Morality and the Will of God | Moral Philosophy Through the Ages

MORALITY AND THE WILL OF GOD

From Moral Philosophy through the Ages (2nd edition), by James Fieser

CONTENTS

Introduction

The Euthyphro Dilemma

Scotus's Divine Command Theory

Scotus's Theory

The Argument from Revoking Established Moral Standards

The Argument from Absolute Power

Divine Command Theory after Scotus

Criticisms of Divine Command Theory

Cudworth's Criticism: Morality Becomes Arbitrary

Leibniz's Criticism: Divine Goodness becomes Meaningless

Bentham's Criticism: Difficulty in Identifying God's Will

Hume's Criticism: It is Impossible to Know the Moral Qualities of God

Lingering Issues with Religious Ethics

Secular Criticisms of Religious Ethics

Limits of Religious Appeals

References

Study Questions

INTRODUCTION

"The Underwear Bomber" is the name given to a Nigerian man in his early twenties who some years ago attempted to detonate an explosive device hidden in his underwear while onboard a flight from Amsterdam to Detroit. The bomber had lit the device, but he was quickly subdued by a fellow passenger who heard popping noises and detected a burning odor. He was arrested, put on trial in U.S. Federal court, and found guilty of several charges including the attempted murder of 289 people. He was then sentenced to four life terms in prison without the possibility of parole. The bomber's motivations were unequivocally religious. At the trial, the Judge stated that "The defendant has never expressed doubt or remorse about his mission. . . . To the contrary, he sees that mission as divinely inspired and a continuing mission." During sentencing, the bomber himself shouted that he was proud to kill in the name of God, and that is what God told us to do in scripture.

Religious believers typically think that it is a good thing to follow the will of God. God commands us to do what is right and just, and the Underwear Bomber is a worst-case scenario of someone committing an evil act allegedly in obedience to God's orders. The important philosophical question this raises is whether God, assuming that he exists, could ever command someone to do an otherwise immoral act. Does God simply invent moral rules as he sees fit, or does God himself answer to a higher standard? A long-standing tradition in religious ethics called divine command theory holds that God indeed creates moral rules purely as a function of his free will. If God chooses to make a specific standard of morality, it thereby becomes moral simply because of him willing it so. If God chooses to make murder wrong, it thereby becomes wrong. But so too of other possible actions. If God chooses to make it morally obligatory for everyone to hop around on one foot on Thursdays, that action then becomes morally obligatory. Perhaps God could even willfully reverse the current rules of morality and make an act like murder morally permissible.

In this chapter, we will look at the central arguments for and against divine command theory. This theory is at the heart of many disputes about the relation between religion and ethics. It raises questions about whether the concept of God plays a critical role in moral judgments, whether it is possible to have a purely secular standard of right and wrong, and whether religious believers are in a privileged position to know moral truth. The Underwear Bomber and like-minded religious terrorists claim that they are in such a privileged position. But it is not just the terrorists. Several of society's most controversial moral issues today often involve claims about moral standards that God presumably established, such as with abortion, euthanasia, capital punishment, or homosexuality. The more we understand the theories about morality and God's will, the better we may be able to make sense of these claims.

The Euthyphro Dilemma

The philosophical issue surrounding morality and the will of God first came to light in the writings of the ancient Greek philosopher Plato (428–348 BCE) in his dialogue Euthyphro. In that work, a character named Euthyphro is prepared to turn his father over to the authorities for mistreating and causing the death of a slave. In ancient Greece, children were expected to show unconditional loyalty to their parents, and so, by turning in his father, Euthyphro would be violating the standard code of morality. Nevertheless, Euthyphro believes that he is following the will of the gods and therefore doing the right thing. On his way to the courthouse, Euthyphro bumps into Socrates, and the two start debating on the connection between morality and religious obedience. Socrates then poses this question to Euthyphro: "Are good things good because the gods approve of them, or do the gods approve of them because they are good?" This question is now known as the Euthyphro Dilemma, and, reworded in more modern terminology, the two options in the dilemma are these:

1. God creates moral standards without any source of guidance external of him.

2. Moral standards exist independently of God, and God merely endorses them.

To clarify, the first option is that God is the sole author of morality, and something becomes good when God simply wills and pronounces that it is good. For example, God might will that children should show unconditional loyalty to their parents, and, by so willing, it is thereby morally good and obligatory that children do this. In this view, if God will that something should be morally good, then it simply becomes morally good once God pronounces it so.

The second option is that good things are objectively good, and God merely recognizes them as such. For example, it may be objectively good and obligatory for children to show unconditional loyalty to their parents, and God just endorses this moral standard. In this view, morality is grounded in a preexisting standard of moral goodness, which God himself has no control over and must adopt. The genius of Plato's puzzle is that these are the only two choices available for explaining the connection between God and morality: God either invents it from scratch or follows an independent standard. Further, since we cannot endorse both of these options at the same time, we are locked into choosing one over the other. Plato himself believed that morality is grounded in external and preexisting standards, and so he went with the second option. By doing so, he rejects the first option that God invents morality.

Although Plato took the second option, during the Middle Ages philosophers seriously considered both positions. The medieval writers who debated this issue were often part of the natural law tradition of moral philosophy. That is, they all roughly held that God endorses specific moral standards and fixes them in human nature. We then discover these natural laws of morality through our conscience or through reflection on our natural human inclinations. Although natural law philosophers agreed on these basic points, they disagreed about where God got moral standards to begin with.

This was part of a larger debate between two ways of seeing the relation between God's reason and God's will, and which of the two is more important for divine actions. The contending positions were called intellectualism and voluntarism, where the latter term comes from the Latin voluntas for "will". Intellectualism is the view that God's intellect is primary and reason guides divine actions. For example, when God created the world, he did so based on the best possible plan as he determined it though his perfect divine wisdom and rationality. Aquinas took this approach. By contrast, voluntarism is the view that God's will takes precedence over his intellect, and his free will dictates divine actions. For example, when God created the world, he did so purely from his free choice, unconstrained by any necessity of reason or nature. Scotus and Ockham, who we will be looking at in this chapter, held this view. The debate between the two approaches had far-reaching implications on almost every area theology. Most importantly for philosophers, it determined the degree to which theology should rely on philosophical reasoning (intellectualism) versus revelation and faith (voluntarism).

