A Short Essay on Value

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A discussion I’ve had with a few of my friends who are atheists over the last few years has led me to write this very brief consideration of the concept of value. It is an attempt to demonstrate the difficulties of a purely materialistic understanding of morality and value.

Morality is itself based around the concept of value. Certain things warrant certain treatment, and to act as if they possess less than their value is to do moral evil. This comes most obviously in the form of treating human beings as if they were merely objects. When a person is objectified, they are stripped of their dignity of personhood and regarded with a dignity far below that warranted by their value.

Differing systems of morality assign value differently. A racist morality would place the value of one race above another. A utilitarian morality places value in the greatest happiness of the largest number of people. In the first case, treating a “lesser” race as if it were higher is an offense to the moral system, and indeed treating the “higher” race as if it were lower is also offensive. Thus in the early half of the twentieth century in America, for a white man to drink from a black fountain was degrading, and for a black man to drink from a white fountain was more than presumptuous. So too, in a utilitarian system, if a lesser happiness for a smaller group is put before the greater happiness of a larger group, a moral offense has been committed.

This raises the question of where value ultimately comes from. In a theistic system, a person can turn to the creator of all things and hold that, as creator, God has assigned things different values, and thus given each thing a dignity that is appropriate to it. A rock has a very minimal dignity, an ape a very great one, and finally humanity the greatest. The reason for this hierarchy is either explained as simple divine fiat, or, an understanding I find far better, it is explained as having its root in the concept of likeness to God. A rock is somewhat like God in that it exists. An ape more like God in that it thinks, is social, lives, even loves. A human is most like God in that a human, by nature, creates, imagines, shapes, laughs, loves, has abstract thought, worships, and far more than these.

In such a system the theist comes up against the hard brutal fact that things have value whether or not she likes it. A person’s body has value whether or not I want to treat it only as a means to my own pleasure or for my own gain. A person’s will is valuable whether or not I want to override it. Indeed, even an animal or a tree has more value than is convenient for me. All of this is the case because behind the animal, or the person, or the tree is the final ultimate source of all value, the one who makes the tree and the person and says “This is its value.” Because God is outside of the system of things made, and behind them all, it becomes impossible to argue with God, since our arguments are also things that God has made[1].

Now, for an atheist, the situation becomes more dire.[2] For value, not coming from outside of the system of creation, it must be assigned from within the natural order. One of the things in the universe begins to assign value to other things in the universe. A human being says of other human beings “you are valuable to me.” She says of her pet “you are valuable to me.” She says of a piece of art “this is valuable to me.” He says of a bit of shiny metal “this is valuable to me.”

The origin of the value assignment is the person who, and this is the tricky part, has no intrinsic value or authority on her own, but only the value which is given to her by other persons. Thus, an atheist can be easily outraged by the enslavement of another person, because that atheist places value in that other person. But the person who is doing the enslaving may not place value in the enslaved person except as a slave. So who will arbitrate between them as to who is “right?” In an atheistic system, where value only derives from the individual, there can be no such arbiter, for the value of the person resides wholly in the mind of each individual.

Now, there may seem to be three recourses the atheist can take to shore up the strength of her values. The first is society, the second is the natural world, and the third is the fact that she can assign value at all. I want to consider each of these briefly.

The societal argument says that value can be derived not merely from the individual, but from society at large. I might not think that a bit of colored paper has any value, but society does, and so money is valuable. I might not think that a man’s will is particularly valuable, but society values it, so I should not override it.

Now the problem with this argument is that it confuses value and power. A society has power to enforce its views of value. Thus if society tells me that a painting is valuable, and I use it for kindling, society can punish me for treating the painting as if it did not have any value. But this does not actually give the painting value, it only allows some people to enforce their value judgments over other people who disagree. One can no more assign objective value in this way than one can make two and two equal five by popular vote. This is easily seen when the society breaks apart, or changes its mind about the value of things, there is no left over objective value to be dealt with. If we once thought that a particular painter’s work was worth millions, but decide suddenly that its rubbish, we do not make the argument that the thing has some objective value that it was once assigned and that now can’t be gotten over. Nor do we say of those who were once enslaved that they do not have any rights because society agreed at one point that this was the case.

