Natural Law's Modern Cousin Germain: Consequences Matter

CONSEQUENTIALISM IN ITS PURE FORM, that is, as an ethical theory where consequences are absolutely defining of the good, is unreasonable. Yet to hold the opposite--that consequences are absolutely irrelevant--is also error. The requirements of practical reasonableness straddle both extremes of irrationality and provide for a limited relevance of consequences, of efficiency within reason, of utility within the constraints of moral absolutes.

When one makes moral choices, one operates under a certain incumbency that the choices be efficient. In other words, our choices ought efficiently to implement the coherent plan of life or the particular value or end one has chosen. "One must not waste one's opportunities by using inefficient methods." NLNR, 111. In this limited sense, utility, efficiency, consequences are reasonably regarded as important and part and parcel of the requirements of practical reasonableness.

One would be blind to suggest that reason cannot weigh and recognize the following:

There is a wide range of contexts in which it is possible and only reasonable to calculate, measure, compare, weigh, and assess the consequences of alternative decisions. Where a choice must be made it is reasonable to prefer human good to the good of animals. where a choice must be made it is reasonable to prefer basic human goods (such as life) to merely instrumental goods such as property). Where damage is inevitable, it is reasonable to prefer stunning to wounding, wounding to maiming, maiming to death: i.e. lesser rather than greater damage to one-and-the same basic good in one-and-the-same instantiation. Where one way of participating in a human good includes both all the aspects and effects of its alternative, and more, it is reasonable to prefer that way: a remedy that both relieves pain and heals is to be preferred to the one that merely relieves pain.

NLNR, 111.

However, the requirement of efficiency is only one of other requirements of practical reasonableness. That is why it cannot be absolutized over the others. Just like all the other basic human values must be held of equal account, so also all the requirements of practical reasonableness must be held of equal account. It is for this reason that "[a]s a general strategy of moral reasoning, utilitarianism or consequentialism is irrational."* "[E]very attempt to make it [consequences] the exclusive or supreme or even the central principle of practical thinking is irrational and hence immoral." NLNR, 118.

Solon Before Croesus by Gerrit van Honthorst (1590 - 1656)

Unfortunately, most modern systems of ethics are infected by consequentialistic thought, and it follows from the fact that these theories absolutize consequences as the means for determining the good that these ethical systems are irrational. The "fundamental problem" with modern consequentialistic ethics, "is that the methodological injunction to maximize good(s) is irrational." NLNR, 113. Not only is such a program unworkable from a practical perspective (which itself ought to give one pause in adopting it), but it is fundamentally senseless, senseless, as Finnis puts it, as trying to "sum together the size of this page, the number six, and the mass of this book." NLNR, 113. The consequentialist puts himself in a situation where he is trying to measure and weigh things that cannot be measured and properly weighed and sum things that cannot be summed. In adopting consequentialism, we walk into a realm of morality as equally senseless as the realm of reality into which Alice falls into in Lewis Carrol's Alice in Wonderland.

How so?

The calculative logic demanded by consequentialism requires either (i) a single dominant temporal end or goal for man the efficiency toward which may be measured,** or, if there is no such single, dominant temporal end, (ii) a common factor of measurement of differing goals (e.g., satisfaction of desire, minimization of pain, maximization of pleasure). "But neither of these conditions obtains." NLNR, 113.

If we adopt a single temporal end for all men, if good is to be univocally understood, it is as foolish a suggestion as trying to fit men to the same Proscrustean bed. And what shall that end be? "Only an inhumane fanatic thinks that man is made to flourish in only one way or for only one purpose." NLNR, 113. When it comes to temporal ends, are we all really obliged to wear the same Mao suit? On the other hand, if any end will do, then good becomes something equivocal. Calling good "satisfaction of desire," for example, subjectivizes the notion of good to the point of irrelevancy. For example, if "satisfaction of desire" is selected as the end of man, we have no plausible means of dividing out and distinguishing the pleasure of the Marquis de Sade in his bedroom from the pleasure of St. Jerome in his study. Are these ends really alike? It is unreasonable to suggest that the pursuit of knowledge is equivalent to the pursuit of lust. In the absence of a single temporal end for all men, and in the absence of a workable solution without out a single temporal end for all men other than some subjective end, it would seem that consequentialism must look toward some sort of common measure.

If, in view of the lack of a single temporal end, we adopt some common measurement factor, we find ourselves having lost any sort of reasonable compass. Any such measure--the "greatest net good," or the "best consequences," or the "lesser evil," or the "smallest net harm," or the "greater balance of good over bad"--is fraught with problems. An ethic that builds itself on pleasure--and that would allow for pleasure's increase as reasonable even if it calls for arbitrary acts and a rejection of a comprehensive plan of life--is an ethic that is "only worthy of swine." (Mill) The substitution of minimization of pain for the maximization of pleasure or any other adaptation is equally unavailing as a standard. To measure "pleasure" and "pain" is already an impossible task, and making these measures more sophisticated or nuanced only exacerbates the calculative problem.

The most apparent problem is that there is no balance between good (however it be defined, pleasure or anything else) and evil (which would be the negative of the good). In other words, can it be said that one measure of good overcomes one measure of evil? If so, then why does evil have equal voting rights with the good? If not, what is the ratio between good and evil, and why?

There are also problems in measuring between pleasures (or between pains). If to clamber out of the "swine" factor requires distinguishing between high pleasures and low pleasures, whose values are going to make this decision? And what factor is to be used to distinguish the degrees of pleasure of the drunk with his Mogen David wine and the pleasure of the dilettante with his Domaine Romanée-Conti?

Even more problematic, how do we measure the pleasures that differ in kind, and not only in degree? How, for example, do we compare the desire for an orgasm with the desire for God? How do we compare the desire for eating caviar with the desire for progeny?

Then there is the problem of whether the vantage point ought to be individual or aggregate. Is the moral question one where I measure what is best for me, or is it rather that someone else measures what is best for all?*** Is the all to include only those that are alive when the calculus is performed? Or is it to include those that come after us?

And if we decide to select an aggregate vantage point our problems still are not over. Is our final measure the maximum amount of good (or the minimal amount of evil) regardless of distribution (overall utility)? If so, then so long as the total amount of good is maximized (or evil minimized), we can justify the enslavement of a proportion of all so long as the misery associated with the enslaved is exceeded by the pleasure of those who benefit from the enslavement. If we try to fix the problems associated with distribution (maximum average utility, or maximum amounts of good for those worst off, or, most ominously, maximum equal amounts of good for everyone), the consequentialist runs into a conundrum: "[T]here is no consequentialist reason for preferring any particular one of the eligible specifications. The ambition to maximize goods logically cannot be a sufficient principle of practical reasoning."****

Moreover, whether minimization of some factor or maximization of another factor is selected, the calculus to be performed is--short of some sort of divine intellect--impossible to cipher for even the smallest individual act. The alternative options to any particular choice are potentially innumerable. How is one to measure each of these and weigh them against each other? Where are we to begin? And where are we to end? "A genuine consequentialist assessment of alternative possiblities could never end, and could begin anywhere. So it should never begin anywhere." NLNR, 117.

