An Atheist and a Christian Walk into a Bar

by Randal Rauser

  Justin: Well, I do have to disagree with your loaded wording here. The view I'm endorsing here is that an obligatory act is the act that a person with all good desires would do under those particular circumstances. And there need not always be a careful mathematical calculation involved—after all, a person with good desires (and the right balance of them) will just naturally attempt the obligatory act because it is what they want to do.

  Randal: Your explanation misses the core issue: while an obligatory act is one a person with good desires would do, they'd do the act because it is obligatory. And it is this moral obligation that you need to explain.

  Justin: I must admit that I can make no sense of this. Presumably when you say a particular act is obligatory, you mean that there exists a moral sort of possibly indefeasible reasons to do that act, regardless of whether these reasons are consciously being entertained or sit in the background as one's moral character. When somebody acts on those kinds of reasons, they are doing acts that are morally obligatory. Maybe you conceive of moral obligation as some sort of magical force out there, but I just see no reason to grant your profound certitude on this matter any weight at all.

  Now, if you think moral obligations are acts done divorced from reasons for action, or if you think that there exist reasons for action that do not boil down to desires, I'm all ears.

  Randal: I said nothing about indefeasibility or “profound certitude,” still less a “magical force.” But moral obligation is indeed a feature of the moral life. If the mundane facts of reasoning are black, white, and gray, the call to moral action is bracing technicolor. In these particular moments, we experience a grip on our lives that can obliterate our moral calculus. For example, without a second thought, we dive into the raging torrent to save the drowning child simply because we sense that we ought to do it.

  And that describes the case of John Rabe. He could have listed many reasons to justify fleeing Nanjing, including the risk to his life, his obligations to his family, and the role he could have had in the West sounding the alarm on unfolding Japanese atrocities. And given these reasons, nobody would have condemned him for this reasonable retreat.

  But in the crisis moment, none of that mattered. Instead, Rabe perceived that he had an obligation, and I'd say a calling, to stand with the oppressed, and this conclusion simply blew his calculus away, even to the point of nullifying his powerful drive for self-preservation. The time for reasoning was done, the time for action had come. And, by acting on that call, he joined the inspiring ranks of the moral hero.

  Moral obligation and moral calling constitute two crucial (and overlapping) dimensions to the moral life. Moral obligation is a general call to all moral agents to undertake morally good actions and refrain from morally evil actions. And moral calling, so it seems to me, is a specific obligation given to a particular individual in the form of a call for that individual to undertake a moral action not given to others in the same context. In this way, Rabe sensed a call to stay with the oppressed while other expatriates could flee while violating no obligation or call.

  Obligation and call are not reducible to mere rational reflection or good desires, and we each need to explain their origin and nature. I understand both obligation and call to be borne of the call of God upon created moral agents like us to live in accord with the moral good.

  Justin: But Randal, I agree at least in part. The desire to put others ahead of oneself is a desire we all have very strong reasons to promote and encourage in others—it is a good desire. Your moral hero did that moral action because of the kinds of desires he had—because of the kind of person he had become. No external call was necessary.

  Sure, the initial evaluation of desires is deliberative, but that is a separate issue from the fact that, once a person possesses and is thereby motivated by good desires, they will do the morally obligatory act because it is what they will naturally want to do.

  Randal: First, as I’ve said, I deny that the foundation of moral reasoning is deliberative in the sense you’ve described. Rather, we begin with an innate perceptual ability to grasp moral good and moral evil, and we reason from there. Moral reasoning is dependent on these axiomatic starting points.

  As for Rabe, it isn't merely that he had good desires and acted on them. Rather, he sensed an obligation particular to him to stay behind in solidarity with the oppressed. As I’ve said, this sense of specific obligation seems to be a form of calling. And callings like this are not merely generated internally as we reflect on our own individual desires. Rather, they transcend the moral agent and impose restrictions upon our moral action.

  Ethicist C. Stephen Evans provides a good description of moral obligations, noting that they “involve a kind of verdict on an action, they make it possible to bring reflection on action to closure and make a decision about the action by providing a decisive reason for action, they are the kinds of things people are rightly held responsible for doing or omitting, and they hold for human persons just as human persons.”5

  And, as I’ve said, I would add that specific obligations placed on individuals in particular contexts are best understood as particular moral callings. The challenge of any theory of ethics is to explain the force and binding nature of these moral obligations.

  As a theist, this dimension of the moral life makes good sense to me, since I believe moral obligations and callings are constituted by God's commands to his creatures to act in accord with moral value in specific situations. In the case of Nanjing's refugee crisis, Rabe sensed the divine command that was perceived as a binding obligation to remain behind with the refugees.

  Justin: Well, I don't deny that there are strong emotional forces pulling us to and from different actions in our moral decision-making. I just think this is explained by the complexity and potency that is the internal struggle of desires—the only reasons for action that actually exist. Sometimes the answer of what we should do is utterly obvious and, at other times, it isn't.