Thus we are left with a simple fact of numbers and power. If enough people agree that certain things have certain value, then they can enforce those views. It does not make them “right” for in such a relative system, there can be no “right.” There are only opinions about what things have what value. A mass of opinions, no matter how large or for whatever span of time, never becomes objective fact.

Now this presents some very sticky situations for the atheist morality. And we must say straight away that there is no denying that atheists can have morality. People who say those kind of things have not thought the matter all the way through. But the matter is, admittedly, rather difficult when an atheist says something like “The law should change” or “society is wrong.” For what is meant by “should” and “wrong?” Society’s value system is a system of general agreement on what has and does not have this or that value. In an atheistic world, this fact of society giving value itself has only the value that the individual or society gives it. In other words, if I think society’s values are worthless, they are in fact worthless to me. But at the same time, if society thinks my values are worthless, they are, because they have been assigned no value by society.

When an atheist says of society “You should be different” what she is saying is “Your values should match my value” or, in other words “You should assign value to my own value assignments.” But where does the “should” come from? Is there an overarching value which she can appeal to and by which she can measure her values to see that they conform to it more closely than society’s?  No. There is only her own assignment of value. What she can say is “I desire that society’s values more closely matched my own.” And indeed, we all, to some great degree, desire this, for it would make all of our lives less frustrating. The danger, which I will not go into other than to mention it here, is that that often transforms into “I value myself above all others, therefore all others should value me above themselves.” Such a world is not workable.

Thus we find that there is no “moral ground” for an atheist to hold one set of morals above any other. If all value is assigned by the individual, then we live in a world where the best we can do is find other likeminded people and live in some approximate harmony. But we cannot, I do not say “should not” since that would be self-contradictory in such a system, claim a superiority of our own values over another’s if we hold to an atheist perspective and desire to be consistent. Now a theist can, without self contradiction. A theist can, though she may be incorrect, claim that her values match the ultimate underlying values of the universe. She can do this without self-contradiction, for her system holds that a human being has real intrinsic value that exists whether or not she likes it. She may be wrong. She may think that things have no value which have great value, or things which she assigns great value to may be almost worthless. But she is merely in error then, not in self-contradiction. Thus a theist can say to society “You are wrong” without entering self-contradiction.

The second thing an atheist might appeal to is nature. Evolution seems to have put forward certain traits that are useful for the building of society. Therefore we can look to these particular patterns as the most valuable for people to adhere to. One sees the problem with this perspective immediately. It requires numerous presuppositions.

First, one must value the data of evolution as relevant to one’s daily life. Many do, but it is also easy to simply say “that data is interesting, and it informs me about what human beings are like, but all that does is to help me to figure out how best to manipulate them, or to help them.” Data which may seem like the most important thing to one person can have absolutely no, or completely different value to another. The data is itself not intrinsically valuable because it has to do with our origin as a species. The argument for God’s objective perspective on morality is not based on mere origin.[3]  God’s objective moral authority is recognized by theists because God is not only the creator of the universe but is also alive, thinking, and indeed, moral Himself.[4]  God invents the idea of the tree and gives it value. Evolution does not.

Second, even if one were to acknowledge that the data is valuable for society, a person would have to assign value to society for a benefit to society to be valuable to him. You may say “X will help Y immeasurably” but unless I value Y, X has no importance.

Thus, unless I value either the data of evolution, or society, this system of value means nothing. Again, the majority might all agree, and they might be able to enforce their agreement, but they do not, by doing so, assign objective value to these things.

