Reading most everything readily available by C. S. Lewis has made drastic changes to my outlook and thinking. While I find Lewis challenging, I also find his ideas compelling and persuasive. As an aside, I think it is worth mentioning that while Lewis was certainly a Christian, the Christianity that he articulated and believed was extremely unorthodox. If Evangelicals and Mormons took the time to actually read Lewis and consider his viewpoint, their love affair with his work would come to a tragic and untimely end. Instead, they generally read Lewis through dogmatic blinders, recruiting him as an apologist for their cause even though what he really said was completely heretical by Mormon and Evangelical standards.
But that’s just my soapbox and it does not bear directly on the issue at hand.
Before I proceed, I want to at least try to define the terms I will be using so as to alleviate confusion. I’m going to talk about a dichotomy between two term clusters that represent ideas about truth and value. On the one hand, I am talking about “soft” subjective values, values that are relative to the individual and are thus immanent—necessarily tied to person and context and most importantly to an individual human mind—as opposed to transcendent. This “soft” approach to truth and value will be contrasted with the “hard” approach of the objective, absolute, and transcendent. By “objective” I mean that these truths or values or moral principles exist independent of individual perspective. Context is significant without question: by “absolute” I do not mean that these principles ought to be applied the same way to every circumstance, but that as principles they exist as absolutes and are not subject to revision based on preference or perspective. These truths, etc., are thus transcendent in that if they exist at all they must exist apart from and beyond human minds and human experience, and they remain the same although human understanding of them may change. Thus, if they exist, they exist by virtue of something other than human thought and experience.
C. S. Lewis eloquently articulates the difference between these thought concepts and their ramifications in his book The Abolition of Man. One of Lewis’s most cogent points in the book (which is short, and well worth reading) is a model of moral reasoning which I call the “Is-Ought-Should” model. In this model, moral imperatives can be expressed as a statement of fact (“is”), a statement of principle (“ought”), and a conclusion in the form of a direction to act (“should”). For example, let’s say I see someone experiencing extreme suffering—that’s the “is”—and I take as a moral principle that suffering ought to be alleviated—that’s the “ought”—then I should help the suffering person. The Should follows from the Is and Ought, and thus when you weaken Ought, you likewise weaken should. Furthermore, Ought principles do not simply exist as observable phenomena the way Is statements do. They have to have some source. Therefore, the less authoritative the source of the Ought principle, the less compelling the principle itself, ad thus the less force stands behind the moral directive. This is the most important point: if the source of the Ought statement has no practical claim on me, then ultimately I have no compelling reason to follow a moral directive. Furthermore, this is a mater of degree: the weaker the source of the Ought, the weaker my reason to act morally. The stronger the source of the Ought, the stronger my reason to act morally. An Ought with no source is not an Ought at all: it’s a bare assertion backed by nothing.
Ought statements can have a number of sources, ranging from completely subjective—personal preference is the very weakest, most subjective possible source, excepting perhaps the even more subjective momentary whim—to the category of completely objective sources, i.e. sources that exist independent of human experience, whether we are talking about principles that flow from God as the source of the universe, or principles that are simply coded into reality the way laws of physics—or spiritual laws like karma if such a thing exists—are. Lewis himself does not assert a source for objective moral law in The Abolition of Man, but rather he attempts to show by inference that such laws do exist objectively because of their universal acceptance, and thus Lewis implies that objective moral law exists, and therefore necessarily has an objective transcendent source.
In any case, the conclusion remains that the weaker and more subjective the source of the Ought, the less compelling the Should, and the less claim that morality has on the individual. Alternately, without addressing the issue of source, the more subjective the Ought, the weaker the Should.
The problem with people who reject objective, transcendent moral values, says Lewis, is that all too often they want to hold on to moral statements and moral assertions. The result is that they go from Is to Should without passing through Ought. They want to say that you should help the suffering person without articulating a reason why suffering ought to be alleviated, or at least without articulating a compelling source for the Ought. In other words, they want to tell you to act according to a moral standard without giving you any kind of compelling reason, and then they invariably act all surprised and concerned when you don’t.