When addressing specifically questions about the foundation of morality, intellectualists held that moral principles originate from reason, and God holds to them through his rational intellect. God does not literally author moral standards, but instead endorses moral standards that are independently grounded in reason. These standards have a rational quality in and of themselves, and God, as a rational being, has a kinship with all rational principles, including standards of morality. Since God created humans as rational creatures, we, too, have the capacity to rationally grasp these moral principles. By contrast, voluntarists held that moral principles are purely creations of God's will, and are not grounded in anything else, not even reason or an externally existing rational standard. In recent years this voluntarist position on the origin of morality often goes by the name of "divine command theory," as we will call it in this chapter.

SCOTUS'S DIVINE COMMAND THEORY

One of the great defenders of divine command theory in the Middle Ages was Scottish-born philosopher John Duns Scotus (1266–1308), whose views are a good model for understanding divine command by other philosophers.

Scotus's Theory

There are two components to Scotus's view. First, he believed that God has a genuinely free will in the sense that God could have willed things differently than he actually did. Suppose, for example, that God willed to create the planet Mars at a specific point in time. At the precise moment that he willed to make Mars, God could have willed instead to not create it. A genuinely free will, for Scotus, is unconstrained by prior reasons or causes. Using more contemporary philosophical terminology we would say that God has the ability to have done otherwise.

The second component of Scotus's view is that God has absolute power in the sense that God can bring about anything that he wants, so long as it does not involve a logical contradiction. He makes this point here:

God, therefore, insofar as he is able to act in accord with those right laws he set up previously, is said to act according to his ordained power. But insofar as he is able to do many things that are not in accord with, but go beyond, these [divinely] pre-established laws, God is said to act according to his absolute power. For God can do anything that is not self-contradictory or act in any way that does not include a contradiction (and there are many such ways he could act); and then he is said to be acting according to his absolute power. [Oxford Commentary, 1.44, tr. Allan B. Wolter]

In this passage, Scotus explains that God has two kinds of powers: ordained and absolute. Ordained power involves a basic ability for God to act in accord with laws that he previously sets up, such as laws of salvation or laws of physics. By contrast, God's absolute power involves a stronger ability to act contrary to his previously established laws, and God can do this in any way that he wants, so long as there is no logical contradiction. A statement is logically contradictory when it both asserts and denies the same thing. Take, for example, the statement that "John is a married bachelor." Since the definition of "bachelor" includes being unmarried, this statement is contradictory insofar as it implies that John is both married and unmarried. Similarly, the statement "John has a tattoo of a round square" is contradictory since it implies that a specific shape simultaneously contains and lacks 90–degree angles. Thus, even with his absolute power, God could not make a "married bachelor" or a "round square" since these are contradictory notions.

When we combine God's free will with his absolute power, we see that God is free to do what he wants and that he has the power to do it, so long as there are no logical contradictions. We can better understand the scope of God's free will and absolute power by considering three kinds of laws:

• Physical laws, such as the law of gravity.

• Mathematical laws, such as "2 + 2 = 4".

• Logical laws, such as the law of identity (the Empire State Building is the Empire State Building).

According to Scotus, God's absolute power gives him control over some of these laws, but not others. That is, he has control over physical laws, but not mathematical or logical ones. Concerning physical laws, Scotus quickly grants that God has creative control over the structure of the physical world and the rules that govern it. For any physical law that we pick, such as gravity, God could have made it differently without logical contradiction. For example, it would not be logically contradictory for physical objects to be repelled by each other, rather than gravitationally attracted. However, mathematical and logical laws are unlike physical laws: they cannot be different from what they are now without logical contradiction. It is logically absurd to say that 2 plus 2 equal 5, or that the Empire State Building is not identical to itself. Since Scotus holds that God cannot perform logically contradictory tasks, he would reject the view that God has power over mathematics and logic.

When we turn to the issue of moral laws, we must determine whether they are more like (a) physical laws, which God has control over, or (b) mathematical and logical laws, which God does not. Scotus believes that moral laws are more like physical laws, which God does have control over. For Scotus, God first freely wills a specific conception of morality and then institutes these values through his absolute power. He creates these without reliance on any preexisting external standards, and he implants knowledge of them in our human nature.

Scotus's divine command theory creates a paradox: If morality is a creation of God's will, then God could will whatever moral values he wants, even the exact opposite of present moral values. For example, although God in fact mandates that stealing is wrong, he could have made stealing morally permissible. So, too, for killing, lying, and marital infidelity. Therefore, God's moral commands seem arbitrary. Scotus is willing to accept this paradox and all of its strange implications. In fact, he believes that at specific points in history God actually did reverse the rules of morality to suit his own special purposes. He draws attention to three particular stories from the Hebrew Bible in which several of the Hebrew patriarchs commit seemingly immoral acts at God's command.

To kill, to steal, to commit adultery, are against the precepts of the decalogue, as is clear from Exodus [20:13]: "You shall not kill" [etc.]. Yet God seems to have dispensed from these. This is clear in regard to homicide from Genesis 22, regarding Abraham and the son he was about to sacrifice; or for theft from Exodus 11 [: 2] and [12: 35] where he ordered the sons of Israel to despoil the Egyptians, which despoilment is taking what belongs to another without the owner's consent, which is the definition of theft. As for the third, there is Hosea 1: "Make children of fornications." [Oxford Commentary, 3.37]

These three stories are often referred to as the "immoralities of the patriarchs." The first one depicts how God commands Abraham to offer his son as a human sacrifice. At the last minute, as Abraham raises his knife, God provides an animal as a substitute. Nevertheless, Abraham's intent is already fixed, and he attempts to carry out the act in accord with God's will. The second story relates how, just before the Israelites leave Egypt, God commands them to steal vessels from their Egyptian neighbors. In the third story, God commands Hosea to have sex with an adulteress.

Scotus believes that these are genuine examples of God granting a special dispensation or privilege for these people. By allowing such exceptions, God is temporarily revoking a specific moral law and setting up a new and possibly opposite standard in its place. Scotus writes,

Any legislator dispenses unconditionally when he revokes a precept of positive law made by himself. He does not allow the prohibited act or precept to remain as before, but removes the prohibition or makes what was formerly illicit now licit. [Oxford Commentary, 3.37]

Scotus concludes that God could alter virtually all of the moral laws if he wanted. The only exceptions are moral laws involving our subservience to God, such as the commands to love, worship and obey God. To alter these, God would need to stop being the infinitely great God that he is, and because doing so would be in contradiction to God's nature, God cannot do this.