Who, for example, can predict what the consequences are, under any measure of good, for using artificial contraception which prevents a certain child from having been born? What would that child (or that child's child or that child's child's child) have contributed to the happiness or pleasure of the mother when a mother (or a grandmother, or a great grandmother) or to the world at large is impossible to say. We are sort of like Croesus before Solon: we cannot know whether one is happy until one is dead, and one cannot know whether what one has done is right until all consequences of a choice have rippled through the course of history until the end of time, which will happen long after the actor confronted with the choice has made his decision.

Thus, it appears that in both practice and theory, consequentialism as a moral theory is found wanting. "In short, no determinate meaning can be found for the term 'good' that would allow any commensurating and calculus of good to be made in order to settle those basic questions of practical reason which we call 'moral' questions." NLNR, 115. The basic human goods--life, knowledge, play, aesthetic pleasure, friendship, religion, and practical reasonableness--are objectively incommensurable, and so any ethical theory must operate with this obvious impediment. Consequentialism's continuing efforts to measure and weigh what is unmeasurable and unweighable are in vain. The theory is fundamentally senseless.

The Finnisian proposal does not require commensurating the incommensurable. Adopting a plan of life in light of the multiple human values or goods is not measuring the immeasurable:

[O]ne can adopt a set of commitments that will bring the basic values into a relation with each other sufficient to enable one to choose projects and, in some cases, to undertake a cost-benefit analysis (or preference-maximizing or other like analysis) with some prospect of a determinate 'best solution'. But the adoption of a set of commitments, by and individual or a society, is nothing like carrying out a calculus of commensurable goods, though it should be controlled by all the rational requirements . . . and so is far from being blind, arbitrary, directionless, or indiscriminate.

NLNR, 115.

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*The issue of consequentialism has been treated at some depth replying in particular on the work of Professor Oderberg. See Consequentialism and Natural Law.
**I say "temporal" because if God is said to be the single, well-defined end of man, it is not sufficient to answer the moral question in regard to the temporal unless the glory of God or the end of friendship with God can only be manifested in one way. But since the glory or love of God may be expressed in countless ways, through "inexhaustibly man life-plans," it follows that God as man's last end is not an adequate common goal sufficient to build a consequentialist ethic. Besides, there is no consequentialist ethicist that would hold God to be man's final end. If there were, then the he would also recognize the relative nature of consequential thought and would recognize the existence of moral absolutes.
***"Jeremy Bentham oscillated and equivocated for sixty years about whether his utilitarianism was to maximize his own happiness or the happiness of 'everbody'." NLNR, 116. Maybe his mummified head is still oscillating and equivocating about it.
****Which is to say that it is necessary, but not sufficient. The other elements of practical reasonableness need to be part of the application of practical reasonableness. Efficiency (utility) is only one necessary but not sufficient prong of a multi-pronged approach, each of which other prongs are necessary but not sufficient alone or in partial aggregation. All prongs must act together to yield practical reasonableness in its fullness which, in its fullness, is both necessary and sufficient.

Opera et Omissiones: Differentia non est and the Recipe for Neurosis

DERISION OF YET ANOTHER DISTINCTION, this time between act and omission, is also something seen among objectors to the principle of double effect. An advocate of traditional morality would distinguish, as morally significant, acts from omissions, from doing something as distinguished from having failed to do something. There are good acts, and there are bad acts. Likewise, there are good omissions and there are bad omissions. Determining when an omission, or a failure to act, is to be morally blameworthy, and when the omission is to be regarded as morally good, or at least not morally objectionable, can sometimes be difficult. When am I compelled to act, under a duty to act, so that in not acting I suffer moral failure? The traditionalist thinks these questions make sense. A consequentialist, who looks at consequences alone, does not. But the consequentialist's failure seriously to consider the difference between act and omission leads him to place unrealistic moral burdens on people which puts them under a false sense of guilt, and, ultimately unravels the basic fabric of morality itself. There is, to be sure, an axe already at the foot of the tree, and trees that do not bear good fruit shall be cut down and thrown into the fire (cf. Matt. 3:10), but the axe ought not to be used to cut down trees that are not bearing fruit when out of season. Even God does not require trees to bear fruit year-round.

Do we use the axe to chop down trees not bearing fruit year-round?
(Unknown Illustrator of Petrus Comestor's Bible Historiale 1372, Detail)

Consequentialists in particular seem to deride the difference between act and omission since it seems to lay the axe at their own theoretical tree. This is because they focus on consequences, on outcome alone and disregard the whole host of things that come into play in assessing moral acts. For a consequentialist, if an act and omission have the same consequences, then the difference between them, if there really is one, is irrelevant and immaterial to the premises. For the consequentialist, then, ceteris paribus, if I fail to give money to an African aid organization and, as a consequence, twenty starving Africans die, I am as equally blameworthy as a man who sends poisoned food to Africa and twenty starving Africans die.* The consequence is the same, so the moral act is equally blameworthy, though one actor omitted, and one actor committed.

Parable of the Good Samaritan
When is a man obliged to do good?
When is a man at fault for an omission?

Is this sort of view sensible?

In assessing the question distinctions have to be made. The first such distinction relates to duty. There are some duties that may be called "negative" duties, and some duties that may be termed "positive" duties. We may distinguish two pairs:

• A negative duty not to do something to another.
  
• A positive duty is a duty to ensure that that same thing is not done to another.
  
• A negative duty not to bring it about that someone lacks a particular thing.
  
• A positive duty to provide someone with a particular thing.
  

Examples can help us see the differences. Joe is under a duty not to burgle houses, but as a plain citizen he is not necessarily obliged to ensure that other people's homes aren't burgled. If Joe is a policeman, however, he may have a duty (depending upon the circumstances) to ensure that other people's homes are not being burgled. Joe is under a duty not to defame Mike (that is not to bring about that he lacks a good reputation). On the other hand, Joe is not under a duty to assure that Mike has a good name. These examples seem to show that there is an "asymmetry between negative and positive duties," one, however, that consequentialists do not seem to pay heed to as they ought to. Oderberg, 131.

Positive duties may oblige in a general sense exceptionlessly, but they do not bind us in all particular circumstances. For example, we have a duty to worship God through public worship, but that does not mean each and every instance of our life we must be worshiping God through public worship. If for no other reason, our attendance to other positive duties (for example the duty a mother has to care for her child, or even our duty to take care of our health and sleep from time-to-time) would require that, in some cases, some other positive duty or duties will go unfulfilled. "Ought implies can." One simply cannot fulfill all positive duties all the time, so it follows that they cannot all bind all the time. It's true that in some instances, circumstances (such as one's ability, office, or the existence of pre-existing duty) may stiffen the positive duty. For example, while someone without medical training does not have the duty to perform a tracheotomy on a choking victim, a surgeon might. Someone who cannot swim is not obliged to jump into a pool to save a drowning child, whereas the lifeguard, who has both the ability to swim and a pre-existing duty, is so obliged. From all this it sensibly follows that not complying with a positive duty, then, can sometimes be wrong, but is not always wrong.

