I have been thinking for a while about the normative implications of Prinz’s theory. Prinz makes a number of remarks about this, though I wanted to add my own thoughts. We have previously discussed the claim that relativism entails a form of extreme tolerance – Prinz does not think this follows and neither do I, but that will not be my focus here. Instead, I will focus on the implications of relativism and the psychological claims Prinz presents for classical ethical theories such as utilitarianism, and whether a different theory could be constructed based on such considerations.
Of course, if relativism is correct, then there is no absolute moral truth. If, for instance, there is some sense in which utilitarianism is correct, it is a sense in which Kantianism, Aristotelian ethics, or the current teachings of the Catholic Church are correct – namely, it is correct for those who accept in the relevant way. There is a sense in which all theories are correct. However, as Prinz notes in next week’s reading (chapter 8), our moral beliefs can be analyzed, and not just in some empty sense like “your theory is wrong for me.” For instance, a theory may presuppose factual errors, or a person may hold inconsistent moral beliefs (the latter may not be true of a single principle theory like utilitarianism, but only a small portion of the population are genuine single principle theorists). He is also right to point out that consistency is not the only or even necessarily the most important virtue a theory can have – one can be consistent and evil.
Prinz’s psychological theory may also provide a lens through which moral theories can be analyzed, and which may show some to be deficient. For instance, Prinz argues that emotions play a critical role in learning moral theory, and that one who does not have the right emotions can never adequately understand morality. He cites psychopaths as an example. His claim is that because psychopaths are emotionally deficient, and because emotions play a critical role in moral education, they never really learn right from wrong, but instead come up with seemingly bizarre misunderstandings (for instance, conflating moral and conventional rules). If he is right, this would pose a major problem for views that seem to render emotions unnecessary.
One example is utilitarianism. Emotions don’t seem to play much of a role in utilitarian calculations – in fact, utilitarians are often criticized for neglecting emotion (for instance, one is supposed to help one’s close relatives only to the extent that doing so promotes the greatest overall happiness). Interestingly, as Prinz notes on p. 80, a study found people several times more likely to judge that it is acceptable to kill one person to save several (a classical utilitarian position) after watching a clip from Saturday Night Live. This result makes it appear as though utilitarians may be showing a sort of emotional desensitization. If my analysis is correct, then utilitarianism seems to be in trouble.
Another interesting case is Kant’s moral theory. In some respects, Kantianism may seem to fare better. For instance, Kant argues that a person’s moral worth depends on having the right motivation, not just on following the rules. Kant takes this conclusion quite far, arguing that moral worth is proven only in cases in which a person is motivated only by a sense of duty. This appears to parallel Prinz’s remarks about morality in apes – though they may behave at times in ways that appear to be moral, they do not appear to have the right kind of motivation. However, Kant’s sense of duty is emotionally cold, especially the first formulation on universalizing maxims. Kant explicitly argues that actions based on motives such as love are not truly moral actions. In contrast, such emotions are at the core of Prinz’s theory.
Do any theories fare better? One clue is to be found in how morality is learned. Specifically, it requires emotional sensitivity. Morality, for Prinz, is not the kind of thing that can be learned from a book. One cannot master morality by reading Kant, Mill, or anyone else. Those of you who took David’s ethical theory course last semester may be reminded of Julia Annas’ article on virtue theory, which made a very similar claim. Prinz has some concerns about virtue theories, especially those based on conceptions of virtue as part of overall well-being. However, I think his psychological argument pushes us strongly in a virtue ethical direction, and there are a wide range of virtue theories, so, for instance, we need not accept anything like Aristotle’s teleology.
posted by JT on behalf of AM
Friday, December 5, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
The role of vivid examples
Today we talked a bit about the role that vivid examples play in making general properties into elicitors of attitudes.
