I can almost rest assured

that no one reads these posts, so I can be completely honest in a way that would be difficult otherwise.  I have mentioned comprehensive doctrines in a previous post.  As I've implied, I don't say religion, because other doctrines, political doctrines, can become in themselves comprehensive.  Indeed, if one reads Isaiah Berlin, much of the convulsion of the 20th century can be laid at the feet of two comprehensive political doctrines, Nazism and Communism.  Religion, however, is having a resurgence of sorts, as the most dangerous of comprehensive doctrines, the terrorist threat aligned with the so-called radical Islam being the most obvious (at least from a typical American point of view) but it has released in response a resurgence of  our own versions of radical Christian fundamentalism represented by the seriousness with which we are taking  one Ted Cruz as a viable candidate for the office of president.

Having said this, I should probably come out of the closet as an atheist.  There is no God, particularly no creator God, and the truth revealed in the scriptures is a human truth, no more or less viable than the truth revealed in the quartos of Shakespeare or the novels of Faulkner.  I won't make a religion of atheism, and take up the banner of atheism, but I will assert, along with Christopher Hitchens that "religion poisons everything" though I would expand the thought and say "any comprehensive doctrine poison everything."  Any comprehensive doctrine, to remain comprehensive, must revert to dogma -- that is to say, it must insist on its truth to the exclusion of all other truths.  When confronted with the anomalous, that which doesn't quite fit the revealed truth (like modern cosmology and the Darwinian account of origins) it must insist on the three monkeys.  It must "see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil" -- that is to say again, it must insist on a willful ignorance.  Here, "insist" might be too milk toast a word, but we can see the "insistence" in some of the most cruel treatment of those who cannot quite bend their will to the ignorance.

The difficulty is, at one level, simple credulousness.  I don't doubt that there are those who sincerely believe, for example, that Joseph Smith received the word of God on Golden Tablets.  It requires of me, however, a credulousness, a faith, that I cannot quite muster.  In principle, there's nothing very different from this and receiving the word of God from a burning bush.  My response is something along the line of "really?  You believe that?  Moreover, you believe that, if I don't believe as well, that I am in one way or another damned?"  There are elements of every "faith" that are simply beyond any credibility.

At another level, though, the difficulty is philosophical.   I revert to a Popperian argument, and simply point out that "revealed truth" is not, by definition, falsifiable and consequently is immutable.  We haven't, in other words, updated the book of Genesis as revealed to Moses and replaced it with the understanding revealed by modern cosmology.  We are stuck with the account of Genesis as the one, and the only permissible, truth.  The major religions have all tap danced around this question, but all attempts to square religion with science end up reducing the former to a human document, a set of metaphors and parables, no different in kind that the tales Asimov.  They are a monumental waste of intellectual energy.  The other response, covering one's eyes and plugging one's ears, ignoring the evidence and all the while insisting that others too ignore the evidence on pain of damnation, is more dangerous.  If the willfully ignorant were content with my eternal damnation, I could be fine.  Everyone is entitled to their own swaths of ignorance, because no one can know all, apparently even God, if the book of Genesis is the best he could do as a cosmology.  The willfully ignorant are, however, never content with the thought of my eternal damnation, but must make the damnation temporal and jump start the punishment for apostasy right here and right now.

I am what might be called a moral rationalist.  There are certain assumptions.  The first assumption is that we are, as a species and as individuals, less unique than we might wish we were.  We are, however, somewhat "self-contained" within our consciousness.  For example, if I whack my thumb with a hammer, it is painful in a direct and indubitable way.  I might play philosophical games, and claim the pain was only an illusion, but I am unlikely to test that hypothesis with another whack of the hammer.  If I see another whack his thumb with a hammer, I don't feel the pain in the same direct and indubitable way, but I can assume it is as painful to him as it was to me.   I assume a simple empathy.  Don't, however, equate morality with simple empathy.   The whole notion of torture depends upon simple empathy.  If I am attempting to bend another's will to my own with torture, I am operating from the same basis of simple empathy.  I do not feel the pain, but I assume that the one being tortured does, in fact, feel the pain and it is being inflicted on him to achieve some end.  Personal morality enters the picture when we say something like -- "I don't like it when I feel excruciating pain, therefore I will not inflict excruciating pain on others."  Civil morality enters the picture when we say something like -- "I don't like it when I feel excruciating pain, therefore we will pass a law prohibiting one from inflicting excruciating pain on others."  It is, in effect, the golden rule and the elevation of the golden rule to a categorical imperative.  Civil morality and the categorical imperative always implies a duty to others -- the duty in this case to abide by the law and NOT inflict torture on others.    I don't need a religion to command either personal or civic morality.  I do, however, need a government to enforce the latter.