Negative duties, on the other hand, do not have the same characteristics as positive duties. Negative duties, if exceptionless, bind every time, every place and do not raise the same impossibility as positive duties. (Though the lack of impossibility does not mean that, in any given instance, it may not be difficult, and even require extreme sacrifice, to abide by the negative duty.) It is incumbent upon one, regardless of where he may find himself, not to blaspheme, steal, cheat, kill or torture the innocent, rape, enslave, lie, or commit adultery. Both the untrained and the surgeon have a duty not to kill the person who is choking. Both the person with an inability to swim and the lifeguard have the duty not to drown someone. In contradistinction to positive duties, the failure to comply with a negative duty is always wrong, and is independent of circumstance.

The failure of consequentialism's ability to handle the distinction between act and omission and positive and negative duty is perhaps the biggest problem with consequentialist thinking. It leads to unrealistic moral impositions, practically impossible to fulfill without absurd sacrifice. The objection may be called the "demandingness objection." Oderberg, 133. The failure to fulfill these unrealistic and artificial obligations, which are entirely derived by measuring consequences without regard to whether an act or omission is involved or whether there is a positive duty or a negative duty at issue, leads to a false sense of guilt, and then ultimately leads to a kind of neurosis, both individual and social. If a consequentialist's charge is to maximize X, then if X is not maximized there is moral failure. The moral failure exists whether the failure to maximize X is the result of omission or commission, and the issues of positive duty or negative duty, of act or omission, of right are entirely irrelevant.

This often means that [the persons under a consequentialist ethos] are duty-bound to charitable causes, neglecting their health, their friends, even their family, and undertaking strenuous and even dangerous activity in order to maximize X anywhere in the world. . . . . [I]t turns out hat consequentialism makes demands that are so extreme they fly in the face of morality itself, and so make the theory self-defeating. The duty to maximize X . . . requires even the violation of the rights of others, and other duties in general, in order that the goal be achieved. It may be heroic to leave one's family in order to live a life of self-sacrifice among the poor; but family members have rights, and a person has a duty to provide for his family, or at least to see to it that they are provided for. It would not be an act of heroism to leave them to starve in one's quest to feed the starving, but an act of callous injustice.

Oderberg, 132-33. But that's just the thing: if it maximizes X, then any particularly callous injustice, any trampling of right, any obligations to his neighbor, is excused in the consequentialist's eye. So, not only have they imposed upon themselves unrealistic obligations--a fool's errand, as it were--, they have, at the same time, given themselves license to flout all rules to achieve their quixotic dream.

This is moral insanity, or at least a recipe for social neurosis. It seems that the consequentialism may be the impetus behind liberalism's well-documented neurosis.**

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*The example is Philippa Foot's, and is cited in Oderberg, 127-28.
**See, e.g., Lyle H. Rossiter, Jr., M.D., The Liberal Mind: The Psychological Causes of Political Madness (St. Charles: Free World Books, 2006).

Contra Consequentialismum: Act or Rule?

TWO MAIN RIVAL VERSIONS OF CONSEQUENTIALISM or utilitarianism are generally identified: rule consequentialism and act consequentialism. "Both are incompatible with rights, for overlapping but partly distinct reasons." Oderberg, 69. We shall devote this blog posting to discussing the distinction between act and rule consequentialism, and how neither version supports the concept of right.

The basic difference between act consequentialism and rule consequentialism might be said to be whether one is going to look at the consequentialist world and focus on trees or focus on copses, groves, or motts, or even forests. In analyzing an act's goodness, or at least its permissibility, the act consequentialist asks the question: is this act X-maximizing? The answer to that question will tell him whether the act is right or wrong, or permissible or impermissible. On the other hand, the rule consquentialist, trying to make up for deficiencies in act consequentialism, asks the question, not whether an individual act is X-maximizing, but whether the act conforms to a rule that, if followed, is X-maximizing. Some consequentialists go even further than rule consequentialists and talk about systems, which are a sort of cluster of rules.

This is the act,
That determined the rule,
That informs the system,
That makes the foundation
Of the house that Jack built.

Jack's house of rights, by the way, is built upon sand (cf. Matt.7:24-27).

The act consequentialist clearly cannot entertain the existence of any rights. Everything is negotiable in the quest of X-maximizing. Promises may be broken, people may be enslaved, mothers may be killed, adultery may be engaged in . . . anything may be permissible if its outcome is to maximize X. Confronted with the obvious distastefulness of such a conclusion, some consequentialists have come up with the theory of "prima facie" rights. In other words, rights that need to be factored into the X-maximizing equation. But these "prima facie" rights are not rights in sensu stricto, because they continue to be negotiable, and negotiability is counter to the notion of fundamental, natural, or human rights strictly so called, which are absolute or exceptionless. The "prima facie" rights of the consequentialist are, at best, quasi-rights, pseudo-rights, para-rights, rights pro tanto.*

Consequentialists are often keen to point out that they recognize one or other of traditional moral categories, such as rights or justice: but merely saying so does not make it so. It is necessary to be sensitive to the definition of the concept as used by the consequentialist. . . . So, if the consequentialists insists on speaking of rights, but defines them as just another thing to be placed into the melting pot of general calculation of whether an act is maximizes X, then whatever he is talking about, it will not be rights.

Oderberg, 70-71.

Rule and system consequentialists seem to have a better purchase on rights than act consequentialists, but this is a deceptive purchase. Because rule consequentialists generalize their analysis into rules, they can re-frame these into rights-based language.

A rule consequentialist will propose something like the idea that there are rights on his theory because an agent has a right to do whatever a given rule sanctions. . . . Typically, he will work backwards from duties not to interfere with actions of others: A has the duty not to do F to B if not doing F accords with a rule to which obedience is X-maximizing. From this he concludes that B has the right not to have F done to him.

Oderberg, 71.

The problem with this whole line of reasoning is in the rule. Since the right is based upon the rule, if the rule is questionable it follows that the right is questionable.

In crafting a rule, the rule consequentialist faces insurmountable problems. The first is perhaps the most notorious. How far into the future should the maximizing effects of a rule be calculated? Ad infinitum? If so, how can it be determined? If not, on what basis, and where is the arbitrary cut-off date where X-maximizing no longer matters? Second, the rule itself would be contingent because it would vary with the circumstances. What may be an X-maximizing rule in context A, may not be so in context B, and so what may be a right in context A may not be a right in context B. "Thus, whatever rights end up being recognized by the rule consequentialist, they are certainly not going to be the traditional ones." Oderberg, 72.

If the rule consequentialist tries to circumvent the contextual or conditional nature of rules by insisting that the X-maximizing rule must consider not only all existing but also all possible contexts, then a calculative nightmare imposes itself upon him: how on earth is man going to determine a rule when he has to consider not only all time, but all possible contexts? Besides, it is self-defeating because to X-maximize makes "maximization logically necessary," but X-maximization, by definition, means to maximize in context and not to maximize as an exercise in logic. And why should speculative contexts affect real contexts? More, if the rule is to be framed so as to recognize all possible contexts, how on earth is the rule going to be framed? Instead of the right to property, one will have such monstrosities as a "right-to-the-peaceful-use-and-enjoyment-of-one's-chattels-as-long-as-they-cannot-be-put-to-better-use-by-the-state-or-by-other-people-and-so-on-and-so-forth." Oderberg, 72. Yada, yada, yada.

