In this dialogue, two college students, Katie and Dennis, discuss some of the positions taken by Sam Harris in his recent work The Moral Landscape. They discover that, first, theories of ethics based on human well-being are nothing new; they also question whether Harris has truly closed the door on moral subjectivism. Next, while remaining sympathetic to Harris, they question how much he has really accomplished by equating human well-being with specific brain states, and wonder if blissful brain states based on delusion can really be associated with a life well lived.
Katie: Hi Dennis! What's new?
Dennis: Oh, not so much. I have been doing some reading, though.
Katie: Really? What have you been reading?
Dennis: One of Sam Harris's books. It's about morality.
Katie: Oh, you mean The Moral Landscape. I've read that too.
Dennis: What did you think of it?
Katie: Well, I'm not so sure.
Dennis. What? I thought you liked Harris.
Katie: Well, I'm an atheist, so I agree with him there, and I think he's done a great service, along with Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens, and others in challenging religious dogma. But this book doesn't have me convinced.
Dennis: When you say that the book doesn't have you convinced, I wonder what you are not convinced of. Basically, Harris is arguing that goodness, and thus morality, are associated with human well-being, and that well-being can be correlated with specific brain states. And because this is the case, it is possible to speak of morality in terms that are objective, and yet have a completely naturalistic basis.
Katie: Yes, but there are two issues I think Harris needs to more fully address to make his case. First, not all philosophers have agreed that there are objective moral views. Think of Hume…
Dennis: Oh, I know. But doesn't Harris address that in his book?
Katie: Well, sort of.
Dennis: No offense, but why are you not convinced? Why do you say ‘sort of?’
Katie: Oh, you know what? I still have my copy of Harris's book in my backpack. Just a second…what does Harris say about Hume? Here it is:
‘The eighteenth century Scottish philosopher David Hume famously argued that no description of the way the world is (facts) can tell us how we ought to behave (morality). Following Hume, the philosopher G.E. Moore declared that any attempt to locate moral truths in the natural world was to commit a ‘naturalistic fallacy.’ Moore argued that goodness could not be equated with any property of human experience (e.g., pleasure, happiness, evolutionary fitness) because it would always be appropriate to ask whether the property on offer was itself good. This is known as Moore's “open question argument”. And while I think this verbal trap is easily avoided when we focus on well-being, most scientists and public intellectuals appear to have fallen into it. Other influential philosophers, including Karl Popper, have echoed Hume and Moore on this point, and the effect has been to create a firewall between facts and values throughout our intellectual discourse.’
Dennis: Well, you went through that sort of quickly, but I get the gist of it. I take it that you disagree with Harris on this point – perhaps you side with Hume?
Katie: Well, I'm not sure. But this makes me think of something I read in my ethics textbook last year. The author, Vincent Ryan Ruggiero, argues based on an interpretation of Aristotelian virtue ethics, that the existence of moral absolutes – of universal ‘ought’ statements – is self evident, and I'm just not convinced.
Dennis: Well, why does Ruggiero claim such truths are self-evident – although I must say, that if we have to have a discussion about whether something is truly self-evident, I wonder if it really is.
Katie: Exactly. Anyway, I happen to have that book, too.
Dennis: What! Do you carry every book you have ever read in that giant backpack of yours? You must be in training for the Olympics or something!
Katie: Ha! Ha! No, my younger sister is registered for the class, and the instructor is using the same text. I was just bringing it to her so she doesn't have to buy a new copy.
Dennis: Well, that's sure nice of you, especially considering the price of textbooks these days. Anyway, can you find the passage in question?
Katie: Sure, give me a minute…got it! Oh, and I forgot, Ruggiero actually starts with Mortimer Adler. Anyway, he says:
‘One of the foremost interpreters of the Western philosophic tradition, Mortimer Adler, explains how to get from is [that is what Harris calls a factual statement] to ought [what Harris calls a moral statement]. He begins by acknowledging that the problem Hume identified about is statements and ought statements is a real problem – in other words, the fact that people do act in a certain way does not prove that they should act in that way. Let's say we want to establish that we ought to be kind to animals, so we gather some facts, and after each we pause and ask, “Have we proved we ought to be kind to animals yet…”’
Dennis: Good. Let's cut to the chase!
Katie: So Ruggiero agrees that if we asked that question after each fact, we will not have proven in any way that we should be kind to animals. But then he claims to have found an exception to this gulf between is and ought. Let me quote from Ruggiero again:
Dennis: Ok, go ahead.