To recap, these are the main points of Scotus's divine command theory:

• God has a genuinely free will, which is unconstrained by prior reasons or causes.

• God has absolute power insofar as he can do anything that is logically possible.

• Moral standards are creations of God's will, and God can alter them without logical contradiction.

• Some biblical stories depict God revoking previously established moral standards.

Scotus's theory as described above contains two central arguments for divine command theory: (1) an argument from revoking established moral standards and (2) an argument from absolute power. We will examine each of these in turn.

The Argument from Revoking Established Moral Standards

We've seen that Scotus argues that the Bible gives us examples of how God temporarily revokes previously established moral standards for special purposes. Since God has the ability to revoke these standards, this implies that these standards are creations of God. Put more precisely, the argument is this:

(1) If God has the ability to temporarily revoke a moral standard, then he has the power to freely create moral standards.

(2) Some divinely inspired texts depict God as temporarily revoking a previously established moral standard.

(3) Therefore, God has the power to freely create moral standards.

The success of this argument depends on the truth of premises 1 and 2.

Premise 1 makes the basic claim that, if someone has the power to revoke a standard, then that person had the initial power to create that standard. This is a reasonable assumption. Suppose, for example, that the state of California decided to raise the speed limit on its highways from 70 miles per hour to 80 miles per hour. If state government officials have the authority to revoke the 70-mile-per-hour limit, then it is reasonable to assume they are the ones who created that speed limit to begin with. Scotus addresses this point when describing the distinction between God's two kinds of powers. With his ordained power, God can establish basic laws, such as that of gravity. With his absolute power, though, God is able to move beyond the laws that he has previously established, and even go against them if he so chooses. For Scotus, then, God's power to revoke a law is tied with his power to create a law, and premise 1 is fine.

Premise 2 states that some divinely inspired texts depict God as temporarily revoking a previously established moral standard. The biblical stories of the immoralities of the patriarchs seem to be examples of this. One problem with these cases is that they carry weight only for believers within religious traditions that recognize the authority of specific scriptures. In the case of stories from the Hebrew Bible, these principally carry weight for Jews and Christians, who constitute only a minority of the world's population. Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, and members of other religions might find these stories interesting but not authoritative.

For the sake of argument, let's confine our discussion to the stories from the Hebrew Bible and to the Jews and Christians who see these stories as authoritative. Even so, there is still a second problem with premise 2: These cases do not conclusively illustrate God revoking moral standards. Take, for example, the story of Abraham preparing to kill his son. Although murder is certainly wrong, it is often difficult to determine whether an act of killing is unjustified to the point that it constitutes murder. If an intruder breaks into my house and threatens my family, I may be justified in killing him and, so, it may not count as murder per se. To determine if an act of killing rises to the level of murder, we must examine the context of a person's act and consider his or her motivations.

If Abraham slaughtered his son for no good reason, then that would certainly appear to be murder. Medieval philosopher Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) also examines the Abraham story, along with the other two immoralities of the patriarchs. For Aquinas, Abraham does have a reason for preparing to kill his son, and this reason involves God's ultimate role in the life-and-death process:

All men alike, both guilty and innocent, die the death of nature: which death of nature is inflicted by the power of God on account of original sin, according to 1 Kings 2:6: "The Lord killeth and maketh alive." Consequently, by the command of God, death can be inflicted on any man, guilty or innocent, without any injustice whatever. [Summa Theologica, 1a-2ae, q. 94.5]

According to Aquinas, God has ultimate authority over when and how anyone dies. Therefore, although it might be wrong for Abraham to kill his son on his own, it would not be wrong for him to carry out God's orders since God is and always was the final authority over human life.

Aquinas similarly rationalizes the situations of the Israelites' leaving town with the property of their Egyptian neighbors and Hosea sleeping with an adulteress. Once again, although stealing and adultery are immoral, Aquinas argues that God ultimately owns all property and spouses, and he can assign them to whomever he wants. Even if we do not agree with Aquinas's precise explanations, his larger point is still valid: The biblical stories do not conclusively depict God revoking previously established moral standards. There will always be ways to explain the patriarchs' motives which absolve them of moral crime. Thus, there are problems with premise 2 that force us to reject the argument from revoking established moral standards.

The Argument from Absolute Power

Scotus offers a second argument for the position that God freely creates moral standards, an argument that is grounded in the notion of absolute power. If God has absolute power, then he can do anything, including create moral principles in any way that he sees fit. The more precise argument is this:

(1) If a being is absolutely powerful, then that being can freely create moral standards, so long as they are without contradiction.

(2) God is absolutely powerful.

(3) Therefore, God can freely create moral standards, so long as they are without contradiction.

Again, the success of this argument rests on the truth of both premises 1 and 2.

Premise 1 draws on Scotus's notion of absolute power, namely the ability to do anything that does not involve a contradiction. Premise 1 also claims that, in principle, moral standards can be created and altered in various ways without logical contradiction. For example, according to Scotus, it is not logically contradictory to state that "some acts of murder, theft, and adultery are morally obligatory." Suppose that we define the notions of "murder," "theft" and "adultery" in the most damning way, with malice aforethought, criminal intent, and guilty mind. Even so, there is still no logical contradiction such as we find in the statement "John is a married bachelor." The reason is that, for Scotus, the notion of moral obligation is linked to what God freely wills. Suppose that I say "It is morally obligatory for John to murder someone." This, at its very worst, translates into "God freely willed John to kill someone with malice aforethought, criminal intent, and guilty mind." There is no contradiction here. We may object that there is a better way to define the notion of moral obligation than what Scotus offers. But that does not matter. Premise 1 presents us only with a possibility: "if a being is absolutely powerful. . . ." That is, if we assume that an absolutely powerful being exists, it follows that that being can, without logical contradiction, morally obligate John to murder someone. Premise 1, then, is acceptable. That is, moral standards might be created and altered in various ways without logical contradiction.