The second assumption is evolutionary.  This is where it becomes a bit more technical and philosophical proper.  I do not believe that "nature" is teleological.  I do not believe, in other words, that nature exists for a purpose or as part of some grand design.  I do not believe there is a cosmicomic, a once and for all answer to the question "why?"   As I've implied in previous posts, there is localized "purpose" or "intentionality," but it is always, in principle, limited to a particular "system."  More on this tomorrow ...  

The Moral & Ethical Continued

By simply linking the moral and a governing intentionality, it would appear that I have done away with the distinction between the moral and the immoral.  It is, in the common use, possible to have an "immoral" intentionality.  It is, for example, possible to set out to create a racially and ethically pure state, to eliminate all the jews, blacks, browns, catholics, and muslims.  There follows a number of instrumental acts, each of which is justified against that end, very few of which might be considered "good."  I would hope that humanity has grown beyond such ends, but recent events, and discussions around town, tell me that we haven't.  Donald Trump, and the populist support for Donald Trump, are a case in point.  I don't know, and don't care to know, what the Donald actually believes, but he has shown a cynical disregard for historical precedence and a calculating willingness to prey on his people's almost entirely irrational fear of "radical muslims."

My point is really two-fold.  First, I might say, there is still a moral decision.  Just as one can choose to play or not play chess, one can choose to "provide for the basic needs of my family" or "create an ethically pure (and hence secure) state."  Whether a given intentionality is moral or immoral must be decided, but regardless, one must still choose to play, or to not play, the game.  Second, I might say, once one has decided to play the game, whatever it might happen to be, there follows a second set of on-going instrumental decisions around how one is to play the game.  

Using chess again as a more or less trivial example, one may choose to play or not play.  Once one has made that decision, once one has made the "moral decision" to seek checkmate, however, one must still decide on the various moves dedicated to that end.   Here we might make distinctions based on "utility" or the effectuality of one's acts.  One can play poorly or one can play well.  Within the confines of the game, so to speak, one's acts will lead to "checkmate," but the on-going decisions around this move (and not that move) will determine whether one is a winner or loser.  Here too we might make distinctions based on the "ethics" or permissibility of various moves.  Chess has rules, around turn taking, delineating the moves one can and can't make with certain pieces, et cetera.   If one makes permissible moves within the rules, so to speak, one is behaving ethically.  If one makes impermissible moves outside the rules, one is "cheating" or behaving unethically.   

To broaden the context, when we say, "the ends do not justify the means" we are making the distinction between "utility" and "ethics."  For example, once one has made the moral decision to "provide for the basic needs of one's family," one must still decide on the means to that end.  On the one hand, a person might decide to "get a job" and use the income from that job to make such provision.  Or another person might decide to "sell drugs" and use the proceeds to make such provision.  One act may  more or less ethical or effectual than another act.  On the one hand,  to play it out, if the only job available to an individual is as a minimum wage convenience store clerk, his procurement of a job might well be "wholly ethical" but "completely ineffectual" to that end.  On the other hand, the drug dealer might be more successful, but we can't necessarily say he is "completely ethical" in his methods.   Both the convenience store clerk and the drug dealer might be acting relative to the same intentionality, to the same moral end, to provide for the basic needs of their family, but in the latter case we would still want to say "the ends do not justify the means."  He is not playing within the confines of the "law" or the "rules of the game."  Within my definitional scheme, he is behaving morally, but not ethically.  

