Lawrence Krauss, when postulating various theories concerning what might have happened before the big bang will readily admit that cosmologists have no certain answer on the matter. Richard Dawkins, though boasting a comprehensive knowledge of evolutionary science, will admit that he doesn’t know how life formed from non-life. It is to its credit that science is so humble concerning what it doesn’t know. If only theists showed a modicum of this true modesty!
But they don’t. Theists KNOW how the universe began. They KNOW how life formed from non-life. They KNOW what is truly moral or immoral. But the truth is, they don’t know shit. They just think they know. That old Socratic adage “All I know is that I know nothing” is alive and well in the sciences; it keeps theorists’ minds open to new possibilities, more willing to change their previous models when new evidence comes to light. Theists have Genesis, ever unchanging, indifferent to new information, perpetually wrong. But even those theists who eschew a literal interpretation of Genesis, will confidently tout theism as a reliable source for moral wisdom.
Why do atheists adopt a defensive posture concerning ethics? Instead of brashly asserting our moral discoveries, like we do with proven scientific theories, we find ourselves defending the claim that morality can exist without God or attacking moral aberrations in the Old Testament. What if we admitted that (while there are dark spots in our ethical theories) they are still a hell of a lot better than anything theism has to offer? I think our reservations have to do with our relative uncertainty in what we can positively say concerning ethics.
Ethics falls into the domain of philosophy, an intellectual discipline which is commonly chided for its lack of discernable progress. Philosophers have struggled for centuries to find a mere foundation for ethics. And no foundational theory in ethics is without its problems. If one has not even laid a definite foundation for a theory, it’s hard to claim progress. Take hedonism, probably the most attractive value theory of the bunch: hedonists assert that happiness and pleasure are the things which contribute to a good life. To the hedonist, an action is right if it creates happiness or reduces pain and suffering; an action is wrong if it diminishes happiness or increases pain and suffering. But there is a problem with this theory. A doctor may cause you pain and suffering by informing you that you have inoperable cancer, but “breaking the bad news” is still the right thing to do. Autonomy is dear to our hearts, but a hedonist says that it is better to do actions that increase happiness, even if it undermines the autonomy of the action’s benefactor. The point is, there is plenty of disagreement in ethics and nothing remotely resembling a consensus. We have yet to fashion anything like the Periodic Table in ethics. Thus, ethical theory is seen as something more akin to alchemy than chemistry.
But philosophical ethics possesses many virtues that a religion-based ethics lacks: honesty, integrity, reasonableness, and (most importantly) humility. You see, while ethicists from different camps squabble over the importance of happiness or autonomy, religion callously asserts that making graven images is one of the ten most immoral things a person can do—all while neglecting to condemn slavery, or the rape of slaves, or genocide... the list goes on. But in all of this, theists speak with pride about how their morals are laid out in black and white, boasting that they are certain what the most ethical action is in any given situation. Perhaps there is something more valuable than certitude in these situations.
I’ll allow the philosopher Russ Shafer-Landau to drive my point home:
“Consider the case of Nuran Halitogullari, a 14-year-old girl from Istanbul who was abducted on her way home from the supermarket. She was raped over the course of six days and then rescued by police. After being reunited with her family, her father decided that she had dishonored their family by having been raped. He then exercised what he regarded as his rightful authority. As he told a newspaper reporter, ‘I decided to kill her because our honor was dirtied. I didn’t listen to her pleas; I wrapped the wire around her neck and pulled at it until she died.’”
As with Lawrence Krauss concerning the events before the big bang, perhaps the truly knowledgeable are the ones who will admit gaps in their knowledge. And (I think that this is especially true concerning ethics) those who claim to have absolute knowledge are the ones who really don’t know shit.
But they don’t. Theists KNOW how the universe began. They KNOW how life formed from non-life. They KNOW what is truly moral or immoral. But the truth is, they don’t know shit. They just think they know. That old Socratic adage “All I know is that I know nothing” is alive and well in the sciences; it keeps theorists’ minds open to new possibilities, more willing to change their previous models when new evidence comes to light. Theists have Genesis, ever unchanging, indifferent to new information, perpetually wrong. But even those theists who eschew a literal interpretation of Genesis, will confidently tout theism as a reliable source for moral wisdom.
Why do atheists adopt a defensive posture concerning ethics? Instead of brashly asserting our moral discoveries, like we do with proven scientific theories, we find ourselves defending the claim that morality can exist without God or attacking moral aberrations in the Old Testament. What if we admitted that (while there are dark spots in our ethical theories) they are still a hell of a lot better than anything theism has to offer? I think our reservations have to do with our relative uncertainty in what we can positively say concerning ethics.
Ethics falls into the domain of philosophy, an intellectual discipline which is commonly chided for its lack of discernable progress. Philosophers have struggled for centuries to find a mere foundation for ethics. And no foundational theory in ethics is without its problems. If one has not even laid a definite foundation for a theory, it’s hard to claim progress. Take hedonism, probably the most attractive value theory of the bunch: hedonists assert that happiness and pleasure are the things which contribute to a good life. To the hedonist, an action is right if it creates happiness or reduces pain and suffering; an action is wrong if it diminishes happiness or increases pain and suffering. But there is a problem with this theory. A doctor may cause you pain and suffering by informing you that you have inoperable cancer, but “breaking the bad news” is still the right thing to do. Autonomy is dear to our hearts, but a hedonist says that it is better to do actions that increase happiness, even if it undermines the autonomy of the action’s benefactor. The point is, there is plenty of disagreement in ethics and nothing remotely resembling a consensus. We have yet to fashion anything like the Periodic Table in ethics. Thus, ethical theory is seen as something more akin to alchemy than chemistry.
But philosophical ethics possesses many virtues that a religion-based ethics lacks: honesty, integrity, reasonableness, and (most importantly) humility. You see, while ethicists from different camps squabble over the importance of happiness or autonomy, religion callously asserts that making graven images is one of the ten most immoral things a person can do—all while neglecting to condemn slavery, or the rape of slaves, or genocide... the list goes on. But in all of this, theists speak with pride about how their morals are laid out in black and white, boasting that they are certain what the most ethical action is in any given situation. Perhaps there is something more valuable than certitude in these situations.
I’ll allow the philosopher Russ Shafer-Landau to drive my point home:
“Consider the case of Nuran Halitogullari, a 14-year-old girl from Istanbul who was abducted on her way home from the supermarket. She was raped over the course of six days and then rescued by police. After being reunited with her family, her father decided that she had dishonored their family by having been raped. He then exercised what he regarded as his rightful authority. As he told a newspaper reporter, ‘I decided to kill her because our honor was dirtied. I didn’t listen to her pleas; I wrapped the wire around her neck and pulled at it until she died.’”
As with Lawrence Krauss concerning the events before the big bang, perhaps the truly knowledgeable are the ones who will admit gaps in their knowledge. And (I think that this is especially true concerning ethics) those who claim to have absolute knowledge are the ones who really don’t know shit.