The success of this argument, then, rests on premise 2: God is absolutely powerful. According to this premise, there exists a God who has the power to do anything that does not involve a logical contradiction. Should we accept this premise? There are three problems with it. First, on its face, it is an argument geared towards believers. Nonbelievers would certainly reject it, in which case the argument stops here dead in its tracks. However, let's proceed with the believer in mind. Should the believer accept that God is absolutely powerful? Medieval philosophers devised proofs to demonstrate that there exists a God that has infinitely great qualities, including the power to do all logically possible things. Scotus himself formulated one of the most elaborate proofs ever for God's existence. Suppose, though, that we are not convinced by such proofs, or that we are not even interested in spending countless hours wading through the details of these proofs to see if they work. The second problem with this premise, then, is that the believer himself may not have good reason or adequate proof to accept the truth of premise 2.

But let's still proceed further. The believer might instead wish simply to accept as a matter of personal faith that God has absolute power. For traditional believers, the idea of a God with limited power does not make much sense. Who would want to believe in a puny God with restricted abilities? Instead, a dedicated believer motivated by a sense of devotion might want to attribute as much power to God as possible, including creative power over moral principles. So, a strong sense of religious devotion might incline the believer to accept premise 2. However, the justification for premise 2 now hinges on the particular wants and motives for belief in a God with absolute power. This, then, leads to the third problem with premise 2: the believer's faith-based belief in divine absolute power may be based on motives that are less than admirable. Perhaps it is only wishful thinking, just as we might hope to hit the big lottery jackpot.

Perhaps it is also motivated by what we might call spiritual gluttony, the desire to heap greater and greater qualities onto God. How much power must we ascribe to God before we are psychologically content in our devotion toward him? A believer may certainly be compelled to believe in a God who is very powerful, such as the ancient Greeks did with Zeus who they believed was powerful, but not absolutely powerful. But as the believer heaps more and more powerful abilities on God, there is a point at which ascribing that extra power is unnecessary for spiritual contentment and even collapses into something like self-indulgence. Suppose, for example, that I love to eat apples, and for the next month I vow to eat nothing but apples. During this one-month period, there would be physical limits to the number of apples I could eat, say, about 1000 apples. Suppose, too, that a local apple grower decides to support my efforts during that one-month period and drops off a truckload of 1000 apples. Ungraciously, I protest, "That's not good enough, and I demand 2000 apples even though I will not be able to eat them all!" Like my desire for more apples than I can eat, a believer can stipulate more divine power than the believer either understands or actually needs to be spiritually satisfied. Anything beyond that is a kind of spiritual gluttony.

Whether it is from wishful thinking or spiritual gluttony, the desire to believe in a God with absolute power might be driven in part by personal craving. The Hindu Bhagavad Gita discusses the role that such craving can play in the mind of the believer, such as heavenly rewards, and maintains that it is the least admirable form of religious faith:

The foolish utter flowery speech, and rejoice in the letter of the Vedas [i.e., Hindu scriptures]. For them there is nothing but a desire for the self with only the intent on reaching heaven. (Bhagavad Gita, 2)

This passage condemns established religious practices that are rooted in the believer's selfish desires. The Bhagavad Gita recommends that we distance ourselves from any personal benefit that our faith might give us. Although traditional Christians may resist taking spiritual advice from Hindu texts, this particular point in the Bhagavad Gita is universal: selfish interests should not guide faith. Accordingly, it is not appropriate for us to grant God creative power over moral principles when we are merely motivated by wishful thinking, spiritual gluttony, or heavenly rewards. This is especially so when we are talking about religiously-based moral judgments that impact others in society, such as the moral beliefs of the Underwear Bomber.

Certainly there are believers who will have purer motives and still be compelled to accept premise 2. Nevertheless, at this stage we can conclude that the truth or acceptance of premise 2 is by no means clear, either for the non-believer or even the believer. Thus, the success of the argument from absolute power remains in question.

Divine Command Theory After Scotus

Scotus's conviction that God could change the rules of morality was bold and controversial. But, as we have seen, he stopped short by saying that God could not reverse the moral command that we should love God. For Scotus, it would be logically contradictory for God to command people to not worship him, and this is something that even God cannot do. But shortly after Scotus, English-born philosopher William of Ockham (1285–1349) pushed the conclusions of divine command theory further than Scotus did. Ockham believed that God could revoke virtually any moral law he wanted. For example, Ockham argued that, although God will in fact punish us for being immoral, nothing requires him to do so. And, supposing that we did not repent, God could still grant us forgiveness and not punish us, if that's what God wanted to do. Taking this a step further he argued that, although God commands us to love him, God could command us to hate him instead:

Every will can conform to the commands of God. God can, however, command a created will to hate Him. Therefore, the created will can do this. Moreover, any act that can be just on earth could also be just in heaven. On earth the hatred of God can be just, if it is commanded by God Himself. Therefore, the hatred of God could also be just in heaven. [Fourth Book of the Sentences, 13, tr., Lucan Freppert]

Ockham argues here that, if God did command us to hate him, then this would in fact be the morally right thing to do. This statement was so controversial that it contributed to his excommunication from the Catholic Church in 1328.

In the centuries after Scotus and Ockham, the debate between divine command theory and intellectualism became even more heated. The dispute became so central to ethical theory that virtually every moral philosopher, Catholic or Protestant, felt compelled to weigh in on whether morality is a creation of God's will. One of the more influential philosophers on the intellectualist side was Hugo Grotius (1583–1645), who argued that God cannot change moral standards:

The [moral] law of nature, again, is unchangeable—even in the sense that it cannot be changed by God. Measureless as is the power of God, nevertheless it can be said that there are certain things over which that power does not extend; for things of which this is said are spoken only, having no sense corresponding with reality and being mutually contradictory. Just as even God, then, cannot cause that two times two should not make four, so he cannot cause that that which is intrinsically evil be not evil. [Law of War and Peace, 1.10.5]

In this passage, Grotius appears to accept the notion of God's absolute power as Scotus defined it, namely, the ability to do anything that is not logically contradictory. However, Grotius rejects divine command theory by suggesting that moral laws are similar to mathematical laws, which cannot be altered without logical contradiction. As we've seen, divine command theorists such as Scotus believe that moral laws are more like physical laws, which can be changed without contradiction. Grotius, then, does not technically ascribe less power to God's abilities, but instead elevates the status of moral standards, placing them beyond God's reach. Grotius even makes the bold claim that natural law would still have some validity even if "we conceded that there is no God" (ibid, Prolegomena).