  Randal: Thanks Justin; that's a candid response. So it would seem that, on your view, that sense of transcendent moral calling that John Rabe experienced to remain behind with and defend the oppressed was nothing more than a subjective emotion in response to his internal desires.

  Justin: Nothing more than subjective emotion? What you view as transcendent, I recognize as the internal battle between desires we must all struggle with. Some of us are better at it than others. Morality, like many other aspects of life, takes practice.

  Randal: But by taking that position you’ve eviscerated moral obligation of its binding force. Let's say that Bruce is studying to be a plastic surgeon and his plan is to have a career doing cosmetic surgery for rich women in Beverly Hills. Suddenly he senses a call to change his life course completely and instead devote his career to healing poverty-stricken war refugees in sub-Saharan Africa. On your view, what Bruce interprets as a binding, transcendent call of selfless service is really nothing more than Bruce's own reflections on his internal desires. But once you say that, the call loses its transcendent, binding force. You might as well say, “Bruce, it's all in your head!”

  Justin: Rhetoric aside, I don't think this is a problem in the least. I think it's simply recognizing that desires are what motivate us. For you, it's a desire to please God. Inescapably though, a desire is what motivates your action. And, whether we like it or not, the brain that gives rise to those desires, even if that isn't the full picture, is found in your head.

  Randal: Obviously we both think moral values and obligations are in our heads in the sense that we grasp them with our brains. But you’ve provided no account of moral obligation beyond your internal subjective desires. By contrast, on my view, John Rabe and Bruce the doctor experienced an objective, binding moral obligation, a calling from God to undertake particular heroic actions in serving the poor and destitute in accord with moral virtue. So while your account undermines the objective, unilateral binding force of moral obligation, my account explains it.

  Justin: I
’ve never once claimed that moral obligation simply boils down to my subjective desires. I’ve consistently claimed that morally obligatory acts are acts that persons with good desires would do in that situation. Moral obligation is about important kinds of desires. Now, if you don't mind, I have a question I'd like to ask about this moral perception of yours before we move on.

  Randal: Then ask it! You don't need my permission.

  COULD GOD COMMAND SOMETHING MORALLY HEINOUS?

  Justin: Admittedly, the following question deals with a specific theistic tradition (rather than mere classical theism as we’ve been so far discussing), but I think it might be useful in understanding how this perception functions on your view. We are both quite familiar with the story of the binding of Isaac. If you were there, would you have directly perceived what Abraham was willing to do as an evil act?

  Randal: No problem, that's fair game. Even if our primary focus is classical theism, I have made particular references to Christian theism in particular, and of course I am a Christian, so it is legitimate for you to ask about a specific part of the biblical narrative.

  Justin: I knew it!

  Randal: Let me first say that Jews and Christians have always taken a range of views over how to interpret narratives like the Akedah (the binding of Isaac), which is referenced in Genesis 22. Some interpreters have taken this to be a historical event that happened in the past. But others have interpreted it as a nonhistorical, allegorical tale with theological significance. Others believe it is historical, but they insist that a range of textual cues support the reading that Abraham knew God was not really demanding sacrifice. Still others adopt a sort of hybrid view, by taking the story in the terms of what Karl Barth called saga, which Barth views as something like an allegorical tale with some shadowy historical antecedent. My point is that interpretation of this narrative is an intramural debate among Jews and Christians. And the debate over how to interpret Genesis 22 does not affect my tradition of Christianity, let alone theism simpliciter.

  With that long preamble out of the way, let me take the bull by the horns and address your question directly. What would I do if I believed God was telling me to kill my child as a spiritual sacrifice?

  Simple. I'd seek counselling and medical advice. I'm guessing you would as well. I hope that response isn't too disappointing, but it's the truth. If I came to believe God was calling me to kill my child, I'd believe it was more likely that I was delusional than that God was calling me to kill my child, and I'd act accordingly.

  Justin: Well, for your sake and for the sake of your child, I'm glad to hear it.

  Perhaps you can help my confusion. In the context of an earlier argument, you’ve remarked about the epistemic distance that exists between our knowledge of the moral realm and God's knowledge of the moral realm. After all, if God is omniscient, she will know all possible goods and evils that could possibly exist and how they relate.

  If that's true, and if God has a morally sufficient reason beyond your finite, human understanding for commanding what you believe her to be commanding, then you shouldn't expect to know what that justifying reason is, correct?

  Randal: Um, yeah, sure. If God commands p, I shouldn't expect to know why God commands p. By analogy, if the master mechanic working on my car asks me to hand him the cobalt screw extractor set, I shouldn't expect to know why he has asked me to hand him the cobalt screw extractor set. But I can still ask whether he has asked me to hand him the cobalt screw extractor set. (After all, I could be wrong about that.)