The third position is that, because we are able to assign value to things, we have intrinsic value ourselves. As sources of value, we must ourselves have value. Now, this is true in a theistic universe where God says to humanity “I will, in some way, value what you value.” But it is not true in an atheistic world, because unless I myself value your ability to assign value, it means nothing to me. In fact, from the outside, in a purely natural world, the ability to assign value has absolutely no intrinsic value. Rocks do not care that you can assign value to things, trees are indifferent. The cosmos at large and the smallest grub worm have no issue in smashing you to bits and crawling through your remains. Thus, even the ability to assign value has only the value given to it by those who assign it.

So where does this leave us? It seems that there are two positions then an atheistic morality must take.

1. To reject the total subjective nature of value and insist that there are some things which are really valuable. Anyone who thinks that the rape of a child, the enslavement of a race of people, or even verbal abuse on the street is objectively wrong, must fall into this camp or fall into self-contradiction. To acknowledge that some things have real objective value is to abandon the simple atheist camp and begins to approach theism by acknowledging that there is some objective assignment of value in reality that is beyond nature, for to say that it is in nature is to simply make it one more thing that we can evaluate as valuable or not, and thus not objective.

2. To accept the total subjective nature of value and recognize the inherent contradiction in their position if they try to insist that other people’s values should be different than they are. Thus, if all value is subjective, and one is in the minority, one must realize that there is contradiction in saying “It should not be this way.” Then the person must decide whether or not he values consistency. If he does not, he may shout as loud as he likes until someone shuts him up. But if he does value consistency, he will realize that to say that things “should” be otherwise is less true than simply saying that he wants them to be otherwise.

Of course, then, one must decide whether or not one values truth.

 

[1] We are putting aside here the complicated fact that we may easily argue with each other about what value God has given to things. While those arguments happen all of the time, they are about the particular objective value assigned to a thing, not about whether or not there is an objective value assigned to a thing. Thus when religious debates went on about value of Native Americans and later of African slaves, they were debates that argued about what kind of value these beings had. Were they human, and thus deserving of all human dignity, or less than human, and deserving of less than human dignity? It was always a question of objective value, not of subjective value. It is, of course, of great shame to Christianity, that any of its traditions and arguments could be used to treat humans as if they are less than humans, as continues today with the treatment of women in many Christian societies.

[2] It is important to note here that this description is a description of the facts of morality, not of the moral goodness of particular people. It is evident that a theist, confronted with the brute fact of the value of another person, can transgress that value and do horrific moral evil. It is also a fact that an atheist, acknowledging that a thing only has the value he gives it, can treat that thing with the utmost respect and dignity. There is no question here about theists being more moral than atheists. As far as I can tell, there is no evidence that this is the case. Instead, this is a description of the position each of the two is in when faced with the problem of value.

[3] For then we would have to assign some level of value of objectivity to our parents, our biological ancestors, and eventually to non-biological elements in the sea, which presents the same problem as evolution: an amoral reality creating morality. By no means can a really moral person leave their moral structure to an amoral agent. One might as well then toss a coin or roll a pair of dice.

[4] This is not the place for a discussion of what some people think the Bible says about God’s immorality. Difficult passages are difficult, and they must be studied. But they are studied in light of the firmly held doctrine of God’s Goodness.

Thinking Clearly about Hobby Lobby

HLA friend just posted on Facebook about the Supreme Court’s Hobby Lobby decision. For the purposes of anonymity I will leave her name out of this post and simply deal with the argument. My concern here is very narrow, and only addresses the logic of the following arguments. The original post states the following.

A) A company who does or does not offer coverage for contraception has the “power of life and death” over their employees.

B) By not paying for contraception, the Employer has a say over whether or not women procreate.

C) A quote from Justice Sonia Sotomayor  “Is your claim limited to sensitive materials like contraceptives, or does it include items like blood transfusion, vaccines? For some religions, products made of pork? Is any claim under your theory that has a religious basis, could an employer preclude the use of those items as well?”

D) By choosing not to pay for contraception, Hobby Lobby, a for-profit company, is imposing its religious views on its employees.

E) That this stance by Hobby Lobby is the same as determining the religious beliefs for someone.

Comments on the post point out that Viagra is still covered, and that this is a double standard.