I feel as though I'm splitting some hairs here, but the split ends allow us to account for certain things. To take one example, we might say someone like Adolf Eichmann behaved immorally, but effectively and not unethically -- that is to say, he might say he should have decided against the moral decision to create a ethnically pure state, but having made that decision -- having decided to play Hitler's game, so to speak -- his subsequent actions were effective to that end, and given the prevailing rules within his state not unethical.  When Arendt talks about the "banality of evil," she is, I believe, making these distinctions.  The "evil," I want to suggest, lay in the moral decision to adopt Hitler's "final solution" as his own, the  "banality" lay the utter rationality and conventionality of his subsequent instrumental and ethical behavior.    

To take another example, alluded to above, we might adopt, as a good, the intentionality to "create a secure state."  This is, of course, a common presidential imperative, and it's not surprising that there is debate concerning how best to achieve "security."  The moral decision has more or less been made.  No one debates whether "create a secure state" is good or evil.  It is presumptively a "good."  Having said that,  however, as a move within the game, "banning Muslims" may or may not be effectual to that end, may or may not be rationalized on utilitarian grounds.  Most who have supported the Donald in this statement, have rationalized it on utilitarian grounds, but to extend the example, as a move within the game of "creating a secure state," no one is calling to "ban fundamentalist or charismatic Christians," even though Timothy McVeigh was inspired, not by allegiance to Jihad, but sympathy for fundamentalist or charismatic Christianity.  Why not?   If we were solely concerned with effectual acts to create security, we should ban both "radical Islam" and "radical Christianity," but the ethical rule is quickly invoked in the second case.  The banning of either may or may not be effectual in creating a more secure state -- on the order of utility, proof is always in the pudding, so to speak -- but in the latter case, the constitutional protections of religion, the rules limiting the behavior of presidents relative to religion, would be invoked.  Why?   In other words, it may be useful, but not ethical, to ban radical religion.  Thankfully, even most of the Republicans spoke up regarding such "bans."  We must seek other means to the end of a secure state.  

So, to sum up, we make a moral decision when we adopt (or reject) a governing intentionality.  Once adopted, we make subsequent instrumental and ethical decisions about how "best" to effectuate that intentionality.   These are definitional tools for analysis, and I'm hoping that they prove to be helpful.  As a sidebar note, definitions are nevertheless important.  The "why not" and "why" above point at their importance.   The constitutional protections would be invoked relative to Islam because, well, by definition, it's a religion, the one true religion, the one the framers of the constitution meant when they said "religion," and the other is, as we all know, something else entirely, at the very best a false religion, its followers among Satan's legions ... whoops, got that backward, but the point stands ... Get it? 

The Moral and Ethical

I need to differentiate between "morality" and "ethics."  These are definitional differences and somewhat arbitrary within common usage of the terms, but I think it useful to keep distinct what we might mean by "moral" and what we might mean by "ethical."

On the one side, the intentionality of an activity defines its morality.  Let us say, for example, that my actions are predicated on the desire to take care of the basic needs of my family.  The governing intentionality, in this case, is "take care of the basic needs of my family" and this intentionality defines the morality of my acts.  Some unpacking:  

First, intentionality is teleological in a weak sense -- that is to say, it proposes an end for our activities.  I say "weak" because it is not a once and for all end, but a provisional and contingent end set within a variety of circumstances.  I may have taken care of the basic needs of my family today, but cold and hunger may raise their specter tomorrow.

Second, intentionality "governs" in a number of senses, but principally it differentiates between those acts that are instrumental to the end, and those that are not.  Here again the instrumentality, the effectuality, of an act relative to its intentionality is provisional and contingent.  It is one thing to posit "take care of the basic needs of my family" in a capitalist system, another in a socialist system.  Acts in one system or environment may well be ineffectual, and the same or similar acts in another may well be effectual.

Having said as much, there is some alignment between the notion of intentionality and Wittgenstein's notion of a "language game."   Intentionality is a "given."  It is a biological and/or social construct a priori to any one individual.  An overused example:  "checkmate" is the governing intentionality of chess.  It is possible, of course, that one or another player may make random moves on the board, and that player is certainly "doing something," but if he or she is not seeking checkmate, they are doing something else.  They are not "playing chess."   Seeking checkmate is what it "means" to play chess.  Likewise, "take care of the basic needs of my family" is a given.  It is a biological and/or social construct a priori to my choice.  It is possible, of course, that I might go through my days drinking and carousing, and when asked "why?" I could claim that "I was taking care of the basic needs of my family," but the follow on question would be a legitimating "Really?  How so?"  They would want to know just how my drinking and carousing could be instrumental to that end.  My drinking and carousing might be "doing something," but they are not what it "means" to take care of the basic needs of my family. 