Although Grotius rejected divine command theory per se, believed that God's will still plays at least some role in morality. For, God willed to implant the essential traits of sociability within every person, by which we understand through our reason what the moral law is.

CRITICISMS OF DIVINE COMMAND THEORY

So far we've rejected both the argument from revoking established moral standards and the argument from absolute power. However, it is important to note that even if both of these arguments fail, this does not necessarily mean that divine command theory is false. It only means that these specific two arguments fail as proofs for the view that morality is a creation of God's will. But critics have gone a step further and presented arguments directly against divine command theory, and we will look at four of these.

Cudworth's Criticism: Morality becomes Arbitrary

One of the most prominent criticisms of divine command theory is that it makes the standards of morality completely arbitrary. According to divine command theory, the foundation of all morality is the willful choice of God, which stands independently of any influence of reason. God's choice is not based on an externally-existing standard of morality, such as the Forms, and it is not grounded in God's rational capacity. Rather, it flows only from God's choice, pure and simple. We cannot even say that God would choose a reasonable set of moral standards, since that would make God depend upon an independent standard of what counts as "reasonable." But, according to divine command theory, the buck stops with God's will. This means that he can will any moral standards that he wants, completely unconstrained by reason, the moral forms, or any other consideration. Ralph Cudworth (1617-1688) presents this criticism here:

certain it is, that diverse modern theologers do not only seriously, but zealously contend. . . that there is nothing absolutely, intrinsically, and naturally good and evil, just and unjust, antecedently to any positive command or prohibition of God; but that the arbitrary will of God. . . by its commands and prohibitions, is the first and only rule and measure thereof. Whence it follows unavoidably, that nothing can be imagined so grossly wicked, or so foully unjust or dishonest, but if it were supposed to be commanded by this Omnipotent Deity, must needs upon that hypothesis forthwith become holy, just and righteous. [A Treatise Concerning Eternal and Immutable Morality 1.1.3]

In the above, Cudworth says that defenders of divine command theory deny that anything is morally good or bad in and of itself, and that it is only God's arbitrary act of the will that defines the moral status of any action. The problem with divine command theory, as Cudworth sees it, it does away with science and demonstration, and make it such that the truth of mathematical or metaphysical propositions could only be known by some revelation of the will of God. Truth and falsehood would be mere names, and we could not even have certainty in the knowledge of God himself. Further, divine command theory it elevates God's will to the point that it eclipses all other divine attributes, including divine wisdom (1.3.5-6).

Is divine command theory as arbitrary as Cudworth suggests? One possible response to his criticism is to say that, while God can arbitrarily create morality, he is actually influenced by his other attributes of love and wisdom and, thus has dictated a compassionate and reasonable set of moral standards. But this will not help. According to divine command theory, God's will surpasses all of his other attributes. Even if he was guided by his love or wisdom, he would be deferring to some standard outside of his will, which is precisely what the theory of intellectualism holds. What is central to divine command theory is God's unconstrained will, and this excludes appeals to other sources of moral value, such as love or wisdom.

The best response to Cudworth's criticism is to first simply concede the fundamental point that God arbitrarily dictated moral standards. That being settled, the defender of divine command theory might then attempt to judge the reasonableness of those standards from our own human perspective. Did God do a good job with his selection of moral principles? Do any seem irrational? Are there some that we wish he willed differently? What matters is whether we, as rational beings, feel that moral principles are decent ones and we can reasonably live with them. If so, then it is irrelevant whether those moral principles are dictates of God's will or his reason. It may seem odd to say that God arbitrarily selected moral values that we as humans find reasonable. But this is no odder than belief in God itself. A running theme in religions across the globe is that God is a mystery: the divine being is beyond human comprehension, and we cannot fully understand divine actions. If this mystery is a given within religions, then it seems unfair to penalize divine command theory for tracing morality back to the mysterious divine nature. For divine command theorists, the mystery is not within the moral principles themselves, but within God's nature.

Leibniz's Criticism: Divine Goodness becomes Meaningless

A second common criticism of divine command theory is that if God does create moral goodness, then we cannot meaningfully say about God himself that "God is morally good." German philosopher Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz (1646-1716) makes this point here:

In saying… that things are not good according to any standard of goodness, but simply by the will of God, it seems to me that one destroys, without realizing it, all the love of God and all his glory; for why praise him for what he has done, if he would be equally praiseworthy in doing the contrary? [Discourse on Metaphysics, 2]

According to divine command theory, "moral goodness" simply means "that which God wills," as expressed in this definition:

"X is morally good" means "X does that which God wills."

There may be other possible wordings of this definition that highlight different aspects of divine command theory, but for our purposes this one is sufficient. This definition by itself does not present problems when we make moral statements about humans. Suppose, for example, that I say, "John is morally good." Based on the above definition of moral goodness, this statement translates as "John does that which God wills," and this is a perfectly meaningful statement. However, suppose that I next say, "God is morally good." Based on the above definition of moral goodness, this statement translates as "God does that which he wills", that is, God simply lives up to his own standards. Here the notion of divine moral goodness is lost. If divine command theory is true, then moral statements about God are not nearly as meaningful as moral statements about humans.

According to Leibniz, then, the divine command theorist implicitly abandons any meaningful notion of divine moral goodness. This is a problem since, as Leibniz suggests, without a substantive concept of moral goodness, God would not be much more than an all-powerful bully who imposes his will on everyone.

But the divine command theorist has a way out: the statement "God does what he wills" is embedded with other notions that believers will find meaningful. Let's assume that moral goodness is indeed defined by God's will. That is, assume that all moral standards and values are tied directly with God's will, with no independent reference outside of it. This will include all moral principles that we currently recognize, such as prohibitions against lying, stealing and murder, and duties to be benevolent and charitable. The key question, then, is whether God practices what he preaches. That is, does he also follow the list of moral principles that he mandates for us? It is possible that he sets different standards for humans than for himself. For example, maybe he has willed that humans should not lie, but at the same time wills that it is OK for God himself to lie. Answering the question of whether God practices what he preaches is impossible since it would require reading the divine mind. We cannot read the minds of other humans, and it is all the more difficult with a transcendent being whose very existence cannot be known with certainty.

