Thursday, February 21, 2008

Consequences and Morality

I've been thinking about ethics lately, on the relation between the ought-ness of moral statements and the consequences of actions. So, I have a thought experiment here in three stages, and I'm interested in hearing people's opinions on the matter.

First, let us imagine a world in which action F is right and action G is wrong. Maybe we can say that God willed that we do F and nilled G, or maybe it's just there. At any rate, let's say that there are two agents, X and Y, where X does F and Y does G. Now, both X and Y approach these actions with the same attitudes (they both intend to do right, and if these actions are willed to be done by God, then they both intend to fulfill God's will), and there will be no different consequences either in this life or the next for either X or Y. Is it still meaningful to say that F was right, and G wrong?

For the second stage, let's say that X does F, and Y G; God will condemn Y to Hell (or annihilate Y; take your pick) while X gains an eternal reward. However, actions F and G result in the same consequences here in this life (again, assuming that X and Y approach them with the same attitude and all). Can we really say that F is a right action? I guess this is asking whether God would be just in condemning Y for doing G, even though no temporal effects would have distinguished G from F.

Finally, let's say that F and G do differ in consequences, where G produces some good while F does not. In this case, would it be meaningful to say that F is right and G is wrong? If not-F would produce good, would it be meaningful simply to mandate F and anathametize not-F? How about if not-F were as neutral/bad as F? Let us say that this good that G and not-F produces comes from the character of the action (and similarly, the lack of good from F), rather than from accidental circumstances.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

On Cars

Currently reading:
Hareíos Potêr kaì hē toû philosóphou líthos
   by J. K. Rowling (tr. Andrew Wilson)
Cattus Petasatus
   by Doctore Seuss (tr. Jennifer & Terence Tunberg)

This week has been . . . interesting. On the lighter note, I now have the reading material listed above (Cattus Petasatus was the book behind the quote a couple of posts ago). The kids' foreign language section at Borders is actually an interesting place to go for Latin books.

In other news, it seems like this was the week for car troubles (I seem to be learning similar lessons about potholes, Scott). This Wednesday, I was driving my wife's car to school and tutoring. As luck would have it, everything went swimmingly until I got back to the apartment complex - and hit a pothole coming in. Dead on, hidden within the slush and shadows, even at 5-10 miles an hour I got a flat. Needless to say, Joy was not happy. We do now have experience in changing tires, however.

For most of the trip in her car, though, I was impressed by all of its modern conveniences, even in the midst of the snowstorm and 9 inches that we got. Conveniences such as heat, or windshield wiper blades that clear off the windshield in front of your eyes, or directional turn signals that work so that you don't have to look for cops every time you turn and make manual signals in icy cold weather, or an engine that doesn't decide to be picky about starting. Of course, this all brings up the question of why I was driving Joy's car, now, doesn't it?

I am sorry to say that, on Monday the 4th, Shadow Snail-Mail went to sleep and never woke up. Never quite as quick as a fax, ol' Snail-Mail kept chugging along until his last days. There are currently signs of electrical activity, but the engine is done gone for, and any possible repairs would most likely cost a grand or two to extend his misery for a couple more months. RIP, Snail-Mail.

So, later this week my new car should be coming in. We went with a Hyundai Accent, minus any bells and whistles. For that reason, I get to learn to drive a stickshift. I'll probably post something about how that's coming along in a week or so....

Saturday, February 02, 2008

Christian A-Gnosticism

Before I say anything, I perhaps should clarify the title. I don't mean to continue the project of deconstructionists such as Derrida or Caputo; rather, I am concerned with how Christianity can avoid becoming a form of gnosticism. Basically, gnosticism as well as considerable strains in Asian religions (Buddhism, and much of Hinduism) consider ignorance to be our main problem, and so to fix our problem we need a piece of knowledge. Now, how can Christianity avoid this pitfall?

The first thing I'll most likely hear is that Christianity posits sin as our chief problem, and faith in the work of Jesus Christ as the solution. However, this faith has a cognitive content, which brings back the problem. One can talk about "faith in a person" rather than "faith in a proposition" as much as one wants, but as far as I can tell certain propositional content is necessary in order to have the proper faith in the person of Jesus Christ. Maybe we could even go a step further, and claim that there exists a set of propositions such that acceptance of any one of these would constitute the cognitive sine qua non of faith, without requiring that all those with faith share the acceptance of any single proposition. At any rate, knowledge is essential to salvation on this view. What, then, are the alternatives? I'll explore a few that have come to mind; I don't think that there can be an exhaustive list. In a way, this is simply another perspective on many of the issues which I've raised previously.

(1) Calvinism. Or any form of divine determinism, if one prefers. I've already stated my opinions on this view, but it does break through the problem of gnosticism; I think that in many cases this is implicitly in view when people accept Calvinism. There may appear to be knowledge which we need in order to be saved, but in reality, one's salvation is really based solely on God's (arbitrary?) unconditional election. The attaining of knowledge may be a means which God uses, or it may be some ruse (I really can't get away from the picture of a divine puppet show, and maybe even a divine puppet conducting the show, no matter how many people try to explain why determinism doesn't lead to this result). At any rate, determinism gets away from the problem, but I don't think that I can accept the cost.

(2) Broad Inclusivism/Pluralism. On this view, we can accept that there is a salvation, and we need to attain to this salvation, but a specific piece of knowledge is not necessary for the attainment. Or, perhaps, some knowledge is necessary, but it is something accessible to all. We can talk about the degree to which on acts on one's own, and the degree to which God helps one (just because the word "works" is involved does not imply semi-Pelgianism; that only follows if one reduces everything to a monergistic framework for any given action). The difference between inclusivism and pluralism is metaphysical, but I would think that phenomenologically the two could end up similarly; differences would accrue from specific accounts, not from the difference between the two categories. Because the knowledge would be accessible to all (perhaps as a recognition of the good?), I don't know that I would qualify this as a gnosticism. At any rate, it doesn't cause the difficulties which I see which other gnosticisms. One must say that there is something which is in principle available to all; if everyone actually sins, moral perfection is not actually available. Similarly, if knowledge of God is lacking in some large segment of society, I don't care what your exegesis of Romans 1 declares, they do not have access to knowledge of God.