Introspecting the moral issues I'm most passionate about, I find that in some cases, indeed, there are vivid examples which prompt those beliefs (or at least maintain them in a very strong fashion). However, I think it should also be emphasized that vivid examples are not the whole story on what influences us to have strong moral attitudes towards this or that property. Consider an example:
When I was very young I was at a park with my parents. There were not a lot of people around. I was throwing a few rocks as high up in the air and as far as I could manage. At one point I turned around and threw one and, to my horror, there was another child standing in the 'field of fire.' As the rock fell to the ground, it turns out that it harmlessly landed 10-20 yards away. Neither my parents nor the child (nor anyone else, as far as I could tell) noticed. However, the terror and guilt I felt was influential on me. I don't know exactly how I conceptualized it then, but basically I concluded that your actions can have serious consequences. I remember thinking that I could have killed the child with the rock.
In the example above, there are certainly powerful emotions at work, and the event is vivid in my mind even today recalling it. However, it does not represent a vivid example of a certain type of action having ill consequences for fitness, nor is it a vivid example of brutality, shirking, etc. No terrible consequence was actualized. The event was influential because I could imagine the bad consequences which I could have easily caused (given my carelessness). The role vivid examples play need not be a linking up between event types (with certain general properties) and innate types of actions we might be predisposed to be sensitive to. Nor need it be a linking up of an event type and ill consequences more generally. The connection between carelessness and bad consequences wasn't established by a vivid example alone, but by an emotionally charge event and my imagination of possible bad consequences.
Other values I hold passionately are not even prompted by particular events (as best as I can tell), but are the result of ideological positions I've adopted. While some free-market conservatives may be rich and want to keep their money, and some socialists may be poor and want entitlements, material conditions seem not to be enough to explain moral and political positions generally.
Both the above examples illustrate the limitations of the influence of vivid examples on the properties that come to elicit moral attitudes. Vivid events (even with appropriate innate predispositions) are not necessary for generating strong moral beliefs about events that instantiate certain properties. They may sometimes be influential, but are not necessary.
Introspecting the moral issues I'm most passionate about, I find that in some cases, indeed, there are vivid examples which prompt those beliefs (or at least maintain them in a very strong fashion). However, I think it should also be emphasized that vivid examples are not the whole story on what influences us to have strong moral attitudes towards this or that property. Consider an example:
When I was very young I was at a park with my parents. There were not a lot of people around. I was throwing a few rocks as high up in the air and as far as I could manage. At one point I turned around and threw one and, to my horror, there was another child standing in the 'field of fire.' As the rock fell to the ground, it turns out that it harmlessly landed 10-20 yards away. Neither my parents nor the child (nor anyone else, as far as I could tell) noticed. However, the terror and guilt I felt was influential on me. I don't know exactly how I conceptualized it then, but basically I concluded that your actions can have serious consequences. I remember thinking that I could have killed the child with the rock.
In the example above, there are certainly powerful emotions at work, and the event is vivid in my mind even today recalling it. However, it does not represent a vivid example of a certain type of action having ill consequences for fitness, nor is it a vivid example of brutality, shirking, etc. No terrible consequence was actualized. The event was influential because I could imagine the bad consequences which I could have easily caused (given my carelessness). The role vivid examples play need not be a linking up between event types (with certain general properties) and innate types of actions we might be predisposed to be sensitive to. Nor need it be a linking up of an event type and ill consequences more generally. The connection between carelessness and bad consequences wasn't established by a vivid example alone, but by an emotionally charge event and my imagination of possible bad consequences.
Other values I hold passionately are not even prompted by particular events (as best as I can tell), but are the result of ideological positions I've adopted. While some free-market conservatives may be rich and want to keep their money, and some socialists may be poor and want entitlements, material conditions seem not to be enough to explain moral and political positions generally.