However, this simple question of whether God practices what he preaches allows us to modify the divine command theorist's definition of divine goodness, using some basic principles of logic. To say that "God is morally good" also means the following:

God does what he wills, and he either follows the same set of standards that he has set for humans or he does not.

On first glance this may seem as empty as the original statement that "God does what he wills," since the added clause merely says that "God may or may not practice what he preaches." But there is an important difference. When believers' lives are ravaged by tragedy, they often wonder how God could have permitted their suffering, and whether he acts compassionately and justly just as he commands of us. They are in essence asking whether God practices what he preaches. The above modified statement holds open the possibility that God does follow the same set of standards that he sets for us. As an act of faith, the believer will give God the benefit of the doubt and say that he does. This presumption may be false if God does not follow the same standards that he sets for us. But the very question of whether he practices what he preaches is one which sparks a faith response that makes the notion of divine goodness as meaningful as any other commitment of religious faith. In short, divine command theory does not make the notion of divine goodness as meaningless as the critic maintains. To be clear, this response does not refute Leibniz's criticism. Rather, it bypasses his criticism by shifting the issue from moral metaphysics to the psychology of religious faith.

Bentham's Criticism: Revelation is an Unclear Indicator of God's Will

A third criticism of divine command theory is that it wrongly supposes that we can easily identify the will of God and his moral commands. Assuming that God does create some kind of moral standard that we need to follow, there needs to be some way that we can gain knowledge of this. Granted, the divine command theorist will say that God communicates his will through both scripture and personal revelation. He has made record of his laws and expectations in sacred texts, and by studying these we can know what he wills. He also speaks directly to believers through an inner conviction, a quiet voice, or pangs of conscience. Between scripture and personal revelation, we learn everything we need to know about God's intentions. However, says the critic, both of these avenues are too imprecise to offer clear guidance. The Underwear Bomber himself appealed to scripture when claiming that God commanded him and others to kill religious heretics. Scriptures require interpretation, and the mere fact that there are so many religions and denominations within those religions speaks to how difficult precise interpretation is. Personal revelation is even more unreliable, and we are normally suspicious of people who claim that God spoke to them. Frequently, claims to be morally guided by God are thinly veiled attempts to justify one's private moral biases, such as claiming that interracial marriages are against the will of God.

The point of this criticism is that scripture and personal revelation are such unclear indicators of God's will, that we actually need some prior standard of moral judgment that is independent of God. For example, when the Underwear Bomber claims that scripture tells us that it is God's will for believers to kill heretics, we need some prior conception of morality to judge that specific text to see if it really means this. English philosopher Jeremy Bentham argues this here:

The will of God here meant cannot be his revealed will, as contained in the sacred writings. . . . [since] it is universally allowed, by the most eminent divines of all persuasions, to stand in need of pretty ample interpretations; else to what use are the works of those divines? And for the guidance of these interpretations, it is also allowed, that some other standard must be assumed. [Principles of Morals and Legislation, 2.13]

This prior conception of morality, then, must be independent of God and God's revelation itself. Further, Bentham argues, the believer's choice to worship God shows that the believer is using an independent standard of goodness by which he deems God worthy of worship. Even if the believer claims that through faith alone he believes God is worthy of worship, at some level the believer is appealing to an independent standard of goodness.

This criticism cannot easily be brushed aside, and, short of God himself appearing before the world and stipulating his will, there will always be room to doubt claims to know the will of God. While divine command theorists may not be able to fully overcome this criticism, they do have a response. The task of discovering God's will is not primarily one for individual believers, such as the Underwear Bomber. Rather, it is the task of moral and religious traditions that extend back many generations. These traditions contain a history of thoughtful reflection on how scriptures should be interpreted, and how we should understand personal revelations. Every world religion and religious denomination is shaped by its own tradition and history, and that becomes the standard by which they determine the will of God. Generally speaking, religions acknowledge that function of their tradition, and maintain that's how God wants it. Again, this does not fully remove the difficulty in identifying the will of God, since even here we can always ask whether a given religious tradition is making the proper judgment calls. However, it removes the task from individual people with their private biases, inconsistencies, and emotional problems.

Hume's Criticism: It is Impossible to Know the Moral Qualities of God

A fourth criticism of divine command theory was suggested by Scottish philosopher David Hume (1711-1776). For Hume, it is impossible for us to know the moral qualities of God, and, consequently, we should not use God as a reference for our human standards of morality. When we read a book, he says, we can enter the author's mind and grasp their intentions. But there is nothing analogous that enables us to gain any access into the mind of God. God's ways are simply not our ways, and his attributes, while perfect, are beyond our comprehension. Ancient philosophers such as Plotinus went even further and held that we shouldn't even ascribe understanding to God. For Hume, when we try to make God comprehensible and similar to a human mind, "we are guilty of the grossest and most narrow partiality, and make ourselves the model of the whole universe" (Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion, Section 3). For example, all of our ideas from sensory experiences are fundamentally flawed and even illusory; how could such imperfect perceptions possibly apply to a supreme intelligence? Our internal thoughts and feelings, combined with our sensory input, make up the entirety of human understanding. None of this, Hume says, can be similar to divine intelligence. So too with the nature of human thought itself. It is "fluctuating, uncertain, fleeting, successive, and compounded" (Ibid.). If we were to remove these characteristics, we'd essentially destroy what thought is. While out of reverence we might still use words like "thought" or "reason" when talking about God, Hume argues that we have to admit that we have no real idea what these words mean in that context.

Consider now, he says, the human sentiments that form the core of morality, such as gratitude, love, friendship, approval, blame, pity. The problem is precisely the same since these are all tied to our specific human situations. They are designed to help us survive and thrive in our particular circumstances. "It seems, therefore, unreasonable to transfer such sentiments to a supreme existence, or to suppose him actuated by them and it doesn't make sense to attribute these same feelings to a supreme being" (Ibid.).