Why does any of this matter? Essentially, it is an issue of moral reasoning and moral judgment. If Should is undermined by a weak or nonexistent Ought, then we lose the ability to make moral judgments at all—we can’t criticize ourselves or others for acting immorally when we can’t articulate in a compelling sense why our/their actions are immoral. Likewise we lose the ability to speak of morality in prescriptive terms: we can hardly propose a virtuous course of action for ourselves or others if we can’t give a compelling reason why.
This is a problem with all ethical systems that do not involve an absolute, transcendent source for morality: they fail to give a compelling reason to the most basic human question: “Why?” Most non-absolute ethical systems, like Kant’s categorical imperative taken on its face, are really only descriptive of ethics. Kant can say that we should act only on that maxim which we can, at the same time, will to be a universal law, but without appealing to a transcendent source for that principle, he can’t tell us why we should bother. If that is indeed a description of morality, it is a description only. It may explain how a moral or ethical person acts, but it does not give a good reason why any given person should act that way.
Utilitarianism—the idea that at any given juncture we should take the action that provides the most good to the most people—encounters the same problem. Setting aside the massive problems with determining what course of action actually achieves that good, especially when it leaves the realm of the individual and is applied to public policy situations, and even setting aside fundamental problems with “what is good,” Utilitarianism still reaches a dead end when it comes to the question of why. It tells us how we should act, or it tells us how a moral or ethical person does act, but it does not give us a reason to act that way.
Pragmatism is no different. In fact, I might argue that pragmatism really just means utilitarianism or naked self-interest, which means pragmatism is a troublesome guide in that it can be difficult to identify what course of action is indeed the most pragmatic, especially in complex situations. Even if pragmatism is functional, it still fails to adequately answer the question of why. ‘Because it works” is a kind of answer, but it is not a satisfactory answer. It doesn’t really give a basis for making confident moral judgments, and since it is essentially sourceless, it fails to give truly compelling reasons for any given course of action.
If sourceless morality is all we have, then we may as well admit it, and stop pretending that our moral judgments are weightier than they are. If morality really does have an objective source, then we should be earnestly trying to figure out what it is.
Sailing to Byzantium 
“They want to say that you should help the suffering person without articulating a reason why suffering ought to be alleviated, or at least without articulating a compelling source for the Ought. In other words, they want to tell you to act according to a moral standard without giving you any kind of compelling reason, and then they invariably act all surprised and concerned when you don’t.”
As I have expressed before, I find this to be an underwhelming straw man in Lewis’ formulation of secular humanism, even if the importance of a *certain kind* of ought is still important to your thought train. I think that what he (and you) are really taking beef with is not the absence of any intelligibly-articulated “ought”, but a dissatisfaction with “oughts” that claim less-than-cosmic origins and a susupicion that secular “oughts” are quietly plagiarized from cosmic “oughts”.
“Kant can”:
‘nough said.
I still think that a “game theory” version of morality is quite grounded in reality and not subjective at all. Game theory, which I was introduced to in Economics, imagines human behavior as resembling that of two prisoners being interrogated for a crime in separate rooms. If either one confesses, he gets an easy sentence and his partner ends up in the slammer for life. If both confess, they are both punished seriously, though not as badly as in the case where one confesses and the other gets hit with the books. If neither confess, the police lack the evidence for a conviction and they both get off scot-free. The trick is, of course, they don’t know if their partner has confessed or not when they have to make the decision.