Both the above examples illustrate the limitations of the influence of vivid examples on the properties that come to elicit moral attitudes. Vivid events (even with appropriate innate predispositions) are not necessary for generating strong moral beliefs about events that instantiate certain properties. They may sometimes be influential, but are not necessary.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Problem for the Argument Against Objectivism
The argument that Tresan considers against objectivism begins:
(1) If objectivism is true, there is an instantiated property F such that necessarily all wrong-judgments attribute F.
This premise is said to be true, allegedly, by the definition of ‘objectivism.’ It is this point that I wish to contend with. I do not believe that (1) follows from a proper definition of ‘objectivism,’ and if I am correct, then the argument that Tresan presents against objectivism never gets off the ground.
For starters, what sort of thing is the objectivitist position about in the first place? Certainly not judgments! Of course, it will have implications for judgments—but it itself is not about judgments. It is about properties. As I understand it, objectivism is the view that there is some instantiated property F, and it is in virtue of having or lacking F that actions are morally right or wrong. From this it follows that if I judge some action, A, to be wrong, the proposition that my judgment expresses (“A is wrong”) can only be true if A has the property F (for the simplicity of discussion, let us stipulate that F=the action involves treating a person merely as a means). It does not follow, however, that all judgments of wrongness will be about property F. Someone else could judge that A is wrong, and still be correct, even though they do not even consider whether A has F—they make the judgment because they believe A has some other property, G (for instance, G=fails to maximize utility).
This strikes me as similar to the distinction between following a rule and acting in accordance with a rule. When I follow a rule (say: “You are not allowed to wear jeans to the office place”), I act with that rule in mind. I perhaps consider coming into work wearing jeans, and then recall that there is a rule against it—so decide not to. When I merely act in accordance with the rule, I do not think of the rule when I act. I need not even know the rule exists! Suppose I am the type of person who hates jeans, and wouldn’t wear them even if it were allowed. Suppose further, I do not ever bother reading the office’s rules regarding dress code, because I always dress in business-appropriate attire. When I come to work in slacks, I could be said to be acting in accordance with the rule, but not following it. If all you care about is whether I am wearing jeans or not, you need not concern yourself with why I am not wearing jeans (whether I followed the rule, or merely acted in accordance with it). Similarly, if all you care about is if a moral judgment expresses a true proposition, you do not need to inquire into why the judger makes the judgment (the proposition, “A is wrong,” is not any less true if a Utilitarian makes it in virtue of his belief that A has G, than when the Kantian makes the same judgment, in virtue of his belief that A has F).
If my understanding of objectivity is correct, then (1) is false. There can be wrong-judgments that do not attribute F. There can even be true wrong-judgments that do not attribute F! I contend that (1) should be rephrased to say that: “necessarily all wrong-judgments are true in virtue of whether or not the action has property F.” However, if reworded this way, (1) does not do the work it is needed to do in the argument against objectivity.
Well, I had a few things I have been trying to work out in response to the sort of reply I believe Tresan will give to my above account… but perhaps I should just await that reply.
(1) If objectivism is true, there is an instantiated property F such that necessarily all wrong-judgments attribute F.
This premise is said to be true, allegedly, by the definition of ‘objectivism.’ It is this point that I wish to contend with. I do not believe that (1) follows from a proper definition of ‘objectivism,’ and if I am correct, then the argument that Tresan presents against objectivism never gets off the ground.
For starters, what sort of thing is the objectivitist position about in the first place? Certainly not judgments! Of course, it will have implications for judgments—but it itself is not about judgments. It is about properties. As I understand it, objectivism is the view that there is some instantiated property F, and it is in virtue of having or lacking F that actions are morally right or wrong. From this it follows that if I judge some action, A, to be wrong, the proposition that my judgment expresses (“A is wrong”) can only be true if A has the property F (for the simplicity of discussion, let us stipulate that F=the action involves treating a person merely as a means). It does not follow, however, that all judgments of wrongness will be about property F. Someone else could judge that A is wrong, and still be correct, even though they do not even consider whether A has F—they make the judgment because they believe A has some other property, G (for instance, G=fails to maximize utility).