 

In response, I will first say that I don’t have any moral compunction against birth-control. I think that it is fully within the moral freedom of a human being to exercise, to the extent of his or her abilities, power over the reproductive act. I do not think that sex and procreation must always go together, any more than I think that taste must always accompany a full stomach. If one thinks that, by an act of power and will, humans should not experience the pleasure of Eros without the consequence of birth, they should also be lobbying very hard against chewing gum, which provides flavor with no nutritional value…and diet sodas….well, perhaps we should all be lobbying against diet sodas.

That being said, I think that the whole perspective of the original post is flawed. I want to put the argument as plainly as I can, so that if I am wrong, it will be easier to show it.

1. There is a difference between (a) forcing someone to do something/prohibiting someone from doing something and (b) not assisting someone in an act but also not prohibiting them. This is easily shown by observing the difference between stopping someone from crossing the street/making them cross the street at gunpoint, and simply not interfering or aiding them cross the street. The first (a) is an impinging on their freedom. The second (b) is an exercise of your own freedom. Now, it may sometimes be wrong to do (b) when the person needs help, but that is a different matter.

2. Hobby Lobby, as well as many other companies see the government as dong (a) forcing them to spend their money on something they find morally wrong. By insisting that they support birth control, the government is removing their freedom to act in accord with their ethics.

3. Critiques of this decision, like the one above, accuse Hobby Lobby of doing (a). In fact, arguments A-E all restate this in some way.

4. However, Hobby Lobby’s action of not covering birth control is actually the same as  (b) which is exercising their freedom to not help someone do something.

Why this is important:

Companies are run by people, and people, in general, have morals (the quality of their morals is not the issue of debate here). For a government or company to (a) force people to use their money against their morals would be an infringement on their freedom. In fact, many people do object to the way their taxes are spent on moral grounds. No one wants a government or a company to force them to do something they find morally reprehensible.

However, this is not what Hobby Lobby is doing. Instead, They are doing (b) which is that they are exercising their right not to help or hinder. If they are forcing people to do anything, they are forcing people to pay for their own birth control, or to see other sources of funding for their birth control, if they want birth control. Paying for one’s own birth control does not seem to be a morally reprehensible act. If it is, I have yet to see an argument that shows it to be.

Justice Sotomayor’s statement falls into the same error. While it would be important to know if your health insurance covers blood transfusions, which would be a valid concern if one was working for a company run by people who have a moral compunction against this (though those religions actually have a more complicated stance on this issue, as far as I know), no company could tell you not to eat pork. They might not serve pork, and they might even prohibit pork on their grounds, but in no way are they infringing on a person’s right to eat pork on their own time, or to buy pork.

As a side note, the Viagra comparison is also logically flawed. Viagra allows some men to have sex who otherwise could not. Birth control does not do this for women. Birth control attempts to control the unwanted procreation of offspring. It is not clear exactly how these two things are at all comparable.

Also, it is good to  note that there is a drug that allows some women to have sex who otherwise could not, and that drug is also Viagra. A faithful woman in a relationship with a man who cannot perform the sexual act without Viagra cannot have sex. An unfaithful woman could, of course, but that is neither here nor there.

And finally, as far as I can tell, there are no moral objections to Viagra. Is that because there’s a double standard trying to keep women down? Well, I could believe that if in fact the majority of men using Viagra were using it to have sex with each other. But, as it happens, I don’t think there is such a statistic. Instead, there’s no moral objection to Viagra because it restores a natural function of the body, it does not prohibit one. Birth control, for good or ill, prohibits what would take place in the course of nature. Ergo, some people have a problem with it. Again, I do not.

Finally, the slippery slope of this situation would be the idea that people give up their rights to be moral creatures the moment they work for a corporation. A person who is a CEO who is told, “I don’t care if you think it is good or evil, just do your job” is a person who is living in a culture that is not far from despotism. We may find other people’s morals to be inconvenient, or even damaging to our livelihoods. But the moment we start empowering the government to tell people, just because they are part of a company, that their morals don’t matter, is the moment we empower the government to tell us the same thing about our own morals.