Katie: ‘However, Adler demonstrates that it is possible. He found the key in a little-noticed passage in the ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics. There Aristotle noted that although prescriptive (ought) statements cannot be tested for their correspondence with reality, they can be tested for conformity with right desire. The principle of right desire, which Adler terms “the first principle of moral philosophy”, is as follows:
“We ought to desire what is good for us and nothing else.”’
Dennis: Wait a minute. This is supposed to bridge the is/ought divide?
Katie: Yes, if Adler (and Aristotle) are correct. Don't you see? What is good for us is a factual statement…
Dennis: Yes, but we can argue about what might be good for us.
Katie: Ok, fine. But just for the sake of discussion, let's imagine that we are in complete agreement about a factual condition or set of conditions that really is good for us. The argument is that, if this is the case, those are things we should – we ought – to desire.
Dennis: Wow! There's a lot to think about there. One thing that bothers me is what about everyone else? Even if the argument works, it sounds rather selfish.
Katie: Well, at first glance, but Aristotle saw us as social beings, who needed a healthy community in which to thrive…
Dennis: Yes, that's right. I remember my professor saying something about that in my Intro to Philosophy class. But I take it you are not convinced?
Katie: I'm not. I can see why Aristotle and Adler would see that it is reasonable to desire what is good for us, but I'm not sure ‘reasonable’ is the same as ‘ought’.
Dennis: Well, I guess I have to think more about that…
Katie: And there's one other thing. Remember, Harris mentioned the philosopher Karl Popper. Well, he happens to be one of my favorites, and he wrote a book called The Open Society and its Enemies…
Dennis: Katie, you really are well-read. I'm feeling a bit embarrassed.
Katie: Don't worry about it. After all, you're just a lowly math major!
Dennis: Ok, humble pie! So anyway, tell me about Karl Popper.
Katie: Well, without going into too much detail, there's a section in Open Society in which Popper discusses rationalism and irrationalism. His basic point is that at the ground level, we have to choose either rationalism (and it gets complicated – he advocates what he calls ‘critical rationalism’ as opposed to ‘comprehensive rationalism’, but let's not get into that here). The main point is that until I have already chosen rationalism, I can't be persuaded by rational arguments.
Dennis: You have to slow down – you're starting to lose me.
Katie: Well let me try. So Adler and Aristotle (at least on Adler's interpretation) are saying that there are self-evident statements that show the is/ought distinction to be, at least at some level, a mistake. Thus there can be objective moral truths. But Popper (who was no relativist) is saying that another step is involved. Once we accept a specific approach to the world, then certain things follow. If we accept rationalism, then it might become obvious that we should desire what is good for us. But why should we accept rationalism in the first place? And notice you can't respond with a rational argument, if Popper is correct, because that doesn't mean anything to me unless I have already made a commitment to rationalism.
Dennis: But aren't we rational by nature?
Katie: Well, Aristotle thought so. But not everyone agrees. Think of some of the existentialists and their emphasis on the irrational. And then there's Freud, and the influence of the subconscious; there are irrational drives, and so on and so forth.
Dennis: Ok, I get that. But what does this have to do with Harris?
Katie: Well, I think he is staking out a position similar to that of Adler and Aristotle. But I don't think such a position is self-evident. My aim is not to say that Harris is wrong on this point – he may be correct. But he has some more work to do.
Dennis: But isn't Harris different than the other two?
Katie: Well, although the title of Harris's book – The Moral Landscape, suggests that he is open to a variety of approaches, one thing he has in common with virtue ethics (as well as utilitarianism) is a focus on human well-being. The contribution he makes – and I think it is a contribution, although there is an even larger problem we have to discuss – is that well-being can be associated with increasingly identifiable brain states.
Dennis: Now that I understand. What part do you have a problem with? Are you opposed to human well-being?
Katie: No, no, of course not. But there is a problem equating human well-being with brain states.
Dennis: How can you say that? If I am happy, for example, doesn't that in some way connect with a state in my brain? In fact, can't we say that that's what we mean by being happy?
Katie: Well, slow down now – you seem to equate happiness with pleasure. There are other ideas – most notably from Aristotle – about what happiness is, but let's not go in that direction – that's not the problem I see.
Dennis: Well, what is the problem then?