This strikes me as similar to the distinction between following a rule and acting in accordance with a rule. When I follow a rule (say: “You are not allowed to wear jeans to the office place”), I act with that rule in mind. I perhaps consider coming into work wearing jeans, and then recall that there is a rule against it—so decide not to. When I merely act in accordance with the rule, I do not think of the rule when I act. I need not even know the rule exists! Suppose I am the type of person who hates jeans, and wouldn’t wear them even if it were allowed. Suppose further, I do not ever bother reading the office’s rules regarding dress code, because I always dress in business-appropriate attire. When I come to work in slacks, I could be said to be acting in accordance with the rule, but not following it. If all you care about is whether I am wearing jeans or not, you need not concern yourself with why I am not wearing jeans (whether I followed the rule, or merely acted in accordance with it). Similarly, if all you care about is if a moral judgment expresses a true proposition, you do not need to inquire into why the judger makes the judgment (the proposition, “A is wrong,” is not any less true if a Utilitarian makes it in virtue of his belief that A has G, than when the Kantian makes the same judgment, in virtue of his belief that A has F).
If my understanding of objectivity is correct, then (1) is false. There can be wrong-judgments that do not attribute F. There can even be true wrong-judgments that do not attribute F! I contend that (1) should be rephrased to say that: “necessarily all wrong-judgments are true in virtue of whether or not the action has property F.” However, if reworded this way, (1) does not do the work it is needed to do in the argument against objectivity.
Well, I had a few things I have been trying to work out in response to the sort of reply I believe Tresan will give to my above account… but perhaps I should just await that reply.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Relativism and Insidiousness
We didn't get to talk about the final section of chapter five concerning the insidiousness of relativism. On the handout I made, I only had two questions:
1. Is relativism insidious?
2. Does relativism promote tolerance?
I can throw out some ideas of my own that loosely tie into these questions.
Prinz remarks that some objections to relativism are due to a concern that if relativism is true, all moral debates will be spurious. If we understand that no one has a wrong morality, then relativism provides the framework for tolerance. I'm right and so are you. There's no need for me to force my morality upon you. In fact, Prinz thinks that relativism is more compatible with tolerance than absolutism, because all absolutism has is epistemic uncertainty.
I think Prinz is mistaken in this claim. The absolutist can be tolerant for other reasons. In fact, if the absolutist is completely certain (somehow) that his morality is correct, he can still be tolerant of another's morality. I am still tolerant of those who reject evolution as true even though I am quite certain myself that it is true.
Prinz admits that relativism does not entail tolerance, but he is fairly certain relativism promotes tolerance. I don't think relativism alone can promote tolerance, however. Prinz acknowledges that on 213. We have to have another value that inflicting morality on others is bad if we don't have any more claim to the truth than others do. But it still seems to me that there are persistent moral disagreements and tensions that relativism will have a difficult time addressing. Prinz tries to show that we can and maybe should intervene in cases of female circumcision, because if it goes against our value system, we can be justified in acting. But this is not tolerance. Why would the relativist be opposed to female circumcision? Sure, it's wrong for us, but it's right for them, and they want to do it, so what business do we have to intervene? I don't see how we can step in and be tolerant at the same time. It may be in our value system, or right for us, to intervene in others' affairs when we don't have a truer morality, but that conflicts with tolerance, which requires us to think it bad to intervene in those cases. Unless I'm missing something, either we accept that no one's morality is truer or better than anyone else's morality and keep to ourselves (being tolerant), or we impose upon others with the idea that our morality is better even though we know (or think) that all morality is on equal footing when it comes to truth value (which isn't tolerance). Neither option looks too attractive to me.