 

Why Suffering 2: After Goodness

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Last week’s blog attempted to explain why, on a natural level, there must be some level of pain, if only very minor, in the process of becoming like God. This week I want to look at why I think that in our present state, it must involve more than simply that small act of letting go of our natural desires and involve real suffering. But first I want to revisit that transcendence of the natural desire for a moment.

We might imagine that for the first unfallen humans, not killing a particular animal or not eating the fruit was as easy as any other task. I think we would be wrong in saying this, for there are two kinds of commandment. The first, which we are more familiar with, involves keeping us away from doing what is really evil. “Do not murder” is always true everywhere. “Do not lie in court against your neighbor” is never untrue. However, “do not slay the white hart, for in the day you do Camelot will fall” is a different kind of command.

On its surface, it is a kind of magic. As long as the fruit is uneaten, or as long as the hart bounds through the forest, the magical land holds. When the rule is broken, the magic fades. But there is a deeper reality to the rule. It calls creatures onward and upward into God’s life. Each time the first people saw the fruit or the animal or whatever they were forbidden, there must have been a process of putting down a natural desire for it. That denial would have been an effort. It would probably not have been very hard, but it would have had to have been conscious for the magic to work. For in denying the natural good of this one thing, they see the better supernatural good of God.

But they did not do this forever. They fell. They broke the magic, and the garden fled. Or, perhaps, it is better to say that the garden was only a garden and not a wild jungle of dangers because those who walked in it were immortal gods for as long as they were obedient to the command. Lions will be lions, but their fangs mean nothing to Apollo. We need not claim that the world became wild only after sin, but that we, after long ages of evolution, came to be men and women with the immortalizing of our spiritual and rational elements as they were given to our newly immortal bodies. To such ones even the saber toothed tiger would be no more dangerous than the housecat . . . even less so.

However we say it, the gods became mortal, and sin entered the world. This sin, which is no different than the sin that lives in each of us, takes from us the easy joy in the other’s good, and sets us in fierce competition with each other. It makes the desire for things a terrible lord over our hearts. It sets jealousies and desires where there should not be. The lusts for sex and pleasure are set in a kind of disorder, but terribly worse is the lust for power and domination. To set our wills above the wills of others, to engorge ourselves by making others slaves or mere extensions of ourselves, is the direct product of our sin.

To be in this state is to be in a state opposed to God. And how can it not be suffering to turn from all of this? One might say that it would be only joy to do so, and in the end I would agree. But in the beginning it involves pain. Firstly, because it involves the giving up of that which we desire with disordered longing. Strengthened by sin, this desire is not only disordered but ravenous. The denial of such ravenous desire must be pain. We have gone beyond the simple natural desire for the fruit that we imagine must taste good, or the animal which would give us hearty chase. Those desires might be overcome with only a small denial of self. But these desires, these lusts after power, possession, and dominance, can only be resisted with effort and pain. Secondly, because we have identified ourselves with these desires, to turn from them is to turn, in some ways, from ourselves.

For a sinless person, a turning from things that are bad would be ease and joy. But a sinless person need not turn from such things. Her trial comes in denying the good things which have been forbidden her because better things have been offered. But a sinful person suffers greatly when turning from her sin. She reaches once more for the old evil, pulls her hand back, kills the self again, weeps, and cries out for aid. The process involves tears. They are the tears of the desperate, the one in need of strength, not merely the contrite. The hunger for evil does not simply go when she has “cried it all out,” but remains until it is cut out of her.

Here we must remember the distinction between “a sin” and “Sin.” A single sin, or a bundle of sins, may be set aside with contrition (here I do not stand with my Catholic brethren, for I do not think that attrition is needed, or, if needed, is wholly dealt with by the cross). However, Sin, that destructive power that lives within us, cannot simply be wept away. No, remaking is necessary there, and that process must involve some level of suffering, for it involves death. Who and what we were will be unmade to be made again. The unmaking of a thing certainly is not a pleasurable process, and that must come first. Perhaps it will all come in the cancer or fire that take our lives. Perhaps.

