A quibble: arguments against God in the gaps are arguments against God as an explanation of some physical phenomena. “Does the universe have a face?” (poetically speaking) is not a gap that could ever be discovered by experiment.
As you (and Yudkowsky, and eventually Hofstadter) rightly point out, there isn’t a universally compelling foundation to logic or reasons for things in general. In Reality and reality-boxes, I called the unifying feature among the uses of the word “reality” as a “degree of undeniableness,” since anything can be flat-out denied, it’s just harder to do so with some things than with others.
That all is fine when we’re talking about metaphysics that doesn’t connect with any physical measurements, but what I’d really like to know is how—without grounding—we can determine what to do. That is, how to conclude, even for one’s self, that one action is wrong and another is right (which happens every time we do even the most trivial of actions).
That’s why I was interested in the universe having a face, for the cosmos to have opinions about human actions. I’ve said elsewhere in this comment thread that I’m not very keen on that argument anymore because the mere existence—posited existence—of true good and true bad doesn’t help when our only access to ideas of good and bad are our feelings. It seems that when we’re deciding to act, we’re only pitting one set of feelings (e.g. social duty) against another (e.g. personal desires). I seem to be back to Emotivism when it comes to meta-ethics and I’m wondering if there’s a way to be convinced otherwise.
I seem to be back to Emotivism when it comes to meta-ethics and I’m wondering if there’s a way to be convinced otherwise.
One way — I do not here intend to speak for or against it — is to observe that there is a universal natural law written on our hearts, that it is impossible to not know (although it is possible to hide one’s knowledge from oneself).
Here is J. Budziszewki (a Catholic, theologian, and scholar of Aquinas) on the subject:
However rude it may be these days to say so, there are some moral truths that we all really know—truths which a normal human being is unable not to know. They are a universal possession, an emblem of rational mind, an heirloom of the family of man. That doesn’t mean that we know them with unfailing, perfect clarity, or that we have reasoned out their remotest implications: we don’t, and we haven’t. Nor does it mean that we never pretend not to know them even though we do, or that we never lose our nerve when told they aren’t true: we do, and we do. It doesn’t even mean that we are born knowing them, that we never get mixed up about them, or that we assent to them just as readily whether they are taught to us or not. That can’t even be said of “two plus two is four” Yet our common moral knowledge is as real as arithmetic, and probably just as plain. Paradoxically, maddeningly, we appeal to it even to justify wrongdoing; rationalization is the homage paid by sin to guilty knowledge.
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Interestingly, a part of the common moral sense is that there is a common moral sense. It is not only a recurring theme in philosophy, but a tradition in most cultures and a presupposition of both Jewish and Christian scriptures. Philosophers call this common sense the “natural” law to convey the idea that it is somehow rooted in how things really are. Chinese wisdom traditions call it the Tao; Indian, the dharma or rita. The Talmud says it was given to the “sons” or descendants of Noah, which means all of us. Abraham was so sure of it that he dared to debate with God. Saint Paul said that when Gentiles do by nature what the law requires, they show that its works are “written on their hearts”.
C.S. Lewis has written the same, calling the things we can’t not know the Tao.
Thank you for this response! (I have a few more books to add to my reading list.) Your post from 13 years ago is a very good explanation, too.
Ironically, though:
Here’s an experiment for everyone to try: think it good to eat babies. Don’t merely imagine thinking that: actually think it.
I have heard of an indigenous Australian tradition in which children were carefully, reverently turned into a blood-soup and consumed by the community (read in a book years ago, but there’s this online). And I do try to imagine what it’s like to live in this way. (I don’t think they considered it a normal, everyday thing to eat babies, but that the emotional shock had a power that could perhaps be used as a kind of magic.)
But I get your point; it’s like what I’ve been calling “degree of undeniableness.” (Budziszewki compares it to 2 + 2 = 4 and you compare it to observing that a red thing is red: logical deduction and physical observation can be denied, but it’s difficult to do so.) It’s very hard for me to agree that it’s good to eat babies. Even in the above-mentioned culture, I think it might have been a struggle, an aspect of society that was tossed as soon as they saw other ways of living. Maybe it’s not so much about what human attitudes exist—which covers a lot of extremes—as what’s easy to maintain and what gets tossed as soon as it’s recognized as not necessary.
(It’s not lost on me that the previous paragraph applies to all attitudes, not just ethics, but also smiling universes.)
A quibble: arguments against God in the gaps are arguments against God as an explanation of some physical phenomena. “Does the universe have a face?” (poetically speaking) is not a gap that could ever be discovered by experiment.
As you (and Yudkowsky, and eventually Hofstadter) rightly point out, there isn’t a universally compelling foundation to logic or reasons for things in general. In Reality and reality-boxes, I called the unifying feature among the uses of the word “reality” as a “degree of undeniableness,” since anything can be flat-out denied, it’s just harder to do so with some things than with others.
That all is fine when we’re talking about metaphysics that doesn’t connect with any physical measurements, but what I’d really like to know is how—without grounding—we can determine what to do. That is, how to conclude, even for one’s self, that one action is wrong and another is right (which happens every time we do even the most trivial of actions).
That’s why I was interested in the universe having a face, for the cosmos to have opinions about human actions. I’ve said elsewhere in this comment thread that I’m not very keen on that argument anymore because the mere existence—posited existence—of true good and true bad doesn’t help when our only access to ideas of good and bad are our feelings. It seems that when we’re deciding to act, we’re only pitting one set of feelings (e.g. social duty) against another (e.g. personal desires). I seem to be back to Emotivism when it comes to meta-ethics and I’m wondering if there’s a way to be convinced otherwise.
One way — I do not here intend to speak for or against it — is to observe that there is a universal natural law written on our hearts, that it is impossible to not know (although it is possible to hide one’s knowledge from oneself).
Here is J. Budziszewki (a Catholic, theologian, and scholar of Aquinas) on the subject:
C.S. Lewis has written the same, calling the things we can’t not know the Tao.
ETA: an old comment of mine going into more detail on Lewis’s Tao.
Thank you for this response! (I have a few more books to add to my reading list.) Your post from 13 years ago is a very good explanation, too.
Ironically, though:
I have heard of an indigenous Australian tradition in which children were carefully, reverently turned into a blood-soup and consumed by the community (read in a book years ago, but there’s this online). And I do try to imagine what it’s like to live in this way. (I don’t think they considered it a normal, everyday thing to eat babies, but that the emotional shock had a power that could perhaps be used as a kind of magic.)
But I get your point; it’s like what I’ve been calling “degree of undeniableness.” (Budziszewki compares it to 2 + 2 = 4 and you compare it to observing that a red thing is red: logical deduction and physical observation can be denied, but it’s difficult to do so.) It’s very hard for me to agree that it’s good to eat babies. Even in the above-mentioned culture, I think it might have been a struggle, an aspect of society that was tossed as soon as they saw other ways of living. Maybe it’s not so much about what human attitudes exist—which covers a lot of extremes—as what’s easy to maintain and what gets tossed as soon as it’s recognized as not necessary.
(It’s not lost on me that the previous paragraph applies to all attitudes, not just ethics, but also smiling universes.)