So it looks like the tolerance in itself might be part of the insidiousness of relativism. Are we forced to tolerate genocides because we don't have access to a better truth system than other bloody regimes? That certainly doesn't sound right. Even if relativism does promote tolerance, I'm not sure some things should be tolerated. But I have this conviction because I think that some moral values are better than others. The relativist can't make this move. Doesn't it seem an important option to have though?
Of course, none of this disproves relativism. If it is true, we would have to accept that it is true, along with its consequences. But I don't think relativism is as sunny as Prinz would have us think.
1. Is relativism insidious?
2. Does relativism promote tolerance?
I can throw out some ideas of my own that loosely tie into these questions.
Prinz remarks that some objections to relativism are due to a concern that if relativism is true, all moral debates will be spurious. If we understand that no one has a wrong morality, then relativism provides the framework for tolerance. I'm right and so are you. There's no need for me to force my morality upon you. In fact, Prinz thinks that relativism is more compatible with tolerance than absolutism, because all absolutism has is epistemic uncertainty.
I think Prinz is mistaken in this claim. The absolutist can be tolerant for other reasons. In fact, if the absolutist is completely certain (somehow) that his morality is correct, he can still be tolerant of another's morality. I am still tolerant of those who reject evolution as true even though I am quite certain myself that it is true.
Prinz admits that relativism does not entail tolerance, but he is fairly certain relativism promotes tolerance. I don't think relativism alone can promote tolerance, however. Prinz acknowledges that on 213. We have to have another value that inflicting morality on others is bad if we don't have any more claim to the truth than others do. But it still seems to me that there are persistent moral disagreements and tensions that relativism will have a difficult time addressing. Prinz tries to show that we can and maybe should intervene in cases of female circumcision, because if it goes against our value system, we can be justified in acting. But this is not tolerance. Why would the relativist be opposed to female circumcision? Sure, it's wrong for us, but it's right for them, and they want to do it, so what business do we have to intervene? I don't see how we can step in and be tolerant at the same time. It may be in our value system, or right for us, to intervene in others' affairs when we don't have a truer morality, but that conflicts with tolerance, which requires us to think it bad to intervene in those cases. Unless I'm missing something, either we accept that no one's morality is truer or better than anyone else's morality and keep to ourselves (being tolerant), or we impose upon others with the idea that our morality is better even though we know (or think) that all morality is on equal footing when it comes to truth value (which isn't tolerance). Neither option looks too attractive to me.
So it looks like the tolerance in itself might be part of the insidiousness of relativism. Are we forced to tolerate genocides because we don't have access to a better truth system than other bloody regimes? That certainly doesn't sound right. Even if relativism does promote tolerance, I'm not sure some things should be tolerated. But I have this conviction because I think that some moral values are better than others. The relativist can't make this move. Doesn't it seem an important option to have though?
Of course, none of this disproves relativism. If it is true, we would have to accept that it is true, along with its consequences. But I don't think relativism is as sunny as Prinz would have us think.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
reply to What Rough Beast
[After leaving this in a comment, I realized it would be very difficult to read because the comments section is so narrow. So I decided to put it in a new post. If anyone knows how to expand the comments section, let me know.]
I think there are three things you (Einstein) could say in reply to the counterintuitiveness of the twin paradox. First, you could explain why its counterintuitiveness makes sense even if your theory is correct. Second, you could explain why that counterintuitiveness has no probative weight, for some other reason. Third, you could argue that although that counterintuitiveness does give us some reason to reject your theory, your case for your theory is strong enough that the balance of reasons favors accepting it. None of these involves simply reiterating your theory and pointing out that if your theory is correct, the twin paradox – however counterintuitive – is clearly not problematic. That would beg the question in a way that certainly seems pernicious. The first involves citing your theory, but not to show that it implies the twin paradox but to show that it comports with an explanation of the counterintuitiveness of the twin paradox. The third involves citing the theory, but also requires citing your case for it, and showing that it is strong enough to overcome the prima facie reason we have for rejecting the theory provided by the counterintuitiveness of the twin paradox. The second doesn’t involve citing the theory at all. [For the record, I believe the way to go in this case would be the first, and possibly the second. Almost certainly not the third, as our intuitions about these things are unlikely to be a reliable guide.]