Here are two possible responses to Hume's criticism. First, Hume may be underestimating the capacity of human reason and intuition. Throughout history, humans have demonstrated remarkable abilities to understand complex and abstract concepts. If Hume could see the achievements of modern science and technology, he might reconsider his position. For example, the development of artificial intelligence represents a near god-like ability to create and understand complex systems. This technology, which would have been unimaginable in Hume's time, demonstrates humanity's capacity to create systems that mimic aspects of cognition we once thought unique to humans or even divine beings. A running theme in science fiction is that when technologically advanced civilizations encounter primitive planets, the inhabitants think their high-tech visitors are divine beings. But now that that we ourselves are becoming that technologically advanced civilization, we may be getting closer to projecting beyond ourselves to a more meaningful view of what divine intelligence might be like. While we may not fully grasp the divine, our cognitive abilities might be more capable than Hume suggests.

A second response is that Hume overlooks proposed moral principles that could potentially apply to both human and divine realms. These moral principles might bridge the gap between human and divine morality that he thought insurmountable. Hume himself grounded morality in human mental feelings, and it makes sense that, for him, our humanity was a barrier that prevented morality from extending beyond ourselves. Ethical theories today, though, emphasize moral principles that could apply to any rational being, human or divine. For example, the principle of universalizability tells us that a moral action or rule should be applicable to all people in similar circumstances. That of moral personhood tells us to avoid causing harm to others in our actions, whether human or non-human. That of fairness tells us to make decisions as if we didn't know our place in society. Hume is correct that we will never know for sure what notions of morality a divine being might have, assuming a divine being exists. However, moral principles like these suggest a common ethical ground that could potentially extend beyond human experience.

LINGERING ISSUES WITH RELIGIOUS ETHICS

So far we have seen that the arguments supporting divine command theory fail, but so do the criticisms of it by Cudworth, Leibniz, Bentham and Hume. Thus, the jury is still out about the overall viability of the theory. Divine command theorists and intellectualists differed about whether God creates moral standards, but both held equally that God is an important component in morality. Virtually no one publicly questioned the existence of God until the eighteenth century, and philosophers commonly held that no true atheists either did exist or could exist. So, the climate was well suited for mixing morality and religious belief. Since the eighteenth century, however, the tables have turned regarding the connection between religion and morality. Scientifically-minded moral philosophers of the eighteenth century like Hume and Bentham attempted to create a science of ethics, which, like the physical sciences, stands independently of religious doctrines. During the nineteenth-century, several philosophers and scientists publicly affirmed atheism or agnosticism, and this further established a secular agenda for moral philosophy. We've inherited this secular agenda, and an academic book on ethics published today might not mention "God" even once. In recent years, the tables have turned against religious morality so much that contemporary moral philosophers view with suspicion, simply dismiss, or even ridicule those who vocalize any religious ethics. What, though, is so bad today about linking morality with God? Even if society will never again return to a time when religious ethics will dominate, might there be some room for believers to exercise their views within public ethical discourse?

Secular Criticisms of Religious Morality

Secular moral theorists do not seem upset with the aspects of religious ethics that aim to reinforce traditional morality with the component of divine punishment, such as by saying that God will punish thieves. The big problem for critics, though, is when believers merely stipulate that God morally endorses a particular type of conduct. For example, the Underwear Bomber claimed that he was simply following God's command to kill. The mere mention of this is likely to make anyone cringe, believer and nonbeliever alike. Critics of religious ethics have the same negative response when believers appeal to God's authority concerning a wide range of moral issues, such as abortion, homosexuality, interracial marriages, and handgun ownership. When pressed, the believer might justify his views by appealing to the Bible, to religious tradition, or to his religious conscience. Again, though, we must ask, what is so bad about this? There are three problems that the critic of religious ethics might point out; we will note these, plus responses that the believer might give to these criticisms.

First, according to critics of religious ethics, appealing to religious intuitions on moral issues is a conversation stopper. We would like to at least open a dialogue on an issue, but we cannot if the believer quickly appeals to his foundational and non-negotiable religious assumption. In response, the believer maintains that there is room for dialogue within his religious tradition but that the critic stops the conversation with her secular viewpoint. In one fell swoop, the critic shuts off an entire range of religious-based discourse because of her own foundational and non-negotiable secular assumptions. If there is a stoppage of conversation, says the believer, much of the fault rests with the critic.

Second, the critic might argue that the believer's chain of reasoning is not long enough and rests too quickly on his foundational religious assumption. Proper ethical decisions involve detailed reasoning, but the typical believer has a one-step reasoning process. Abortion, for example, is wrong because the believer's religious intuitions tell him so. In response, other nonreligious moral theories also have a one-step reasoning process. A utilitarian, for example, might argue that it is wrong to torture animals since this increases the quantity of pain in the world. A rights theorist might argue that stealing a car is wrong since it violates individuals' property rights. What is relevant in these cases is (1) the strength of the initial moral standard, such as the importance of reducing pain, and (2) the applicability of the moral standard to a given issue, such as torturing animals. So, if we dismiss religious ethics because it involves a one-step reasoning process, then we must also dismiss many secular theories for also being one-step reasoning processes.

Finally, the critic might argue that the believer blindly perpetuates bigotry when pronouncing, for example, that God commands men to be in charge of women, or God is against interracial marriage, or God despises gays. In response, bigotry is certainly bad, but if there is a link between bigotry and religious ethics, it is at most a sociological connection, and not a logical one. Religious intuitions do not logically entail that believers should single out and unjustly condemn specific groups of people. And even from a sociological perspective, it is not immediately clear that believers in religious ethics tend more toward bigotry than does the population as a whole. Unless such a connection can be established through responsible sociological studies, then it is bigotry itself to dismiss proponents of religious ethics as bigots simply on the basis of a hunch.

Secular moral theorists may be bothered by appeals to religious intuitions for additional reasons. But, secularists are not justified in declaring a monopoly on the field of ethics by restricting it to only nonreligious approaches, which have appeared only recently within history and are geographically confined mostly to Western culture.