More tomorrow ....        

So on and so forth

We have two principles:

(1)  Without government, humanity reverts to a state nature as described by Hobbes, a war of all against all.  There is a corollary to this, of course, more or less recognized by Hobbes, that there will be "winners" and "losers" in the war or all against all, and the "winners" will assert dominance, to one degree or another, over those "losers" within their sway.  This is government of a sort, but not a particularly desirable sort for the "losers."  No one, that is to say, would freely choose to become one of the "losers," and it is for that reason that governments have been instituted among people.

(2) No comprehensive doctrine is complete and whole, once and for all.  For the purposes of definition, let me simply contrast comprehensive doctrine from theoretical doctrine.  On the former hand, the comprehensive is doctrine that purports to be "absolutely true" outside of temporal considerations -- that is to say, it came into being once upon a time, but has been incontrovertibly true for all time and all people.  On the latter hand, the theoretical is doctrine that purports to be "contingently true" within temporal considerations -- that is to say, it too came into being once upon a time, but its "truth" is contingent on the here and now.  Religious doctrine tends to fall in the former camp, scientific doctrine in the latter camp.

Although it might be said that theoretical doctrine aims, in a teleological sense, to reduce its contingency on the here and now, to become more and more comprehensive -- that being the point of science as a human activity -- any doctrinal statement, any of the so-called scientific laws, is held true only contingently until a "better" explanation comes along (e.g. Copernicus and Galileo) or within certain certain defined realms (e.g. Newtonian, Einstein's, Bohr's physics).

It might be noted that I have focused in the previous post on what might be called the "factual" as opposed to the moral and ethical "truth" of religious doctrine -- that only the most illiterate would tend to focus on the factual truth of religious doctrine, or would distinguish between those moral and ethical statements that are central and those factual statements that are peripheral to the religious doctrine.  The moral, the ethical, and the factual are in practice often blurred.  For example, for most Christians, it must be accepted as a "fact" that the Christ is the son of God, born of Mary, et cetera.  The moral precept, found in Matthew 12:30, that "whoever is not with me is against me" differentiates in much the same way that the earlier statement, found in Exodus 20:3, "thou shalt have no false gods before me" differentiates between those who are inside and those outside the circle.  It comes with the force of a command, "thou shalt ..." and it both necessitates and justifies a differential treatment of those who do have, as it were, "false gods."  If we are to be a Christian nation, with a true Christian government, it must be accepted as a "fact" that Christ is the son of God, born of Mary, et cetera, and those who do not accept it are, well, not "true citizens" of the Christian nation and subject to a differential treatment. I could have as easily said, "if we are to be a Muslim nation, with a  true Muslim government, it must be accepted as a "fact" that Mohammed is the prophet, et cetera, and those who do not accept it are, well, not "true citizens" of the Muslim nation and subject to a differential treatment.  I could have as easily said "if we are to be a Marxist nation ..."  so on and so forth.

(3) Having said that, here's what I might set out as the third principle --  that any government founded on a comprehensive doctrine, ultimately, differentiates on the basis of that doctrine and, so to speak,  subjects those who are not "true citizens" to a differential treatment.   There are plenty of historical examples to support the idea that the differential treatment is not benign, never turns out to be "better" or even "equal"  treatment.  I could, but won't, dwell on those instances where imposition of "true" doctrine has led to the greatest cruelty imaginable.  Let me just suggest something, and then ask a question.  In our current nation, such as it is, many see the alignment of the Republican party with Christian evangelical religion as a "good thing," and it would be an even better thing if the Republican party, and, presumptively, if the principles of Christian evangelicalism prevailed in the next election.  The support given to the likes of Ted Cruz is, perhaps, an example of the same.  The right feels aggrieved and insurgent -- as it were, revolutionary in much the same way that the early Christians were revolutionary within the corruption of Rome.  Suppose they do, and though I consider it unlikely, suppose for the moment that they held sway, exercised the power of the government to enforce their precepts of what a true Christian nation "should" be.  Which of the constitutional precepts, which of the Bill of Rights would be the first to go?