All of this has been theology of reason. It takes what has been revealed and what is in our experience and considers its ramifications. I want to turn next week to the tradition of the church. For it does not seem to be the consensus of those who have gone before us that the suffering that will purge us from all sin is simply our natural death.

 

Image: “Garden of Eden” by Jan Brueghel the Elder, 1621

Fire Upon The Earth

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Sermon for Hope Lutheran Church in College Park, MD 8/18/2013

Texts:  Jeremiah 23:23-29
Hebrews: 11:29 – 12:2
Gospel: Luke 12:49-56

Our age is obsessed with the natural world.  We have learned how to manipulate it, control it, and we have delved many of its secrets.

Of course there are many secrets which we have only just scratched the surface of.  But the fruits of the pursuit of scientific knowledge are obvious and abundant.

But we have become so transfixed with our knowledge of the world that we have mistaken this kind of knowledge for all kinds of knowledge.  This kind of reality for all kinds of reality.

Jesus’ words in the Gospel today do not make sense in a purely naturalistic world, where there is only nature, but no supernature.  Where only the natural exists, the Gospel fails.  For Christ did not come to organize communities, or to set up societies.

No, instead, Christ tells us exactly what he came to do in this week’s reading.  He came, it says “to bring fire to the earth.”  But no, that’s not right.  The Greek reads “I came to throw, or cast fire upon the earth.”  Christ comes with a violent intention, to burn with fire, and to break like a hammer.  He has come to cast fire on the earth.

Now, fire consumes, fire destroys.  Where there is only the weak, fire fully destroys.  But where there are things that are made, not to resist, but to be refined by fire, it purifies.  The fire that Christ comes to cast upon the earth is like this.  It burns to purify that which is eternal by destroying all that is too weak and temporary to belong to the kingdom of God.

As George MacDonald, the great Scottish Preacher and Writer announces, God “will shake heaven and earth, that only the unshakable may remain: he is a consuming fire, that only that which cannot be consumed may stand forth eternal.”

It is a supernatural fire that comes with Christ.  For He is the supernatural man.  He is supernatural in two ways.  First, in that he is God come into humanity to stand among us while remaining the living and Eternal God.  Secondly, He is man, come into the Godhead to make a place for us women and men.  He is the bridge that lays itself down that all might come to the Father.  And like all bridges he connects the two lands, and has some share in both.

The supernatural man, then, does supernatural things.  He heals, he raises the dead, he says to the storm “be still!”  He commands the earth as its rightful Lord, for he is above it, and greater than it.

And here, he comes to cast a burning upon the earth, and how He wished in that moment that it was already kindled!  Why?  What is this burning that he wants to send into the world?  Is it the Holy Spirit?  Well, to some degree that is right, but we know that the Holy Spirit was already active in the world from the very first day.  Is it the kingdom?  He was at that time preaching the kingdom that was to be an image of the very country from which He came where love rules and peace is permanent.

If not these, then what?  What is the fire upon the earth?

Look to your left and your right.  There, in the pew ahead of you, and the one behind you.  There is the fire that Christ has hurled to the earth to burn it.  The Church, set ablaze by the Spirit who was given at Pentecost, living the kingdom that He has established, stands as fire upon the earth.

We are God’s fire, for we are in the Son, the Word that is like Fire, as Jeremiah tells us.  The fire given to us in the Holy Spirit is the same fire that was in Christ, the heart and mind of Christ that sets the world ablaze.  The Church, for whatever we think of her, her failings, her stumbles, her empty pews and petty infighting, is under all of that, the very heavenly life that God has become human to establish here.

The fire that comes is the fire of the Trinity, lived supernaturally in the lives of natural people.  The computer programmer, the bank teller, the construction worker, the lawyer, the bartender, and the retail worker all are elevated to the life of the burning fire of God.