Going back to Prinz, the situation is this. Prinz’s view entails such claims as X:
X. If I didn’t disapprove of murder, murder wouldn’t be wrong.
[if you don’t like “murder” because of its moral connotations just substitute some evaluatively neutral description of a typical case of murder]
The problem for Prinz is that X is counterintuitive. Here are the three analogous options. First, he can show that it makes sense that X is counterintuitive even if his theory is correct. Second, he can explain why its counterintuitiveness has no probative weight, on other grounds. Third, he can argue that although the counterintuitiveness of X does give us reason to reject his theory, his case for his theory is strong enough so that the balance of reasons favors accepting it.
I’m not sure which of these you are recommending (if you are). If the first, then Prinz has to explain why the counterintuitiveness of X makes sense even if his theory is correct (he does try to do this at various points in ch. 3, as we discussed in class). If the second, you seem to have to explain why we shouldn't rely on moral intuition, at least with respect to claims like X. If the third, then Prinz has to make a case for his theory strong enough to overcome the prima facie disadvantage conferred on it by the counterintuitiveness of X. As with Einstein’s theory, in no case is it enough simply to cite the theory and show that, if his theory is correct, X is true.
The reason I think X is so problematic for Prinz is that I don’t think he’s done any of these three things successfully. I don’t think he’s really explained why it seems so clearly false if his view is correct. He hasn’t explained why we shouldn’t trust our intuitions about claims like X. And I don’t think he’s as yet given a case strong enough to overcome the problem generated by X. (Actually, all I have been arguing in recent classes is that claims like X generate a prima facie problem for his view, which *might* be overcome by his positive arguments. So the third reply isn’t actually quite to the point, although of course it would be relevant to the broader point.)
So far as I can see, there are only two other options regarding X: show that his theory doesn’t after all entail it, or show that it isn’t actually counterintuitive. Neither involves simply citing his theory. That seems to beg the question, in a pernicious way.
I think there are three things you (Einstein) could say in reply to the counterintuitiveness of the twin paradox. First, you could explain why its counterintuitiveness makes sense even if your theory is correct. Second, you could explain why that counterintuitiveness has no probative weight, for some other reason. Third, you could argue that although that counterintuitiveness does give us some reason to reject your theory, your case for your theory is strong enough that the balance of reasons favors accepting it. None of these involves simply reiterating your theory and pointing out that if your theory is correct, the twin paradox – however counterintuitive – is clearly not problematic. That would beg the question in a way that certainly seems pernicious. The first involves citing your theory, but not to show that it implies the twin paradox but to show that it comports with an explanation of the counterintuitiveness of the twin paradox. The third involves citing the theory, but also requires citing your case for it, and showing that it is strong enough to overcome the prima facie reason we have for rejecting the theory provided by the counterintuitiveness of the twin paradox. The second doesn’t involve citing the theory at all. [For the record, I believe the way to go in this case would be the first, and possibly the second. Almost certainly not the third, as our intuitions about these things are unlikely to be a reliable guide.]
Going back to Prinz, the situation is this. Prinz’s view entails such claims as X:
X. If I didn’t disapprove of murder, murder wouldn’t be wrong.
[if you don’t like “murder” because of its moral connotations just substitute some evaluatively neutral description of a typical case of murder]
The problem for Prinz is that X is counterintuitive. Here are the three analogous options. First, he can show that it makes sense that X is counterintuitive even if his theory is correct. Second, he can explain why its counterintuitiveness has no probative weight, on other grounds. Third, he can argue that although the counterintuitiveness of X does give us reason to reject his theory, his case for his theory is strong enough so that the balance of reasons favors accepting it.