Limits of Religious Appeals

Even if secular moral theorists have overstated their resistance to religious ethics, there are still limits to religious appeals in moral matters, three of which we will consider. First, religious approaches to morality will not be binding for nonbelievers. For, non-believers are people who consciously question or reject fundamental points about religion, such as divine revelation, the afterlife, and God's existence. It is unrealistic to expect them to adopt a religion-based moral system. Nonbelievers might still find some value to religious morality, insofar as the larger message of religion-based ethics is that moral standards are given to us from an authority outside of us individually. Just as children receive their moral notions from their parents, we as adults retain the sense that moral standards come from an authority outside of us. For the nonbeliever this external authority is society and social traditions that extend back thousands of years. Perhaps nonbelievers might even appreciate divine command theory as a metaphor for this mysterious social tradition of our past that has handed us the brute facts of our current moral codes. Still, nonbelievers cannot be expected to embrace a religious approach to morality, any more than a Christian can be expected to embrace a Hindu, Buddhist or Muslim ethical system.

Second, in public debates about morality, appeals to religion are often unhelpful. What is important in a successful public debate is to find some neutral ground from which to make one's case, and religion is not neutral. In today's secular environment, the religious believer limits his audience by appealing to religious intuitions in moral matters. For example, if I debate the issue of women's rights with a Muslim and he appeals to the Koran to support his perspective, his appeal will carry little weight for me. If you watch news commentators and political pundits who personally believe in God, they usually discipline themselves to avoid talking about God or religion on social policy issues. Instead, they look for other more universal arguments to support their positions. Barak Obama, before he was president, made this point in a speech on the connection between religion and politics:

Democracy demands that the religiously motivated translate their concerns into universal, rather than religion-specific, values. It requires that their proposals be subject to argument, and amenable to reason. I may be opposed to abortion for religious reasons, but if I seek to pass a law banning the practice, I cannot simply point to the teachings of my church or evoke God's will. I have to explain why abortion violates some principle that is accessible to people of all faiths, including those with no faith at all. This is going to be difficult for some who believe in the inerrancy of the Bible, as many evangelicals do. But in a pluralistic democracy, we have no choice. Politics depends on our ability to persuade each other of common aims based on a common reality. ["Address on Faith and Politics," Sojourners, June 28, 2006]

The limited role of religion in public discussions on morality rests on a subtle distinction between (1) arguing to justify one's moral view, and (2) arguing to win a debate. Regarding the first point, religious and nonreligious moralists will have their own differing justifications for their moral convictions, and that is unavoidable. What is at issue with public discussions of morality is this second point, that is, how we should best debate the issue in a pluralistic society, and here appeals to more universally accepted moral intuitions is the best practice. In many ways, it is the public discussion of morality that matters most. We all have our own inner lives where we hold to unrealistic hopes and exaggerated fears on any number of personal topics, such as wealth, romance, self-worth, life after death, what it would be like to have super-powers. Speculations about the intangible foundations of morality fall into this category. These issues may be of private importance to us, and we might even find like-minded friends and organizations that share our inner beliefs. But we set these aside when we make contact with people of differing views at work or school, and, in this case, when participating in political discourse to make society a better place.

Third, believers should consider that there are limits to the authority of religious appeals even for the believers themselves. Interpretations of scripture change, religious organizations redefine their doctrines, and individuals' religious consciences often shift over the years. For example, throughout much of its long history, the Roman Catholic Church held that slavery was morally permissible since it reflected a natural hierarchy in social groups. In more recent times, though, it has condemned slavery. Several centuries ago, the Catholic Church and many early Protestant denominations believed that they were morally justified in torturing and killing vocal members of rival Christian denominations. Today this idea is appalling to all Christian groups. And when contraceptive devices became widely available in the early twentieth century, most Protestant denominations condemned their use since that would thwart God's plan for human reproduction. Within fifty years, though, most Protestant denominations reversed their views on contraception. So, even for the believer, religious assessments of moral matters should be viewed in light of this changing backdrop.

REFERENCES

Aquinas, Thomas. "The Treatise on Law" (la2ae, q. 90–144) in Summa Theologica, translataed by Laurence Shapcote, Fathers of the English Dominican Province (London, 1911–36).

Bentham, Jeremy. Principles of Morals and Legislation (1789), 2.13. Various editions.

Bhagavad Gita. Chapter 2. Various editions.

Cudworth, Ralph. A Treatise Concerning Eternal and Immutable Morality (1731), 1.1.3.

Grotius, Hugo. Law of War and Peace (1625), 1.10.5. Various editions.

Hume, David. Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion (1779). Various editions.

Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm. Discourse on Metaphysics (1656), 2. Various editions.

Ockham, William. Fourth Book of the Sentences, Question 14, as translated by Lucan Freppert in The Basis of Morality According to William Ockham (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1988).

Plato. Euthyphro, 10a-11b. Various editions.

Scotus, Duns. The Oxford Commentary on the Four Books of the Sentences, translated by Allan B. Wolter in Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1986).

STUDY QUESTIONS

Please answer all of the following questions.

1. What is the dilemma regarding the relation between God and morality that Plato presents in the Euthyphro?

2. What are the definitions of "intellectualism" and "divine command theory"?

3. What does Scotus mean by the view that God has a genuinely free will?

4. What does Scotus mean by "absolute power"?

5. For Scotus, what are the three kinds of laws, and which are moral laws most similar to?

6. Describe the immoralities of the patriarchs.

7. What is the argument from revoking established moral standards?

8. Premise 2 of the argument from revoking established moral standards is this: "Some divinely inspired texts depict God as temporarily revoking a previously established moral standard." What are the two criticisms of this?

9. What is the argument from absolute power?

10. Premise 2 of the argument from absolute power is this: "God is absolutely powerful." What are the three criticisms of this?

11. What is Cudworth's criticism of divine command theory?

12. What is the response to Cudworth's criticism given in the chapter?

13. What is Leibniz's criticism of divine command theory?

14. What is the response to Leibniz's criticism given in the chapter?

15. What is Bentham's criticism of divine command theory?

16. What is the response to Bentham's criticism given in the chapter?

17. What is Hume's criticism of divine command theory?

18. What is the response to Hume's criticism given in the chapter?

19. What are the three lingering problems with religious morality?

20. What are the three limitations of religious appeals to morality?

[Short Essay]

21. Short essay: pick any one of the following views in this chapter and criticize it in a minimum of 100 words. Scotus: God's absolute power, argument from revoking established moral standards, immoralities of the patriarchs, argument from absolute power; one of the responses to Cudworth, Bentham or Leibniz; secular criticisms of religious ethics; the limits of religious appeals in ethics.