Finally, if all contexts are considered, the rule consequentialist begins to look a whole lot like an act consequentialist, and so we have engaged in a sisyphean exercise, only to end up in the bottom again.

The Sisyphean Task of the Rule Consequentialist:
Punishment for His Hubris?

Some consequentialists are aware that their theories do not support rights as understood in any traditional sense, and, to their credit, try to accommodate or modify their theories to encompass them. To their debit, however, they not only fail to do what they set out to do, but fail to see that it's not by tinkering with a faulty theory that one fixes the problem.

Take for example the consequentialist who insists that respect for rights can be knitted into the fabric of consequentialist theory. (Oderberg cites the Hindu and atheist Economist and Noble prize winner Amartya Sen and the Scottish ethicist W. D. Ross as examples of those espousing this sort of theory.) But the theory infects the rule. It is sort of like expecting a drop of water put in a gallon of gasoline to make the gasoline potable. The problem is that, injected into the theory, the respect for rights itself becomes a consequence to be maximized. The result is that an act that, of itself, respects rights, would be considered morally objectionable, to the extent that it does not maximize respect for that right in general. So if not killing one's mother (which respects the mother's right to life) would fail to maximize the respect for that right in general (suppose an unruly mob that insists that, unless the actor kills his own mother, mayhem will ensue, which would include killing of a number of mothers), the actor would be forced to maximize the right of a number of mothers, at the expense of the right of his own mother. One right, then, become negotiable, if for no other reason, when other rights of the same kind can be maximized. These consequentialists wearing "rights" garb, then are no more lambs than a wolf wearing sheep's clothing. For all their talk about rights, their notion of right is infected by their consequentialist cancer, and there will never be such a thing as an exceptionless or absolute right. Rights can be violated so long as their violation results in the maximization of a greater number of rights, which means that the consequentialist's rights are not rights.

Beware of the Consequentialist Wearing Rights Language!

To solve the problem regarding rights, the consequentialist needs to jettison his defective theory altogether, and start afresh. He needs to quit clothing his defective theory with the language of rights. Perhaps he ought to adopt a theory based upon the natural law, a theory ever ancient, ever new?

Perhaps, following St. Augustine, our consequentialist ought to open the Book of Romans, and reflect on Romans 13:13-14. (Can he hear the divine voice, tolle, lege, tolle, lege, "take and read," "take and read"?):

Let us walk honestly, as in the day: not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and impurities, not in contention and envy: But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh in its concupiscences.

Then perhaps we may hope, that with a little bit of grace and a little bit of good will, the Lord Jesus Christ can introduce the consequentialist to His law, which is also the law within the consequentialist. And the consequentialist may leave his vain pretensions, see what his heart is yearning for, and cry à la St. Augustine: Sero te amavi, lex naturalis tam antiqua et tam nova. Too late have I love you, natural law, ever ancient, ever new!

For every moment spent as a consequentialist is a moment too much.

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*"Pro tanto" is Latin phrase meaning "for so much, for as much as one is able, as far as it can go." "Prima facie" is Latin for at first appearance, at first blush, at first sight. The former implies limit, the second implies rebutability. Neither prima facie rights or rights pro tanto are the sorts of traditional exceptionless, absolute human rights that others may not violate at all times and in all circumstances without incurring moral guilt. The Commandment, "Thou shalt not kill," is exceptionless, not a prima facie commandment, or a commandment pro tanto.

Contra Consquentialismum: Freedom and Responsibility

FREEDOM IS PRESUPPOSED BY MORALITY, as there cannot be any real good and evil, or certainly not any right or wrong, if the person acting is not free, if everything is determined. The concept of freedom is, however, frequently misunderstood. Freedom is not a power for choosing evil, and it is not a fundamental feature of freedom that the existence of evil follows from it. "[T]he fact that people choose [evil] is not be be admired as proof of human freedom." God, we may remember, is supremely free . . . and supremely good. The power to do evil is, at best, a "sign of freedom, but only in the sense in which disease is a sign of life." Oderberg, MT, 28. There is no decrease of freedom if people were only to choose good, any more than there would be a decrease in mathematical thinking if our mathematicians were always right. There is no increase of freedom because people do evil, any more than we advance mathematically when a larger portion of mathematicians get things wrong.

Further, in understanding freedom, a distinction ought to be made between physical and psychological (or even legal) freedom and moral freedom. It is obvious that we are "free" physically, psychologically, and even legally (in this country, to its everlasting shame) to kill an unborn fetus; however, we are in no regard morally free to do so since it is an inexcusable violation of the absolute right of life of the child. Moral freedom is a "species of rational freedom," and "one is ever morally free to do the right thing," and only the right thing. There is no moral freedom to do the wrong thing, only physical, psychological, or, depending on the positive law, legal freedom. But these latter "freedoms" are not freedom plain and simple.

Freedom's Often Misunderstood

Human moral freedom is influenced by a number of factors, individual (age, temperament, talent, etc.) and social (upbringing, the surrounding culture, fashions, public opinion, prevailing ideology, etc.). Freedom is also affected by prior choice.* Regardless of these influences--and they can have great effect on us--they do not fundamentally rob us of free will.

"That a person is essentially a free agent means that he is responsible for his actions; he answers (responds) for them . . . a person's actions are imputable to him." Oderberg, MT, 30. This, of course, means that a person is "liable to reward or punishment," sanction or desert, depending upon his actions.

Two essential components are required for a free act to subject us to moral responsibility: knowledge and voluntariness. Knowledge and voluntariness are the sine qua nons of moral freedom and responsibility in the exercise of that freedom.

A person is responsible for his action if and only if it is done knowingly and voluntarily; the complete absence of either or both of these elements destroys freedom and hence responsibility. A partial lack of either or both lessens or diminishes responsibility, but does not destroy it.

Oderberg, MT, 30.

Knowledge is the foundation of intention. "As Aristotle pointed out, one does not will what one does not know." Oderberg, 30.

The voluntariness need not be "presently occurring," it can be "virtual." We can make a choice, that, as it were, we carry with us throughout the day, though it may not be actively present with us at the time of the act, but it informs the act and gives it a moral character. "In such a case, we might call the intention or choice virtual, since the power (or virtue)" of the initial resolution lasts throughout the entire day until revoked or changed. If sufficiently repeated, such a virtual power can become habitual. "The habitual intention is, as it were, worn like a forgotten piece of jewelery, and is a sign of a certain attitude of mind." If the habitual intention relates to moral matters and to good, we call it a virtue. If the habitual intention relates to moral matters and to evil, we call it vice.

Both knowledge and voluntariness are not discrete categories. We are not dealing with either absolute knowledge or voluntariness (for there to be freedom, and hence an act to be praiseworthy or blameworthy) versus total absence of knowledge of voluntariness (for there to be total destruction of freedom, and hence no responsibility). There are shades of knowledge and shades of voluntariness. Both external (violence) and internal factors (extreme fear or other passion) and habit (good or bad) can affect these, and mitigate moral blame to a greater or lesser degree. "Thus moral praise and blame are not all-or-nothing matters--they are matters of degree." Oderberg, 31. Acts may be intentional, reckless, negligent, inadvertent, in absolute ignorance, and anything in between, and the external and internal factors that can affect them are myriad.** It becomes clear, therefore, that "morality is not just about individual actions, but about the character of the person who acts." Oderberg, 33.