I’m not sure which of these you are recommending (if you are). If the first, then Prinz has to explain why the counterintuitiveness of X makes sense even if his theory is correct (he does try to do this at various points in ch. 3, as we discussed in class). If the second, you seem to have to explain why we shouldn't rely on moral intuition, at least with respect to claims like X. If the third, then Prinz has to make a case for his theory strong enough to overcome the prima facie disadvantage conferred on it by the counterintuitiveness of X. As with Einstein’s theory, in no case is it enough simply to cite the theory and show that, if his theory is correct, X is true.
The reason I think X is so problematic for Prinz is that I don’t think he’s done any of these three things successfully. I don’t think he’s really explained why it seems so clearly false if his view is correct. He hasn’t explained why we shouldn’t trust our intuitions about claims like X. And I don’t think he’s as yet given a case strong enough to overcome the problem generated by X. (Actually, all I have been arguing in recent classes is that claims like X generate a prima facie problem for his view, which *might* be overcome by his positive arguments. So the third reply isn’t actually quite to the point, although of course it would be relevant to the broader point.)
So far as I can see, there are only two other options regarding X: show that his theory doesn’t after all entail it, or show that it isn’t actually counterintuitive. Neither involves simply citing his theory. That seems to beg the question, in a pernicious way.
Ask not what Prinz should ask of you, but what you should ask of Prinz
So I've been thinking about the requirement that Jon placed on Prinz in class today (Ha, indexical!)
It was suggested that it is inappropriate for Prinz to use his account of morality in his defense of his account. Let me lay out how I think the dialectic is supposed to work - maybe I'm missing something.
So, in Chapter 5, Prinz tries to defend his view. Several of the objections he deals with (successfully or otherwise) take something like the following form: Prinz's account of morality (and moral terms) leads to consequence X. Consequence X is absurd/ unacceptable/ counterintuitive. So Prinz's account must be wrong. Modus tollens, and all that.
One strategy Prinz takes is to argue that consequence X isn't in fact unacceptable, or whatever. Jon noted that there are several points where Prinz presupposes the truth of his sentimentalist account in this part of the argument. This move by Prinz is problematically circular, it might appear.
Not so fast! A move like this is (clearly) problematic in some cases. If I argue that the Bible is infallible, and you point out that this leads to the counterintuitive consequence that several fish and several loaves of bread can feed several thousand people, it would certainly NOT be appropriate for me, in engaging this problematic consequence, to invoke my original claim of Biblical infallibility.
But there are cases when I think we do, and should, allow it. Say that I'm Einstein (not metaphorically, but literally). I figure out the theory of general and special relativity, and I'm trying to convince you that it's right. I lay out all the math, and you point out that the theory leads to the counterintuitive consequence that one twin who flies to a distant star and returns will be younger than his other twin who stayed behind. It would not be fair to bar me from invoking the theory of relativity in my defense against this counterintuitive consequence.
I suspect that the case of Prinz is more akin to the example of the theory of relativity than the example of Biblical infallibility. Prinz's positive account (in the previous chapters) is supposed to stand on its own, I think, arrived at by reason rather than by revelation. If we cannot find fault in the positive account, then the question we're faced with is how to reconcile that positive account with the somewhat distasteful consequences. We could run either a modus ponens or a modus tollens, and I think the goal of these later chapters is to make the choice of modus ponens more attractive.
If what I've said so far is right, then our demand for a defense against the counterintuitive consequences of the theory that doesn't bring in the theory itself might be too harsh. We shouldn't ask this much of Prinz.
It was suggested that it is inappropriate for Prinz to use his account of morality in his defense of his account. Let me lay out how I think the dialectic is supposed to work - maybe I'm missing something.
So, in Chapter 5, Prinz tries to defend his view. Several of the objections he deals with (successfully or otherwise) take something like the following form: Prinz's account of morality (and moral terms) leads to consequence X. Consequence X is absurd/ unacceptable/ counterintuitive. So Prinz's account must be wrong. Modus tollens, and all that.