But lest we be deceived, we must understand the nature of this fire.  It is a relentless destroying fire, for it burns away all that is natural to replace it with that which is supernatural.  It conforms that which is passing away into that which is eternal.  And what does the eternal look like?  Is it a conquering majesty of armies, of haughtiness, of those who lord it over one another?

No . . . it is a kingdom of forgiveness.  It is the reign of love and mercy.  The supernatural confounds our natural desires.  The Lord Jesus does not come like the captain at the head of his legions of angels.  He could have, but that is not His character, for it is not His Father’s Character.  Instead, he comes meekly, calling us to the same humble life of service to one another.  Come and take up his yoke, come and obey him, come and follow, taking up your cross.  God is meek and lowly of heart, He forgives all offenses, he does not repay evil for evil, he has mercy  at every turn.

Come good people and live in the life of the trinity given now to you as fire upon the earth, and burn away all enmity, all hatred, all grudges, all judgment, all jealousy.  Be fire that burns with generosity and love, and convert the world with your peace.  We are to be a blazing light of obedience.

This is the good news, that God is beyond our petty quarrels, and has called us to his life.  Do you worry if you will be justified before him?  Cast that worry aside and cling to Christ in obedience.  For the Good Master is indeed Good, and no news is better than that He is Himself, this very man, Jesus the Christ.

Rejoice, forgive your enemies, and which may be harder, forgive those you love,  and be fire upon the earth until all else is burned, and only the eternal remains!

Ethics Without Teeth

Mr. Zindler has written a post that outlines why Atheism can in fact have ethics without divine fiat (found here: http://www.atheists.org/content/ethics-without-gods).  The question has been addressed by numerous people, but bears some reexamination.  Mr. Zindler’s article can be broken down into a number of simple and worthwhile points.  I will address a number of these together immediately after, and then go on to some particular responses, following that.

1.  The ancient Greeks and Romans had ethics without divine fiat, especially some well known figures such as Aristotle and Marcus Aurelius.  These ethics were very serviceable at that time, though they would perhaps not be today.

2.  Religious people do not actually act good because they fear hell or hope for heaven.

3.  Our psychological makeup, formed by evolution, wishes to be surrounded by happiness, and thus drives us to make the people around us happy.  We are by nature, tuned to care for each other so that we ourselves will be happy.

4.  Altruism, or some form of it, is demonstrated by our near relatives in the animal world.  Heroism, is older than religion, and thus needs no foundation in religion.

5. Religious moral codes are stuck in previous times and places, and have not changed with the times.  Ethics are to be planted on the ground of scientific self-knowledge, and thus must change as our knowledge of science changes.

6.  Gods are not solid grounds of ethics anyway.  Either they decree whatever they will, and thus goodness is arbitrary, or they recognize universal truths outside of themselves, and then what do we need them for?

7.  Practice of Enlightened Self-Interest is the best way to gain prolonged happiness.

8.  Ethics is not a list of do’s and don’ts, but the practice of predicting outcomes and acting in the way that brings the most prolonged happiness to oneself.  Because we are social creatures, hard wired to find the most happiness when others around us are happy, then we would do best to keep as many other people as happy as possible to prolong our own happiness.

Each of these points is excellently made by Mr. Zindler.  However, the central theological question for Atheists is not, “can you have ethics without a God,” but “can your ethics have an imperative ground without a god?”  We may set up whatever rules for ourselves we like, but when push comes to shove, why should I do this or that?  For morality and ethics are the sciences of “should” and “should not.”  A man should not secretly murder a homeless man on the street, even if there is no chance of his getting caught, and every chance that the man’s death might make everyone on the street happier.  But by Mr. Zindler’s showing, there is no good evolutionary reason not to kill such a man, except that I should not do it too often and risk capture or reprisal.