The fact that blameworthiness or praiseworthiness is subject to degrees does not mean "that boundaries of right and wrong are somehow blurred and confused. It does not mean there are no clear limits that, if crossed, make the agent guilty of a wrong act pure and simple." Oderberg, 33. "In morality, then, there are certain base levels of conduct that make certain actions right or wrong whatever the circumstances."*** Oderberg, 33.

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*A particularly poignant and extreme example of how prior choice may rob us of moral freedom arises from in vitro fertilization where, to improve success, multiple embryos are conceived in vitro and then some preserved by cryopreservation (freezing). These human beings, "orphans" held in animated state, in a limbo of man's own making, are forgotten by their parents and society. There is no way morally to dispose of this problem. We have painted ourselves in a moral corner; it is an insoluble dilemma. This is an instance where we have no moral freedom (other than do nothing) because of our prior evil choices: "All things considered, it needs to be recognized that the thousands of abandoned embryos represent a situation of injustice which in fact cannot be resolved. Therefore John Paul II made an “appeal to the conscience of the world’s scientific authorities and in particular to doctors, that the production of human embryos be halted, taking into account that there seems to be no morally licit solution regarding the human destiny of the thousands and thousands of ‘frozen’ embryos which are and remain the subjects of essential rights and should therefore be protected by law as human persons”. Dignitatis personae, no. 19 (Instruction on Certain Bioethical Question, Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith). What kind of society would put itself in such a moral quandary? What kind of society would turn a deaf ear to the Pope's plea?
**Though unmentioned by Oderberg, classical moral theology distinguishes between: (i) human acts, that is, deliberate free acts, acts with requisite knowledge and voluntariness, and acts of man, that is, acts performed either without sufficient deliberation, or lacking knowledge or free will. The latter category includes unconscious acts, involuntary acts, semi-deliberate acts (e.g., acts done while half asleep and in a state or torpor), and spontaneous acts done on impulse without reflection.
***Oderberg gives as examples murder, manslaughter, rape, child abuse, fraud. Oderberg, 33.

Contra Consequentialismum: Relativism's Unrelative

RELATIVISM IS THE MOST COMMON FORM of moral skepticism about us. Personal relativism insists that there is no such thing as moral truths that extend beyond what is true for the individual. Since morality is a matter of individual opinion, of sentiment, then morality is subjective, about feeling, at best. Relativism also comes in other forms. For example, it can extend beyond personal relativism to cultural or social relativism, providing that morality is a cultural or social norm, and not necessarily a personal norm. But in whatever form it may be found, individualistic or socialistic, fundamentally all forms of relativism share "the central dogma that moral propositions, instead of having objective truth--truth for all people in all places at all times--are true relative to one standard but not another." Oderberg, MT, 16. In other words, relativists are relative or standardless about all things but one, the relativism of relativism. Relativism is, for them, the only thing unrelative. The relativist believes in no absolute dogma but one: all morality is relative. It would seem that relativism is inconsistent with itself ab initio, from its foundation.

And so it it is.

The foundational inconsistency of the relativists ethic shows up in the conundrums they are easily forced into. For example: If all morality is relative, subjective, personal, it follows that that morality ought not to be imposed upon anyone else. In other words, there is no warrant for me to force my views upon you, and you to force your views upon me. Tolerance, therefore, is the mandatum novum, the new commandment for the relativist. But isn't this prime virtue of relativism, tolerance, then, following relativism's own assumption that all is relative, subjective, a matter of opinion? What, then, of the man whose personal belief is that tolerance is wrong, that he has the right to impose his belief system on whomever he sees fit, by physical or legal coercion, even torture and violence if necessary? (Folks like this aren't too hard to find: look at the ranks of Al Qaida or the advocates of homosexual marriage. These folks insist we should see things their way and use rather forceful means to insist.) Must the relativist be tolerant of the intolerant? To be consistent with his principles, the relativist must be tolerant of the intolerant. This is then a collapse into a moral nihilism, as it will allow for anything. Am I to be tolerant of a pedophile who believes that pedophilia is the only proper expression of human sexuality, and that he has the right to indoctrinate children to his manner of thinking? Most relativists will not extend their dogma so far.

If the relativist, however, decides to be intolerant of the intolerant, then the relativist has violated his own principle. Against his central tenet, he has adopted an objective, absolute, exceptionless truth which requires him to adopt an objective moral law: intolerance is exceptionlessly, absolutely evil. On what basis do they found this? The relativist remains mum to the question. There is no basis, given the relativist's assumptions, to justify the dogmatic assumption of this one, exceptional principle. As W. V. Quine, the American analytic philosopher and himself a philosophical relativist, has conceded in the context of cultural relativism: "He [the cultural relativist] cannot proclaim cultural relativism without rising above it, and he cannot rise above it without giving it up." Oderberg, MT, 20 (quoting W. V. Quine, "On Empirically Equivalent Systems in the Word," Erkenntnis 9 (1975), 328-28).

Two other ethical theories reject the objective nature of the ethical realm. For these two schools of thought, the "world of ought" does not exist, and so they are foundationally skeptical like the relativist. The first such theory is expressivism or emotivism. This theory of morality also hales from Hume, who in his Treatise on Human Nature (III.I.II) concluded: "Morality, therefore, is more properly felt than judged of." This thought was taken and ran with under the name emotivism by the likes of Ogden and Richards, A. J. Ayer, and C. L. Stevenson. The central core of these school of thought is that moral precepts are not really moral precepts at all, and certainly not descriptive of a fact of the moral realm, but rather expressions of deeply felt feelings of repugnance or attraction. So the statement, "Child abuse is wrong," is really nothing other than an expression of "Down with child abuse!" Affirmatively, the statement, "Promises ought to be kept," is really nothing but "Up with promise-keeping!" Oderberg, MT, 23. Moral statements are really nothing more than sophisticated "grunts and groans" of emotional satisfaction or dissatisfaction. Morality is nothing other than discussion about boos and discussion about hurrahs, and so it may also be regarded as the "Boo-Hurrah" moral theory.

Prescriptivism, another moral theory that denies the factual reality of the moral realm, promotes moral statements from "grunts and groans" to mere prescriptions, that is, to imperatives or commands. A prescriptivist would therefore take the statement "Child abuse is wrong" to mean "Do not be a child abuser," and the statement, "Promises ought to be kept," as "Do keep your promises." In other words, moral oughts are really nothing other than efforts than one person trying to command another person, but have no real objective foundation.

The problem with such theories as emotivism and prescriptivism is that they run afoul of how men think, and how they use moral statements, and so are not satisfactory theories of the moral life of man.* We naturally use moral statements as the basis for reasoning. If moral statements were, in fact merely statements of emotion or statements of command disguised in other form, we would not be able to use them this way.