  As a Christian, I believe God rejects what is commonly called redemptive violence—that is, the use of violent means to bring about reconciliation between alienated parties. I believe the death of Jesus brings an end to all such appeals to violence as a means of reconciliation. As a result, I will have a strong defeater to any claim that God is now commanding violence as a means of reconciliation. And that certainly encompasses the most sacred bond of the parent/child relationship.

  So, as a Christian, I will have a strong reason to reject as genuine any perceived call of God to wreak violence upon my beloved progeny.

  Justin: Okay, but I'm not entirely sure that is relevant in this case. After all, as you’ve suggested, God's omniscience doesn't merely entail that there are some moral truths beyond our grasp. It also suggests that you are in no position to say that this one reason you’ve identified is even loosely representative of the total reasons that God has available to her for acting. Moreover, we could, for the sake of the thought experiment, bring you back in time and place you in Abraham's shoes.

  It would seem, then, that you are in no position to guess the likelihood of God commanding that of you. For all you know, God has a supremely magnificent good, which can only be achieved through this initially unfortunate event.

  Randal: Sure it is logically possible that God could command something that appears to be morally heinous. But, for goodness sake, Justin, something parallel to that is true of every moral theory. Take your own theory predicated on moral desires. It's logically possible that moral desires could require actions that appear to be morally heinous. Since you’re raising a point that applies trivially to every moral system, I fail to see what you hope to accomplish by pushing that particular issue on me.

  Justin: I worry you’ve missed the more important of the two points, Randal. Notice that I'm not just saying that it's logically possible that God might permit something that appears to you as morally heinous. That wouldn't be terribly interesting all by itself. Rather, I’ve made the additional claim that, given the epistemic distance between you and God, you are in no position to place likelihoods either way. That second part deserves some serious focus.

  Randal: On the contrary, the cases are parallel on that point too. How do you know that you are not in a precisely parallel situation regarding your epistemic distance from the right moral desires? In other words, how do you know that the right moral desires are not ones you now consider morally heinous?

  Justin: Of course it's possible that I am wrong about a particular obligation I believe I have or don't have. As you pointed out, that's a potential issue on all views. Besides, that's not even what I'm pressing here.

  You’ve said that, if you were to start thinking God was commanding you to do something you directly perceived as heinous (like killing your child or torturing and killing a POW, which you earlier said was always wrong no matter the circumstances), you would think yourself more likely delusional than that God was really commanding that act.

  Randal: Yup.

  Justin: However, this reaction to my hypothetical shows that you believe yourself to have sufficient representative knowledge of the reasons God has available to her in order to claim that God probably would never command such a thing. Would you agree?

  Randal: I'm glad you’re conceding that every moral theory faces the same hypothetical that a person could be radically incorrect in their current moral beliefs, whether those beliefs concern moral obligations, moral values, or desires. But I'm surprised that you don't see how that fact undermines your whole line of questioning.

  As for my current moral beliefs, as I said, a person's fundamental knowledge of moral value on which moral obligations are predicated is not arrived at discursively by grasping particular reasons for action and inferring moral values and obligations from them. Rather, they are perceived immediately, as with Tolstoy's immediate perception of the evil of capital punishment.

  Justin: Yes, I'm aware that this is your view. My question though is not about how you perceive moral facts. Rather, my question is about how much is being perceived.

  Now, I'm sure we can agree that, given that God is morally perfect, God would not command something unless she had a morally sufficient reason to do so. It follows then that, when you responded to my hypothetical scenario about coming to believe that God was commanding you to kill your child by saying,

  “I'd believe it was more likely that I was delusional than that God was calling me to kill
my child.”

  we can translate that to,

  “I'd believe it was more likely that I was delusional than that God has a morally sufficient reason to command me to kill my child.”

  Now, as finite beings, we might not be able to perceive any morally sufficient reason at all why an omniscient God, if she exists, would command such a killing or any other instance of evil for that matter. But the question I’ve been trying to get at is, does it logically follow that, just because we cannot perceive such a morally justifying reason for God to command you to kill your child, that it is therefore more likely that you are delusional?

  Randal: But Justin, I'm not a utilitarian. In other words, I believe there are all sorts of actions that I could never have a moral obligation or moral calling to perform. For example, as I’ve already said, I believe torture and rape are categorically evil. Since I believe those actions are necessarily immoral, it follows that I could never have a moral obligation to torture or rape another person. I have the same view about devotional child killing, and I’ve defended that view in a conference paper called “I want to give the baby to God: Three theses on devotional child killing.”6

  Justin: Well, color me confused. On the one hand, you claim that certain acts are necessarily immoral. And yet, earlier you said that it is merely more likely that you are delusional than that God wants you to kill your child.

  If you think that God commanding you to kill your child is not impossible, then how were you able to entertain my hypothetical in the first place? We could have saved some time if you had just argued my hypothetical was incoherent in the first place.

  Randal, you’ve said you’re not a utilitarian. I wonder though, do you think God is? For example, in the previous discussion on religious disagreement, you suggest that God allows certain horrific evils to occur in the world for some greater good.