In fact, the whole upshot of Mr. Zindler’s ethics is “if you do blatantly bad things too often, people will kill you.”  Yes, unless you are the strongest person in the room, or the one with the biggest weapons, or the one who has decided to make the other biggest, strongest, most well armed people happy and no others.  I may make a man with a machine gun happy, only to take the gun, shoot him in the head, and then be the man with the machine gun myself.  In a poor village with no one to stop me, and in a backwater that no world government cares about, who is to say, by Mr. Zindler’s definition, that I am wrong to rape and steal if I, or I and a few close friends, have machine guns, and the villagers do not?

There is no force of “should” to Mr. Zindler’s ethics, except “I should do this if I want to be happiest.”  But if the plunder of a village, and the rape of women and children makes me happy…as it seems to for quite a number of people in the history of the world, not simply the rare sociopath or psychopath, then where is the impetus to not do these things?  If, in fact, I do these things to increase the wealth of my own village, at the expense of other villages, I am not, by Mr. Zindler’s definition, being unethical.

Ultimately, Mr. Zindler has presented a method for treating human beings merely as objects through which we are to attain our own prolonged happiness.  But he has failed to show that there is any ground for me to follow these rules when they no longer suit me, or for me to make any claims against anyone else’s actions.  Nor has he shown good reason why rational sentient creatures should show the kind of heroism that he describes in his description of African Apes.  An ape may be driven by strong instinctual forces to die for those who can still reproduce, but a human can make a conscious choice.  And that choice, if driven by Mr. Zindler’s ethics, can never be made for the prolonged happiness of self if that choice leads to the death of the self.  In fact, when weighing between non-existence, and a semi-happy, or even miserable life, the life of any kind offers more chance of happiness than non-existence.  So, by Mr. Zindler’s ethics, anything at all should be chosen over the loss of one’s own life, since the pursuit of happiness is the ultimate goal of human ethics, and no happiness can come to a person who does not exist.

Thus, while Mr. Zindler shows that people can in fact have ethics, a statement that Theologians would not, I think, argue with, he fails to show that the ethics he can come up with are unworthy of the name.  In fact, he once more shows how weak such atheistic ethics really are when they are held up to simple reason and practical example.

Particular Responses:

Now, to some of his more interesting points.  (2)The fear of hellfire may not be the impetus for good action in many people, but can Mr. Zindler show that it is not the impetus in most or all religious people?  Certainly there are a vast number of religious personal accounts which contradict this statement.  One need only consider the piety of the late medieval period to find Mr. Zindler’s statement to be highly uniformed.

(6)His dissection of Plato is flawed as well, especially in a world where both Christianity and Islam have deeply considered Plato’s writings.  The Christian theological answer to this is that God, as the ground of being, forms all things in God’s own likeness, and therefore as a reflection of God’s own goodness.  Telling the truth is good because it reflects the Character of God who, being external to time and space, is not subject to predicates of condition.  Thus, we cannot say “God might have been a liar” because “might have been” is properly predicated of entities with a past and dependent on external conditions.  The Christian understanding of God is that neither of these apply, as God is external to time (Eternal) and unconditioned (no external power shapes God to be what God is).  Thus, ethics in Christian Theology are not merely the whim of a God, nor a God observing an external reality, but the very character of God, the ground of all being, reflected in the world that God created.  (5)  Thus, since God is unchanging, the structure of ethics and morals are unchanging.  If Christian ethics are stuck in an ancient time, it is not because they have merely been carried forward; it is because they reflect unchanging realities in the created world.  Therefore they carry the weight of “Should” because they are intrinsic to the very nature of the created reality.  We are made to follow them, and not following them does violence to ourselves and others, in either very practical ways (which he has shown through his explanation of our sociological and psychological norms) or in ways which we may call “Spiritual” that lead us further from these eternal moral realities.

(4) Mr. Zindler claims that Heroism is older than religion. Where is his evidence of this?  Certainly Heroism is older than the oldest Monotheistic religions, but where is this historical record of pre-religious humanity?  The simple fact is we have none.  Mr. Zindler is making a claim that cannot here be backed up by anyone, but is simply fueled by a myth propagated by people who dislike religion, and thus believe, without any kind of historical evidence, that early humans did not have religion.