Both expressivism and prescriptivism equate the assertion of a moral proposition with something other than the statement of a fact: in one case an expression of emotion, in the other a command. However, one can do more with moral propositions than assert them: one can use them in the context of other more complex propositions, so the moral proposition that is a component of the more complex one is not asserted at all.

Oderberg, MT, 24. In other words, we use moral statements in a manner that is inconsistent with them being expressions of emotion or statements of command. We use them as statements of moral fact.

So, for example, from the moral statement "Prostitution is wrong," I can also say, "If Prostitution is wrong, then so is living off the earnings of prostitution." Using a form of syllogistic reason,** I can then reason that since Prostitution is wrong it necessarily follows that it is wrong to live of its earnings. Such reasoning cannot take place if the statement "Prostitution is wrong" is an expression or emotion or of command because it queers the syllogism.*** The term "Prostitution is wrong" must mean the same thing in the statement "Prostitution is wrong" as it does in the second statement "If Prostitution is wrong, then . . . ." or we have a fallacy.

Under the expressivist view, the first statement ("Prostitution is wrong") is nothing other than the statement "Down with Prostitution!" So the syllogism becomes: "Down with Prostitution!" If "Down with prostitution!" then "Down with living off its earnings!" Therefore, "Down with living of the earnings of prostitution!" In the prescriptivist view, the first statement ("Prostitution is wrong") is equivalent to "Do not be a prostitute." So the syllogism becomes "Do not be a prostitute." If "Do not be a prostitute," then "Do not live of its earnings." Therefore, "Do not live off the earnings of prostitution."

But the statements: "If 'Down with prostitution!' then 'Down with living off its earnings!'" and "If 'Do not be a prostitute' then 'Do not live off the earnings of prostitution'" are meaningless. So: (i) either they are wrong about moral statements being mere statements of emotion or statements of command (in which case they are wrong), or (ii) they are right about moral statements being nothing other than statements of emotion or statements of command, in which case any moral reasoning is made meaningless an nonsensical (because you can't take a command or expression of emotion and make and "if . . . then . . . " statement out of it) (which means they are wrong), or (iii) they use terms equivocally (to avoid the problems associated with "if . . . then . . . statements) and are guilty of the fallacy of equivocation (in which case they are wrong). Quartum non datur. No matter what, the result is "expressivism and prescriptivism are false." Oderberg, 25.

The fact is that, in reasoning about things in the realm of action, we use moral statements as if they were statements of fact related to a moral realm. We do not use moral statements as if they were in reality mere statements of command or expressions of emotions likes and dislikes. The emotivist and the prescriptivist simply do not describe what really happens among men. They fail to explain reality, and, in Oderberg's view "'ditch' reality." Oderberg, 26.

The fact is, man uses moral statements in a manner, not as expressions of command or feeling, but as statements of fact, as indicative statements. They are stated as if they are "being asserted as true or false," they are expressed in a manner where they can be "agreed or disagreed with," they are used "as premises in arguments."

[A moral statement] has the same indicative or fact-stating form as 'Grass is green.' As such, it can serve as a free-standing premise in an argument, such as the first premise [in a syllogism], as well as being embedded within a compound proposition, such as the 'if . . . then . . . ' proposition which [may be] the second premise of . . . [an] argument. . . . It is these arguments that we perfectly well understand, and which we assess for validity . . . , but which, if prescriptivism or expressivism were true, would turn out to be incomprehensible at worst, or implausibly have to be deemed invalid at best.

Oderberg, 25-26. But the prescriptivist and emotivist or expressivist do more than screw with, or misinterpret, moral reasoning, that is moral syllogistic reasoning. They also denude moral statements, restrict them, really dehumanize them. Man is fundamentally moral, and to wrest his moral utterances from a factual moral realm, in which he lives and moves and has his being, and put them into the realm of mere emotion or command, is to dehumanize him. "Moral propositions are not always asserted: they are embedded in unasserted contexts like 'if . . then . . . ' statements, but they are also assumed, wondered about, entertained, and the like. In all such contexts, treating them as commands or expressions produces nonsense." Oderberg, MT, 26-27.

Oderberg is clear. It is not that command or emotion have no role in moral reasoning or moral reality. Moral propositions--which are propositions of moral fact--can be used, and frequently are found, in commands. They can be formulated into law. Violation of moral propositions can also elicit disgust, disdain, anger, sorrow. But the real world of morality is not in command and not in emotion, the real world behind command and emotion is what the emotivist and the prescriptivist miss.

Expressivism and prescriptivism err by reversing the true order of explanation: it is the truth and falsehood of moral statements that justify the having of certain emotional responses and the issuing of commands.

Oderberg, MT, 27. The moral reality justifies the command and the emotion. And not vice versa. It is not the command and the emotion that justify the moral reality. The moral reality exists irrespective of command (command can err: laws can be unjust or vicious). The moral reality exists irrespective of emotion ("If it feels good, do it!" is a moral abomination).
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*Oderberg attributes this argument to Peter Geach, who derived it from the German philosopher Gottlob Frege. Oderberg cites to two of Geach's papers: "Ascriptivism," Philosophical Review 69 (1960), pp. 221-5, reprinted in Peter Geach, Logic Matters (Oxford: Blackwell, 1972), 250-54, and "Assertion," Philosophical Review 74 (1965), pp. 449-65.
**modus ponens: If A, then B; A; therefore, B.
***It results in the fallacy called the "fallacy of equivocation." In other words it ascribes the same meaning to an expression in two propositions that in fact mean two different things.

Contra Consequentialismum: Skeptical of Skepticism

SKEPTICISM ABOUT THE OBJECTIVE NATURE of good and evil, right and wrong--moral skepticism--runs rampant in the Western world. Advance the notion of objective right and wrong in any conversation, or insist on an absolute exceptionless rule, and people become unsettled, and they tune you off, even ridicule you as an obscurantist, since such a position seems to be contrary to the primary virtues of the day: open-mindedness, tolerance, pluralism, relativism. But moral theory--which concerns itself with right and wrong--would be a poor science indeed (and it claims to be a science, though obviously not an empirical or experimental science such as chemistry or sociology) if its subject matter--moral right and wrong--were so amorphous and shapeless, so unbased upon reality, as to have no objective, intelligible substance; or if its method, teachings, and expression were irreparably and fundamentally nothing but an expression of the proponent's subjective opinion. If morality is like poetry or like painting, then it is not a science, and it yields not knowledge, but is an art at best. If morality is based upon nothing else but subjective feeling, then it is analogous to the Eucharist being just a symbol, and not the Real Presence of Christ. "Well, if it’s a symbol, to hell with it," the writer Flannery O'Connor famously said. And if morality is not based upon objective reality, if there really is not an objective, real moral world, a moral realm "out there" or "within us," then to hell with morality! That's, of course, what relativists and moral skeptics basically say.

As an applied science, moral knowledge (not necessarily behavior) ought to progress or converge upon truth, advancing from relative ignorance, and there ought to be significant agreement among its adepts as to proper teaching. If it doesn't move towards greater knowledge and agreement, then its lack of progress or the lack of agreement ought to be able to be explained. That people generally disbelieve that moral knowledge has progressed or converges upon truths and its advocates have reached consensus is the result of a prevailing spirit of moral skepticism.

