God and moral realism, informally speaking

At a department function on Friday, I had an interesting conversation with two of my compadres about moral realism and its interaction with theism. They presented some thought-provoking challenges to my (very rough) views, and so I’ve added some thoughts here. 

Generally, my position on moral realism has been that in order for it to make any sense, moral truths must involve categorical (rather than hypothetical) obligations and they must obtain independently of human belief in them. To be brief, categorical obligations are those obligations which we have regardless of our own desired ends. Thus, regardless of the fact that I might be an aspiring serial killer, I have an obligation not to commit murder. Hypothetical obligations on the other hand, are those obligations which we only have in virtue of the ends we recognize. Thus, given my desired goal maximizing utility or social stability, I might choose to refrain from murder. But I am not really wrong if I make a different choice, only foolish. And this seems not to be a moral obligation in the sense we normally mean it.

On my view, moral truths obtain only if they do not rely on our recognition or submission. Thus, a serial killer is wrong to commit murder, despite the fact that he repudiates all moral obligations, and despite the fact that he may be unaware of his moral obligations.

So far as I can see, this leads to three general positions: (1) moral realism consistent with theism, (2) moral skepticism consistent with metaphysical naturalism, (3) metaphysical naturalism with inexplicable moral realism. Both (1) and (2) seem, to me, to be acceptably consistent internally. In order to preserve the belief I have that my moral intuitions pick out truths in the world and that they are not merely by-products of an evolutionary process which conferred a selective advantage upon cooperative behavior and beliefs, I am pushed to theism. (I am pushed to theism for other reasons, of course. But this is one reason why I make that move.) If I were more strongly committed to metaphysical naturalism than I were to moral realism, then I might go for door (2).

(3), however, seems to me to be peculiar and mystical.* Why is that? Well, it seems to me that moral obligations, in order to be actual obligations, must be imposed by an appropriate authority. Otherwise, moral obligations seem to be claims which I can genuinely note with disinterest and then ignore. I don’t seem to me making any error of reason in doing so; I simply disvalue things which non-authorities might value. (I will leave it at this, but am happy to expand in the comments.) For someone who finds themselves committed equally to metaphysical naturalism and moral realism, (3) is a forgivably inconsistent position.

When talking to my two interlocutors and defending this general view, they asked me how I escaped from Euthyphro (“Is an act pious because the gods love it, or do the gods love an act because it is pious?”). I tend to opt for the former option; to me, the latter choice implies that God is bound by a goodness which has authority over him, which I find philosophically and theologically unacceptable. Thus, morality is, in a sense, arbitrary: to simplify greatly, we are obligated not to murder because God has so commanded us, though he could have commanded us otherwise.

Some will find this implausible or even disturbing. My interlocutors, however, asked if I really mean that God had no reason whatsoever for declaring some things good and others bad. Is God’s valuing really so arbitrary that he is indifferent to what he decides to value or disvalue?

My inclination is to do what many Christians do, and suggest that God’s moral demands come from his nature, which is inherently relational (hence the Trinity) and loving (hence the Trinity). Thus, his reason for bestowing certain moral obligations is (possibly) something like this: whether God designates an act as morally obligatory depends on whether the act contributes to his project of developing a loving, mutual relationship with Creation.

My interlocutors then raised a second worry. Concede, for now, that moral obligations only obtain if they are bestowed by a proper authority, an authority which I believe can be delegated. Why not simply claim that there is an infinite chain of authorities, each delegating the authority to the “next-lowest” on the totem pole? Here, my defense is a bit shakier. I have two thoughts: (1) there is some theoretical parsimony preserved by positing no more entities than needed to achieve a theory consistent with real moral obligations; (2) part of the notion of moral authority requires that the higher authority can overrule the lower and that power flows “downhill”, as it were. An infinite chain of authorities leaves every authority potentially overruled and, thus, a universe devoid of a supreme moral authority. Do we need a supreme authority for moral obligations to obtain? Perhaps not. I need help with this.

God’s relational lovingness and moral authority both demand some explanation. I can only say that I treat these as brute, basic facts about God, not unlike the tripartite nature of the Trinity. This is somewhat unsatisfying, but I view it as similar to speculation on what the world will be like after the Second Coming: we are attempting to work out the truth of propositions which are wholly and utterly beyond our experience and comprehension. We are thoroughly, entirely, inextricably contingent. A being of whom many propositions are necessarily true is perhaps not one we can analyze competently.

These are the general questions which they raised for me. Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments:

  1. What reason might God have for declaring something good? Is it truly arbitrary? Does it come from his nature? If it comes from his nature, why is his nature the way it is?
  2. If we concede that a moral authority is necessary for moral obligations to have any force, why might we not simply argue for an infinite layering of moral authorities?
  3. Is my position actually moral realism?

 

* Not in the cool, Teresa of Avila sense, but in the lame, morning horoscope sense.