(3) Universalism. If everyone is saved, then we don't have to worry about the problems with the two above views. We aren't saved simply by a random, amoral divine command to pick out a select few, we don't have to worry about any possible charges of pelagianism, and we have less to worry about concerning the denial of core Christian truths. It's certainly tempting. However, it seems that some people simply wouldn't be able to enjoy heaven; I don't even know what it would mean for these people to attain salvation if everyone would be there by default. Maybe we'd also have to have a purgatory of some sort or another which would prepare people? As I've heard it put in relation to Bonaventure's view of justification, spiritual fitness is like physical fitness. We could be forgiven for being couch potatoes, but that forgiveness wouldn't immediately change our bodies; we would need to get on that treadmill and diet. Similarly, we can be forgiven spiritually, and so have the debt we owe to God satisfied, but there needs to be a process of sanctification. Otherwise, we end up with the problem that either a) God could have made everyone perfect instantly, either at the Garden of Eden itself, or at a moment of faith for each of us (it would makes Christian claims actually convincing, if nothing else), or b) Heaven would really be a repeat of this world, with perhaps more sanctified people putting up with the continuing sinners. Can I opt for annihilationism, please? Perhaps, though, (3) could be combined with (1); this may make (1) more palatable, and (3) more understandable. I'm not sure.

There are many other alternatives within each of these categories, and many ways of drawing out the implications within each. One book which I've been picking up from time to time, The Beauty of the Infinite, appears to grapple with this issue as well: as opposed to most strands of postmodern thought, which claim that there is an irreconcilable difference at the core of reality which leads to an ontology of primal violence, the chief analogate of being is God as Triune, in whom difference is seen to be a difference of peace and harmony. For this reason, our distance from God and from each other, rather than a necessary cause of alienation, is the distance which allows us to see each other and rejoice. This infinitude is beautiful, and beauty is infinite, and so (skipping over vast sections of the book's argument) we can persuade each other through rhetoric in hope of an underlying peace uniting us. In terms of that which concerns me, there is a way of convincing everyone of whatever is necessary for salvation without shoving a (possibly unpalatable) truth down their throats.

So, why am I concerned with this issue? Because I never seem to see things as being quite as certain as those around me, because I see that faith in most people seems to come more through tunnel vision than anything else. As much as people denounce "blind faith," it seems impossible to get beyond a "myopic faith" at best. I want to know what it means to have faith, but the only way that I can know that I have a hope is if there is no "scandal of particularity," if I don't absolutely need to have some one bit of information in order to be saved. I can't simply have faith that God will guide me to whatever I need to know, because most people aren't so guided, unless some option like (2) or (3) above is correct. So, why should I actually accept the gospel as good news, rather than the destroyer of peace, trust, and happiness through its insistence on the narrow path? I guess I could perhaps accept a narrow path which at least everyone could find; what I can't accept is a narrow path which is only given to a few elites (even if they are elite through their own weakness, or through random chance). If everyone is a sinner, then we all may need to be put right and cannot enter heaven otherwise; however, it would seem to be a structural defect and not a moral one, and so in many cases worthy of annihilation at worst rather than hell (a position toward which I am inclined), and worthy of annihiliation only after all other possibilities have failed.

Tied in to this is the extent to which we can trust Scripture. I hold, as I have noted before, that even is Scripture is fallible, there is still significant evidence that the gospels intended to be eyewitness accounts of Jesus' life, and even if inaccurate are not likely to get something wrong like the resurrection. So, there is a grounding for the Christian life no matter what view we take of Scripture, as long as we can accept this. However, if Scripture teaches exclusivism, and philosophically I cannot maintain the view, what do I do? I'm not sure I agree with Scriptural arguments for inerrancy (not to mention that an errant text could still declare its own inerrancy), and there seems to be nothing outside of the text and the tradition which would suggest the concept (not to mention I'm not even sure of what it means). But, my own reasoning could be faulty, and I need something which can stand against it and correct it if need be. However, this can only be done by yielding it up to some authority, for which I need my reason to substantiate the authority of this authority, and so on and so forth.

Put in another way, there is no such thing as simply having faith in God. Faith in God is also first and foremost a faith in humans, unless we can escape this gnosticism in some fashion. I have to trust human beings when they relate the gospel, I have to trust them when they tell me what the Bible says, I have to trust them when they tell that the Bible is (or the preaching of it is) the Word of God. And all of this is already assuming that the testimonies of Christians are more trustworthy than anyone else; a rather tall claim indeed. I don't really find too many people that I'm willing to stake my eternal salvation on. Not that I'm any different; I shudder to think that people will actually one day listen to me and heed what I have to say. The point is, as finite beings in a confusing world, no human being would be trustworthy for such matters even if sin weren't an issue. So, how is God not cruel when he leaves our salvation in the hands of such incompetent, lazy, stupid, selfish messengers (yes, myself included), and quite honestly seems to do nothing to make the message palatable? The only way out that I can see is to assume that either (1) God really is doing all the work behind the scenes, (2) this message is one vehicle among others which can work for our salvation (maybe it is more a proclamation of God's glory than a necessary piece of knowledge), or (3) we're all saved anyhow. None of these seem quite acceptable to me.

Ok, enough rambling for now. Time for comments!