As a society, we agree not to kill essentially because we do not want to be killed. Anybody, at any point, could break that agreement to serve his own purposes– at no risk to himself if he is sure of getting away with it. Why don’t we do so? For one thing, of course, we fear the unknown: we do not usually know if we will be caught. But we also fear the ramifications of social meltdown– the implication of me breaking the agreement not to kill is that I am no longer protected, no longer part of a system in which I am deserving of the protection from being killed by others (which alsomay be the only difference between humankind and wild primates). It is precicely because the agreement is an apparition and not a law carved in the asteroids that the implications of breaking it evoke such terror in man. And yet the fact that people do reliably break the social rules under certain conditions suggests that, in fact, there is ample enough incentive for individuals to disregard agreed-upon subjective rules in individual cases. Furthermore, we as a society tend to forgive those who act against consensual morals for their own benefit in extreme cases, especially if it is to fulfil an obligation to one’s family. These last two points are not evidence in favor of consensual morality, but they are key points in demonstrating that consensual morality is, as a theory, consistent with deviant cases as well.
I don’t know what conclusion you will come to. For me, accepting and embracing purely subjective Oughts has liberating and invigorating. I get to ask myself the question “What do I truly want?”
The answer closely resembles what we call a moral life. The difference for me is that it comes from within me instead of from on high as a revelation in the hands of some old goatherd. The fact that it comes from within gives it power and I am more likely to act on it. I am basically following the Law of Thelema or the Wiccan Rede: “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law” or “An it harm none, do what thou wilt”.
Of course this doesn’t approach how we can arrive at a communal morality.
“What do I truly want?”
The idea of all mankind asking that question to determine what is right and good terrifies me.
Most of us find the answers that sociopaths provide to that question disturbing. Their answers aren’t what we would hope for.
But the truth is that we all already live this way. We just think that we live by some absolute standard of morality, but we already live according to the dictates of our own conscience and desires within the constraints placed on us by our community. I think a lot of us have been taught to distrust the morality of the average person, but I think that is too dim a view of humanity. There are wolves in the flock it is true, but most of us I imagine to be basically goodhearted.
The only changes that I can see that would come from openly acknowledging the subjective nature of our community and individual standards would be that we would be less willing to mete out harsh punishments, more tolerant of diversity of opinion, have more clarity about what exactly it is we’re doing when we set community standards of behavior, and maybe find a little more fulfillment in life by generally following our own path.
So I say welcome to the world that frightens you: it’s already here.
I’m actually confused at Tim’s response, as “what do I truly want?” should only create fearsome results if read in the most superficial light possible. (ie, what does my id want). Most of us _want_ many shallow things, but we _truly want_ things like wholeness, truth, and rightness with and knowledge of God and/or the universe. No?
But the truth is that we all already live this way. We just think that we live by some absolute standard of morality, but we already live according to the dictates of our own conscience . .
So I say welcome to the world that frightens you: it’s already here.
I absolutely agree. This isn’t news to me. It’s something that’s fundamental to my worldview. “everyone did what was right in his own eyes”
Why do you way Lewis is unorthodox?
As far as I can see, he is very mainstream. Can you give me some examples?
Thanks – I found this very interesting, and the ensuing debate.
Not sure I go along with your paragraph on Kant though. I wouldn’t claim he has identified the irrefutable foundation of moral obligation, but I think he got a lot closer than a lot of other alternatives, whether sacred or secular. I would say Kant’s categorical imperative was as ‘absolute’ as they come (almost by definition).
He attempted to show that the categorical imperative was binding on all free and rational beings as a necessary consequence of their being free and rational. A rational being behaves in accordance with laws. Free rational beings behave in accordance with laws they themselves make. But laws are by definition universal. Hence the categorical imperative, in its various wordings.
The ‘transcendent source’ you refer to as missing from Kant’s principle is missing for a good reason. Obligation to anything outside the autonomous will is not moral obligation; it is hypothetical, not categorical. If you want to live, do this. If you want to get to heaven, do this. If you live in a universe created by a god, do what the god says.
I don’t think Kant’s arguments are 100% sound. But they are profound in their imperfection. I think he does ‘give a good reason why any given person should act’ in accordance with the categorical imperative. The good reason is that to act otherwise is to diminish either your rationality or your freedom or both. He may not be absolutely right, and of course a given person may not be quite so concerned with his or her freedom and rationality as he assumes all free rational beings will be. But it’s quite a good reason nonetheless.
Thanks again,
Chris Lawrence.
Chris Lawrence
thinking makes it so