One strategy Prinz takes is to argue that consequence X isn't in fact unacceptable, or whatever. Jon noted that there are several points where Prinz presupposes the truth of his sentimentalist account in this part of the argument. This move by Prinz is problematically circular, it might appear.
Not so fast! A move like this is (clearly) problematic in some cases. If I argue that the Bible is infallible, and you point out that this leads to the counterintuitive consequence that several fish and several loaves of bread can feed several thousand people, it would certainly NOT be appropriate for me, in engaging this problematic consequence, to invoke my original claim of Biblical infallibility.
But there are cases when I think we do, and should, allow it. Say that I'm Einstein (not metaphorically, but literally). I figure out the theory of general and special relativity, and I'm trying to convince you that it's right. I lay out all the math, and you point out that the theory leads to the counterintuitive consequence that one twin who flies to a distant star and returns will be younger than his other twin who stayed behind. It would not be fair to bar me from invoking the theory of relativity in my defense against this counterintuitive consequence.
I suspect that the case of Prinz is more akin to the example of the theory of relativity than the example of Biblical infallibility. Prinz's positive account (in the previous chapters) is supposed to stand on its own, I think, arrived at by reason rather than by revelation. If we cannot find fault in the positive account, then the question we're faced with is how to reconcile that positive account with the somewhat distasteful consequences. We could run either a modus ponens or a modus tollens, and I think the goal of these later chapters is to make the choice of modus ponens more attractive.
If what I've said so far is right, then our demand for a defense against the counterintuitive consequences of the theory that doesn't bring in the theory itself might be too harsh. We shouldn't ask this much of Prinz.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
some questions worth thinking (and blogging!) about...
[[of course, feel free to ignore these and raise other issues instead]]
1. How powerful are the objections to relativistic views like Prinz's that we've been considering in class (and that he considers in ch. 4)? I mean the objections from disagreement and so on.
2. What exactly is Prinz's view? Have I understood it correctly? I'm not at all sure that I have. My interpretation, recall, is that he seems to be defending two main claims:
first:
x is wrong-to-S iff there is a property F such that
(i) S has a sentiment of disapprobation to F actions
(ii) Fx
[[in my terminology, (i) = F is an elicitor, for S, of the relevant kinds of con-attitudes (those in the "disapprobation spectrum".]]
second:
the standard, default meaning of "x is wrong" is "x is wrong-to-me"
(as with, perhaps, "x is scary/enjoyable/upsetting/disturbing" etc.)
3. Even aside from whether there is another way of construing his view, is there another view which is at least similar to that one -- something in its vicinity -- which is defensible or interesting?
4. Does Prinz have any arguments against objectivism you regard as powerful or at least potentially so? If so, which?
5. What is the most interesting thing you have to say about morality?
1. How powerful are the objections to relativistic views like Prinz's that we've been considering in class (and that he considers in ch. 4)? I mean the objections from disagreement and so on.
2. What exactly is Prinz's view? Have I understood it correctly? I'm not at all sure that I have. My interpretation, recall, is that he seems to be defending two main claims:
first:
x is wrong-to-S iff there is a property F such that
(i) S has a sentiment of disapprobation to F actions
(ii) Fx
[[in my terminology, (i) = F is an elicitor, for S, of the relevant kinds of con-attitudes (those in the "disapprobation spectrum".]]
second:
the standard, default meaning of "x is wrong" is "x is wrong-to-me"
(as with, perhaps, "x is scary/enjoyable/upsetting/disturbing" etc.)
3. Even aside from whether there is another way of construing his view, is there another view which is at least similar to that one -- something in its vicinity -- which is defensible or interesting?
4. Does Prinz have any arguments against objectivism you regard as powerful or at least potentially so? If so, which?
5. What is the most interesting thing you have to say about morality?
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