There are many divergent positions in normative ethics and metaethics available to the philosopher. Those who seek to uphold theism have, however, fewer options. Some positions in ethics and metaethics, for example that there are no moral facts, are generally ruled out by theists. But there are other positions, whilst not incompatible with traditional forms of theism, are often considered to be in tension with them.
Kevin Kinghorn's project is distinguished by his concern for both general Christian orthodoxy (e.g. Trinity, Incarnation, afterlife) and his advocacy of philosophical positions that many broadly traditional theologians would be uncomfortable with. The most important of these for Kinghorn's project is that goodness should be understood solely in terms of what is good for someone (well‐being) and that the only non‐instrumental goods are mental experiences. Different degrees of well‐being should be understood in terms of the experience of different feeling tones. Kinghorn also supports a number of related positions, such the Humean doctrine that only desire states can motivate and not reasons or belief.
When brought into theology, such views lead to a highly subjectivist conception of salvation. By contrast, Thomists, for example, argue for a considerably more objectivist view. Goodness is to be understood in terms of the actualisation of the potential of things, which includes, but is not confined to, the experiential aspects of human life; and thus the material, as created by God and possessing actuality, can be understood as having value in itself.
But many thoroughly secular philosophers would also object to Kinghorn's highly experientialist account of non‐instrumental value and well‐being. The best known such objection is Robert Nozick's famous thought experiment: the ‘experience machine’. The standard form of this objection is that if given the choice between living life in the real world, or, floating in a tank with electrodes attached to our brains that give us the very same mental experiences, we would choose the former over the latter. This supports the position that we care about more than just our mental experiences; we also care about the objects of our mental experiences in themselves and not simply in terms of how they affect our mental experiences. On this view, if a friend betrayed me, my well‐being would in an important respect be diminished, even if I had no knowledge of the betrayal and my mental experiences were not affected in the slightest. This is the sort of position that Kinghorn disputes.
These issues have spawned a significant literature. It is a tribute to Kinghorn's philosophical tenacity that he faces the various challenges head‐on. Yet, even those who are sympathetic to Kinghorn's view of personal well‐being on philosophical grounds might question how his philosophical views could fit into a broadly traditional theistic account.
Even if it does not matter to my personal well‐being if my mental experiences are grounded in external reality or not, if the mental experiences that constitute the deepest forms of my well‐being are grounded in a relationship with God, then the question of whether my mental experiences have an appropriate grounding in external reality might matter to God. After all, the omnipotent and omniscient God would not himself be subject to experience machine‐type concerns. In this way, because of God, external reality in itself, and not simply as what is necessary to generate mental experience, would play an ineliminable role in salvation. Kinghorn discusses such issues, but it puts externalist pressure on his account of the nature of salvation.
Kinghorn also presents a detailed account of moral right and wrong in terms compatible with his account of non‐instrumental good. This account is highly psychologistic, and is in terms of more basic concepts such as praise, blame and social sanction. Whereas non‐instrumental good is understood in terms of the metaphysics of human subjectivity, moral right and wrong are understood in the non‐objectivist terms of reactive attitudes and social function.
This strikes me as a misstep. First, Kinghorn's central theological project does not in fact require any account of moral right and wrong. It is also possible to have an account of moral right and wrong that is compatible with Kinghorn's account of non‐instrumental good but which does not give way to the strong non‐objectivism of the account he gives. For example, moral right could be understood in terms of what supports and enhances the person being able to have mental experiences that constitute higher degrees of well‐being. Similarly, moral wrong could be understood in terms of what undermines or detracts from the person being able to have mental experiences that constitute higher degrees of well‐being. This alternative account might help allay concerns that Kinghorn goes too far in the subjectivist direction. Even if Kinghorn would reject my suggestion, it still leaves the point that his analysis of moral right and wrong is an unnecessary and potentially controversial part of his overall view.
If this reader remains unconvinced by the broad thrust of Kinghorn's position, there is no gainsaying the many merits of this book. The writing style is clear. The arguments are detailed and balanced. The first part, on the nature and semantics of non‐instrumental good, is a tour de force. Kinghorn does not just bite difficult philosophical bullets here; he gives subtle and insightful arguments. Moreover, by putting forward philosophical positions generally not favoured by theologians, and then attempting to fit these into a broadly traditional theist view, Kinghorn has performed a valuable service of exploration and enlargement of discussion. For some theologians Kinghorn's book might lead to the consideration of new philosophical positions; for others it might help confirm their rejection of them. Either way, this book should aid reflection and debate.