Moral skepticism denies the existence of objective right and wrong--which necessarily means it advances moral relativism: all moral thought is relative, there is no one single truth on the matter that all must hold with regard to the good and the right. Wrested away from modern biases, or perhaps better, ideologies, however, the case for an objective moral reality is very strong. And the case against moral skepticism is unanswerable, since, from an intellectual point of view, moral skepticism is intellectually baseless.* In other words, modernly, we have put ourselves in the shade of skepticism, and so are unable to appreciate the light of objective moral truths. Moderns are blinded by irrational bias; they are diseased with the cancer of skepticism and have made the foolish diagnosis that the cancer is the healthy tissue, and the healthy tissue is diseased.

Though moral knowledge is objectively-based, true knowledge, it would be wrong to expect it to be as precise as, geometry or chemistry. A "crucial point, one made by Aristotle" long ago, must be kept in mind by us moderns: "every science is only as precise as its subject matter allows." Oderberg, MT, 3. Moral theory, by its very nature, is therefore inexact, often, though not always, dealing with probable or approximate answers.** But being inexact is not equivalent to being unknowable. We ought not be misled by the inexactitude of moral knowledge:

There is an essential element of inexactitude in moral theory, corresponding to the elusiveness and unfathomability of man of the predicaments people find themselves in. It stems also from the mysterious depths of the human soul, with its often dimly understood thicket of motivations, desires, beliefs, and emotions. . . . The moral theories should minimize these where possible, but they cannot be eliminated and should indeed be welcomed as indicators that morality is about people, not machines.

Oderberg, MT, 4. Moral knowledge is also hampered by social influences, personal desires, prevailing ideology, in ways that the empirical sciences are not (though empirical sciences are not absolutely immune from these influences either).*** Moral knowledge, then, is knowledge about what is right and wrong, good and evil. It is applied or practical knowledge, that is, it tells us how we should act to do right and advance the good, to avoid doing wrong and so shun evil. It informs us how to be good humans. If one is a moral "realist," then morality is "real," and there is a "moral realm" which is real, true, objective, intelligible, and binding upon us.

David Hume, Empirical Philosopher and Advocate of the "Natural Fallacy"

The modern penchant toward rejecting moral realism and instead adopting a moral skepticism is largely the result of the "empiricist tradition in philosophy." Oderberg, MT, 9. One of the most significant sources of modern moral skepticism is the critique of moral knowledge resulting from the fact-value distinction (also called the naturalistic fallacy, "is/ought" distinction, or Hume's guillotine).

The distinction finds its classic statement in the philosophy of David Hume: He famously remarked: 'In every system of morality, which I have hitherto met with, I have always remarked that the author . . . makes observations concerning human affairs; when of a sudden I am surprised to find, that instead of the usual . . . propositions, is, and is not, I meet with no proposition that is not connected with an ought, or an ought not.'

Oderberg, MT, 9 (quoting Hume's Treatise on Human Nature, III.I.I). The fact-value distinction states that it is logically wrong to jump from fact (is) to obligation or value (ought). Since moral matters involve obligations and duties (oughts and ought nots), they cannot be based on fact. (ises or is nots). And so they must be based upon something else, choose your poison: perhaps feeling, tastes, emotions, in any event, something other than fact. Since facts are the only objective reality (and the only basis for sciences, narrowly understood empirically) it follows, Hume insists, that morality is not about objective reality. So teaches Hume, and the whole Western world seemed to have swallowed Hume's pill. Ingemuit totus orbis, et Humeanum se esse miratus est. The modern world groaned and has found itself Humean. Has swallowing Hume's pill been wise or foolish?

Foolish. Foolish because the advocates of the fact-value distinction have put themselves on the horns of a dilemma which reflects the absurdity of their main philosophical tenet regarding the moral world. The dilemma comes from their understanding of "fact." They have to define "fact" to exclude "ethical facts," but in doing so they simply beg the question, that is, avoid the confrontation of the "ethical realist"** who insists that there are such things as "ethical facts." So how can they argue with the ethical realist to prove that the Humean position that all there are is empirical fact is the assumption to make? "If the skeptic about moral facts wants to use the notion of a fact to cast doubt on [moral] realism, then, he must not rely on a conception that the moral realist does not share in the first place." There are no givens shared by the Humeans and the non-Humeans from which argument between them can be based. So where does the Humean go to establish his argument?

Humeans in fact, are doom to fail based upon their presuppositions. There is no empirical "fact" that exists to which the Humeans can point to that "ethical facts" do not exist. Where, in the concrete reality they say is the entirety of reality, is the fact that says there is no such thing as an ethical realm? To argue that empirical facts are the entirety of reality, and that moral or ethical facts are not facts, the Humeans must leave the empirical world of empirical facts, thus disproving their insistence that all there are are empirical facts. The Humeans, in other words, are in the predicament of having to prove (from empirical fact alone) the proposition that "one ought not to believe in ethical facts, but only in empirical facts," but to argue such a proposition they violate their basic assumption by having to depart the world of empirical facts. In other words, there is no way for them to prove, given their assumptions, that there are no such things as "ethical facts." They can only endeavor to prove their assumption by violating it. Their fundamental oughtness that all there is is isness cannot be proved from the fundamental assumption that all there is is isness. Hence their dilemma.

Empirically, Reason Why One Gives Alms Doesn't Exist

There is, however, more. The Humean assumption that only empirical facts exist poses real problems, as it excludes a whole demimonde of facts we routinely accept as description of reality. "[T]he distinction [between fact and value] does imply an unbridgeable conceptual gap between facts and values--but the cost of forging it, for the Humean, is that he loses his grip on reality." Oderberg, MT, 13. In his insistence on empirical reality, the Humean loses out on the reality of things like human intent, or human assessment. The Humean, sort of like Oedipus but for less noble reasons, blinds himself, gouges out his eyes, and then suggests he sees better than the rest of folks. He is Aesop's fox without a tail, arguing to his fellows that tails are cumbersome extremities. Therefore, Hume can empirically equate the sapling growing up and overtaking its parent tree robbing it of the sun, to a son being ungrateful or even a son killing his father. For a Humean, the "relations are the same." Both descriptions of the event, from an empirical point of view, are identical in the Humean world looked at with gouged-out eyes. Empiricism cannot distinguish the obvious difference between the two. The Humean cannot distinguish between the man who gives alms in charity and the man who gives alms in vanity: empirically, they are both doing the same thing: putting money in the poor box. The Humean world clearly involves "a radically impoverished apprehension of reality; not [only] an impoverished conception of morality, but of what exactly is going on." Oderberg, MT, 14. It is a Humean trait to describe abortion as the "termination of pregnancy," instead of murder. It is a Humean trait to describe lies as "misstatements" or being "economical with the truth." The world of reality extends far beyond the Humean world of empirical fact:

With a more complete appreciation of reality, there will still be a distinction between facts and values; there will still be a way of describing the world that only pays attention, say, to microphysics, to chemistry, to the movements of particles, to the interaction of objects, to pure cause an effect, and so on. But these descriptions will only capture a segment of reality, one which has a definite but limited place in ethical theory.

