For some years I have been building a case about moral knowledge, moral denial, and the revenge of conscience.  In this new series, I will simply and concisely put all the pieces of the argument in one place.  It will run only on Thursdays, with posts on other topics several other times a week.  This is all copyrighted, of course.

The Same for All

In the Summa Theologiae, First Part of the Second Part, Question 94, Article 4, St. Thomas Aquinas – asking whether the natural moral law is the same for all men – makes the very strong claim that “the natural law, as to general principles, is the same for all, both as to rectitude and as to knowledge.”  Let’s unpack this statement to see why it is so astonishing.

To say that the general principles of the natural law are the same “as to rectitude” means that they are right for everyone.  For example, just as it would be wrong for me to murder, so it would be wrong for you to murder.  This claim is already quite strong, and a good many people in our time consider it pretty dubious.  We hear every day that “what’s right for you may not be right for me,” and that this is why we must not “judge” anyone else’s acts by our own standards.

But St. Thomas makes this already-strong claim stronger still.  For to say that the general principles are the same for all “as to knowledge” means that everyone knows them.  For example, not only is it the case that theft is wrong for everyone, but everyone knows that theft is wrong, even thieves.  I take this to mean not only that everyone knows that theft is wrong for him, but that everyone knows that theft is wrong for everyone.  Of course we are not speaking of persons incapable of reason; “all men” means everyone with an undamaged adult mind.  Nor are we speaking of the remote, detailed implications of the general principles; I may understand the wrong of theft in general, yet be confused about whether it would always be theft to refuse to return property entrusted to me at the time it is demanded.  Notice, too, that we are speaking of knowledge of the natural law itself, not the knowledge of the theory of natural law.  For example, people in general may not know that “Do not steal” is a natural law; they may not even know that there is such a thing as natural law.  They may, in fact, steal.  Nevertheless, they know that they ought not steal.  This is the claim.

If St. Thomas is correct, then no matter which kind of denier we are speaking of – whether the universal denier, who denies that there are any true moral universals, or the particular denier, who denies particular true moral universals such as the wrong of adultery or murder – the denier knows better.  Though he may give seemingly rational accounts of his objections, he is unreasonably resistant to solutions, because the obstacles that prevent him from acknowledging true moral universals lie less in the realm of the intellect than in the realm of the will.  He may even desire to concoct intellectual obstacles, because they give him a pretext for refusing to admit to himself that he knows what he does, in some sense, know.

And if this in turn is true, then we have an enormous problem.  It implies that a good portion of contemporary ethical and meta-ethical debate is not carried on in good faith.

But we are getting ahead of ourselves.  Here I am worrying about the implications of the proposition that persons who deny true moral universals know better, when I have not even presented any reasons to think that they do, in fact, know better.  Some people would say that I am even further ahead of myself than that, because I have not established that St. Thomas really means what I say he means when he states that the general principles of the natural law are the same for all as to knowledge.

Here then is what I propose.  First I will reply to possible arguments against my interpretation of St. Thomas’s claim; then I will present objections to his view and offer replies; then a more general argument for thinking that he is right; then why it is so important that he is right.  Finally I will return to the question of what to do about all of this.

Link to Part 2 of 14

Why was former President George W. Bush so resolute in assembling a coalition and a massive accumulation of force to achieve regime change during the Second Iraq War – but so irresolute (though not so irresolute as his successor) in stabilizing the country afterward?

To be sure, he radically underestimated the difficulty of the latter task.  He expected the coalition troops to be greeted as liberators, which for a short time they were.  But this is not a complete explanation.

He realized that the Americans and their allies might not have the moral nerve to stay the course in a protracted conflict.  But through the new military doctrine of “shock and awe,” heseems to have believed we would get in and out so quickly, with such overwhelming dominance, that there would be no course for us to stay.  As to the Iraqis, he expected our manner of waging war to impress them so thoroughly that even after the shock had dissipated, the awe would persist, transforming their civil society.

In short, he was attempting to apply a technological solution to a pair of moral problems – on our side, weakness of will, and on the Iraqi side, unreadiness for self-government.  And that is why he failed.

Tomorrow:  The Same as to Knowledge, Part 1

Many a louse parades his exquisite capacity for compassion, and I have taken my turn among the louses.  So you will understand that I am not boasting of my virtue when I remark that ever since coming of age I have been acutely uneasy about social wrongs.

When I was young and leftist, however, my attention was taken mostly by sins of omission, especially the neglect of the poor.  As I have grown older I have become much more painfully aware of sins of commission, especially hurting the poor in the name of helping them.  God have mercy on us all.

Tomorrow:  Moral Problems, Technological Solutions

Question:

“Is there any way to prove the first principles of natural law other than by claiming that they are self-evident?  What prompts this question is that the classical natural law thinkers like Thomas Aquinas say natural law is directed to human flourishing, but the Enlightenment thinkers like John Locke say it is directed toward preservation.”

Reply:

That’s really two questions, because there is a difference between the first precepts and the first principles of natural law, though both are self-evident.

The first precepts of natural law tell you what to do.  These include things like the Golden Rule, the precept of honoring parents, and the precept of being faithful to our spouses.

The first principles of natural law tell you what makes these precepts naturally right.  Various kinds of inclination are built into us, for example to preserve ourselves in being, to turn the wheel of the generations, and to seek the truth, especially the truth about God, in partnership with our fellows.  These inclinations aren’t something different from our flourishing; they specify the various dimensions of our flourishing.  Moreover, both St. Thomas and John Locke include preservation.  At least in that respect, they don’t really give conflicting answers to the question of first principles; it is just that St. Thomas’s answer is much more complete.

How do we know what the first precepts and the first precepts are?  They are known in themselves, built into the deep structure of the moral intellect.  Nobody has to learn a natural inclination; it is directly experienced.  Nobody needs a demonstration of the rightness of the Golden Rule; it is evident in itself.  Such things are impossible to prove.  They are what proofs are built from.

On the other hand, something can be evident in itself and yet not evident to me.  I can see for myself that deliberately taking innocent human life is wrong – yet I might need someone to call this fact to my attention.  I performed this service for a student one day when he proclaimed to me, "Morality is all relative anyway.  How do we even know that murder is wrong?"  I asked, “Are you in any doubt about that?”  He answered, “Some people might say murder is okay.”  I replied, “But I’m not talking with some people.  At this moment are you in any real doubt that murder is wrong for everyone?"  After a pause he admitted that he wasn't.

Although this is a legitimate way to engage the power of reasoning, it isn’t the same as proving that murder is wrong.  I was merely helping him realize that he knew it already.

Tomorrow:  Sins of Commission

“The only ultimate disaster that can befall us, I have come to realize, is to feel ourselves at home here on earth.”

-- attributed to Malcolm Muggeridge

Tomorrow:  Proving Natural Law