Katie: When we talk about ethics, there are various approaches. And not all of them focus on what is right and what is wrong in terms of a set of rules. One question asked by some ethicists is this: ‘What is a life well-lived?’
Dennis: That's fine, but I don't see how that presents a problem for Harris.
Katie: Have you ever seen the movie ‘The Matrix?’
Dennis: Of course. Who hasn't?
Katie: Well, probably lot's of people. I have to say I am not a big fan of Keanu Reeves. But that's beside the point. If you remember, in the Matrix, people were essentially being kept in a physically dormant state, and their bodies were being utilized as energy sources by machines. However – and this is important – as a way to help keep them dormant, they were kept in very positive – though completely illusory – brain states. Would you say that a Matrix life is a life well-lived?
Dennis: Ok, you do have a point there. And that makes me think – isn't there some famous thought experiment about a brain in a vat?
Katie: Yes. But first let me point out that, even on a charitable reading of Harris, he does not seem to have accomplished much, at least from a philosophical perspective. Let's say I already believe that gratuitous human suffering is wrong. Well, what does it really add to say that gratuitous suffering is wrong, because of a particular brain state? If I am not already able to see it as wrong, what does equating it with a brain state really add?
Dennis: Although, in fairness to Harris, I think he is claiming that there are real pay-offs that can be associated with – say – altruistic behavior, and that this can be scientifically identified through an analysis of the brain.
Katie: Fine. From the perspective of science, he might be able to further identify what leads to a human sense of well-being or to its opposite. But that does nothing to establish the philosophical position that we should, on moral grounds, strive for human well-being in the first place.
Dennis: So I take it that for you, the jury is still out between moral objectivism and some form of subjectivism.
Katie: That's right. But I want to move on. Let's think of ‘The Matrix’ again – it is essentially the same as the brain-in-the-vat scenario. Here's a question that arises: Is it preferable to live a life in which reality, to the extent it is possible, is seen for what it is? Or is it the case that a delusional life, in which one experiences positive brain states, but is out of touch with reality, is really better?
Dennis: Well, to me, that brings up the issue of religion. What if certain practitioners of religion are deluded, but they experience feelings of bliss and contentment. What does this do to Harris's argument?
Katie: I think Harris would argue that religious states of mind do not lead to desirable brain states.
Dennis: Ok, in fairness to him, let's assume he is correct 90% of the time. But in the 10% minority of religious believers … well, I just think Harris, by his own criteria, would have to admit that they are living a good life.
Katie: There's another objection I would like to present to Harris. You're familiar with the Myth of Sisyphus?
Dennis: Is that where he has to push the rock up the hill, only to have it roll down so he has to begin all over again?
Katie: Exactly. I was reading a philosopher recently – I'm pretty sure her name was Susan Wolf – and she, basing her thoughts on a previous philosopher's work, asked this question: Imagine that Sisyphus was genetically constructed such that he took real meaning – and thus experienced a series of positive brain states – in what appears to be an objectively irrelevant task like pushing a rock up a hill over and over again, with no further purpose? If we are to take Harris at his word, we must say that as long as his brain state were to remain positive, that manner of life would have to be regarded as a good life.
Dennis: Hmmm… that makes me think of something else. I remember when I was reading about Utilitarianism, some of its critics called it the ‘pig philosophy’.
Katie: Yes, that's because Jeremy Bentham believed that pleasures of all sorts differed only in quantity. So the pleasure of a pig rooting in the mud is essentially the same thing as the pleasure of a human reading Shakespeare. They differ only in degree.
Dennis: But didn't John Stuart Mill have something to say about that?
Katie: Yes, he famously stated that he would rather be a human dissatisfied than a satisfied pig. Humans suffer all sorts of anxieties and other forms of mental anguish that, in theory at least, pigs remain free from. But Mill was saying that he would still choose to be human.
Dennis: Even though his brain state might not be as pleasureable…
Katie: Presumably. I don't know what Harris would say about that.
Dennis: So at any rate, you have some philosophical problems with Harris?
Katie: Yes. And again, I like Harris. I am a secularist as well, and he provides a strong and much needed voice. I just think he has added very little to the discussion of morality – there have long been thinkers who have argued human well-being is the foundation and the goal of morality. All he seems to have done is to point out that well-being can be acquainted with specific brain states. And I think he needs to revisit and clarify some of the underlying philosophical issues. I hope he does.