Oderberg, MT, 15. In other words, the moral realist can accept empiricism while yet recognizing that there is an entire reality outside of it; the moral realist can see (he has not gouged out his intellectual eyes like the Humean Oedipus, though he may see enough figuratively to pluck one of his eyes out so that he does not get cast into Hell if that eye causes him to sin, cf. Matt. 5:29; 18:9; Mark 9:47). The moral realists can see that empiricism, while valuable in its sphere, fails to describe the entirety of reality. Empiricism can only describe a part, a small part, and perhaps the least important part of the cosmos. It is wholly blind to the pearls of great price which are seen in the moral realm.
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*Since true philosophical and moral knowledge (e.g., the existence of God, the existence of objective moral truth) is based upon certain self-evident principles, which cannot be certainly proved, as by definition self-evident principles cannot be proved; however, with enough patience and effort, any thought that rejects such self-evident principles can be shown to be certainly false, baseless, or lead to absurdity.
**Hence the fight among probabilists, probabliorists, and equiprobabilists.
***See Mark Walker, ed., Science and Ideology: A Comparative History (New York: Routledge, 2003).

Contra Consequentialismum: Introduction

IN THIS NEXT SERIES OF BLOG POSTINGS, we shall look at the moral theory of consquentialism or utilitarianism, a teleological ethic which probably, in its various varietals, is the ascendant, prevailing moral theory in the West. Consequentialism is a theory of morality that is at odds with the natural law and with virtue-based ethics.* Its only viable competitor in the secular world is perhaps some sort of Kantianism or deontological (duty-based) ethic, although the natural law and virtue-based ethics are making a sort of comeback perhaps because of the felt inadequacies of the other theories. Consequentialism or utilitarianism finds its modern beginnings in the thought of the likes of James Mill (1773–1836), Jeremy Bentham (1748-1832), and John Stuart Mill (1806-1873). Though the consequentialist moral theory has roots in the early 19th century, it has developed from its primitive beginnings as a result of attacks from its critics, and is alive and well and finds such modern exponents even propagandists such as the Australian moral philosopher and animal rights activist Peter Singer (1946 - )

In writing this series, we will be relying heavily on the two works of David S. Oderberg, Moral Theory: A Non-Consequentialist Approach"The doctrine of the sanctity of human life has come under merciless attack in recent years, and is the first principle that most applied ethicists seek to undermine. Without it, there is no traditional morality."
--David S. Oderberg and its companion volume, Applied Ethics: A Non-Consequentialist Approach.*

David Oderberg, an Australian with a PhD from Oxford, is Professor of Philosophy at the University of Reading, in the United Kingdom. He is the author of a number of articles regarding metaphysics, ethics, philosophical logic and other subjects. His metaphysics is Aristotelian, and his morality is based upon traditional concepts of natural law.

Professor Oderberg realizes that, contemporaneously, his is the minority report, but he also realizes that, viewed historically, his is the theory with the better pedigree. Viewed historically, the consequentialist theory, and the moral skepticism and relativism and rejection of human nature as a standard that comes with it, is a moral upstart, a moral parvenu, the new kid on the block. Neither of these facts, or course, establish the veracity or lack of veracity of either theory, but the fact that the traditional morality has been held by so many for so long gives one some psychological assurance that perhaps there is more to it than meets the eyes of moderns who scoff at it and its supporters.

David S. Oderberg, Professor of Philosophy at Reading University

[E]ven if the bulk of moral philosophers find the conclusions I reach unpalatable, disagreeable, absurd, anachronistic, barbaric, bizarre, or just plain wrong, I console myself with the following thought: that every single one of the major positions I defend was believed by the vast majority of human beings in Western society for thousands of years, right up until some time in the 1960s, when the Western Cultural Revolution took place. (I do not speak of the non-Western societies, which even today subscribe to most or all of the views defended here.)

Oderberg, MT, viii. We shall follow the structure of Oderberg's Moral Theory. He first addresses the issue of skepticism and the skeptical prejudices that color, or perhaps better blind, the majority of men in Western societies, and which makes them believe that morality is purely subjective and without objective basis. Then he addresses the principal foundations of traditional morality. Following that, he addresses some of principles of the rival schools, specifically contractualism and consequentialism. Finally, he focuses on the moral principle of the sanctity of human life, a principle that "has come under merciless attack in recent years, and is the first principle that most applied ethicists seek to undermine. Without it, there is no traditional morality." Oderberg, MT, x.

These works of Oderberg are unapologetically anti-consequentialist. In his words, they "concentrate on [consquentialism's] incompatibility with the basic demands of rights and of justice (due primarily to its 'maximising' and calculative nature), and hence its fundamentally inhuman character." Oderberg, MT, x. His arguments for traditional morality and against consequentialism are based upon reason alone. In fact, it is impossible for me to tell from these two works alone, what his religious confession is, or if he even has one.*** While his positions are largely consistent with the moral doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church, they seem to be based on, or at least argued from, foundations that are entirely areligious, principally upon Aristotelian principles.

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*In fact, not only is it unreasonable, as we will endeavor to argue, it is unfaithful to the Church's teaching. It has reared its ugly face in modified form in Catholic circles under the name "Proportionalism." Cf. Pope John Paul II, Veritatis splendor, Nos. 75-76: ". . . This "teleologism", as a method for discovering the moral norm, can thus be called--according to terminology and approaches imported from different currents of thought--"consequentialism" or "proportionalism". The former claims to draw the criteria of the rightness of a given way of acting solely from a calculation of foreseeable consequences deriving from a given choice. The latter, by weighing the various values and goods being sought, focuses rather on the proportion acknowledged between the good and bad effects of that choice, with a view to the 'greater good' or 'lesser evil' actually possible in a particular situation. The teleological ethical theories (proportionalism, consequentialism), while acknowledging that moral values are indicated by reason and by Revelation, maintain that it is never possible to formulate an absolute prohibition of particular kinds of behaviour which would be in conflict, in every circumstance and in every culture, with those values. . . . Even when grave matter is concerned, these precepts should be considered as operative norms which are always relative and open to exceptions. . . . These theories can gain a certain persuasive force from their affinity to the scientific mentality, which is rightly concerned with ordering technical and economic activities on the basis of a calculation of resources and profits, procedures and their effects. . . . Such theories however are not faithful to the Church's teaching, when they believe they can justify, as morally good, deliberate choices of kinds of behavior contrary to the commandments of the divine and natural law. These theories cannot claim to be grounded in the Catholic moral tradition." [N.B. The "teologism" referred to by John Paul II should not be confused with the teleology that is part and parcel of the traditional natural law doctrine. The "teologism" here refers to the end or consequences of the act as the determinant of its morality, whereas the teology in the natural law theory refers to the final end or intrinsic end of a nature.]
**David S. Oderberg, Moral Theory: A Non-Consquentialist Approach (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 2000) (herein "MT") and Applied Ethics: A Non-Consequentialist Approach(Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 2000) (herein "AE").
***The only clue is in the selection of cover art, The Adoration of the Magi (by Fra Angelico and Filippo Lippi) for MT and The Massacre of the Innocents (by Fran Angelico) for AE.