrates....

Because of this (and because few of us really know how), many people don't or are afraid to try to actually reason with others. They think it is fruitless or a waste of time, or even dangerous... and sometimes it is. Calmly expressing your own beliefs in a rational way, or asking people questions about theirs can end relationships. For example, my own father-in-law of 24 years has refused to even speak to me for the last three or so. He won't say why. Perhaps it is just a coincidence, but all communication ceased after Thanksgiving a few years ago when a dinner guest asked me why I stopped voting. I explained that, after much reflection, I came to see that voting was materially an attempt to impose my will upon others under the threat of violence (via the government), and that I just couldn't continue to do so in good conscience. Conversation continued amicably from there, but Loren hasn't spoken to me since except in grunts, and a rare full sentence in which he explained to me that "we'll never be friends." It does make for interesting holidays.

Having and articulating a philosophy, even an almost completely non-violent, non-aggressive one like my own, can have quite unforeseen effects on your relationships. Asking questions can do the same.

But I digress. The reality is that even if I didn't get through to Jason right now, I sometimes engage in such discussions because (1) I don't know everything and might be wrong, and (2) if I'm right, perhaps it will plant a seed that could grow into something good later. Further, someone else might come upon the discussion and it might help them. Or maybe it won't. The truth is that I don't know. What I do know -- or at least believe -- is that nothing good will come if you and I say nothing.

In other words, you should care about questions and situations like this! Why? Because pretty much every law, every political claim, moral claim, religious claim, and even many of our interpersonal and social turmoils can be distilled down to two practical dynamics; good or bad will, and consistent or flawed thinking.

There is no point in trying to deal or negotiate with someone who is operating under a bad will, but many people don't intend bad; they are just confused. Even if we have a good will, we can be easily tricked into doing or supporting bad things by clever arguments and appeals. By learning to think more clearly, more rationally, we can detect fundamental errors like this one, improve our own lives and, in doing so, improve our families and society.

Consider this very question: Are there moral absolutes? Why does this matter? It matters because a person or society that believes there are no moral absolutes is not simply being irrational, but can justify literally any behavior, no matter how grotesque, by any number of means. That will not be the case for the person or society who believes that there are absolute moral rules, almost akin to mathematical or physical laws, which we simply must not break under any conditions.