C. S. Lewis and Dostoyevsky’s Morality

Lewis' and Dostoyevsky's Claim

C. S. Lewis famously claimed that mankind's instinct for the conception of good—whether through the experience of a guilty conscience or the inclination that something ought to be better—was evidence that there is a God. Over the years, I have spent dozens of hours listening to long forum debates over the existence of God. Along with Lewis' claim, religious believers often posited Dostoyevsky's maxim, "If there's no God, all is permitted."

The arguments go as follows. [For Lewis] All claims of morality are bound to be subjective. True objectivity can only be established if someone can take a birds-eye-view of the subject. Because mankind cannot step outside himself, any moral assertions are bound to have a subjective prejudice. The fact that humans are inclined to do good—or feel guilt for doing evil—reveals the fingerprint of God. For He is the pole that our moral compass points toward. [For Dostoyevsky] If there is no God, man could act according to his darkest impulses without prejudice. Without the fear of an Eternal Judge, man would find no reason to restrain his behavior.

What We Know About Humans

Are Lewis and Dostoyevsky correct? A good rule of thumb for such rhetorical exercises is known as The Sagan Standard: "Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence." Lewis' claim that God is seen in man's instinct for good is an extraordinary claim. Could someone show this claim to be true? Of course not. Could it be shown to be false? Again, of course not. However, just as I cannot disprove the existence of unicorns, it is not up to me to provide evidence of their nonexistence; it is up to the unicorn apologist to show that they do. When the evidence for a claim is slim, it is up to the one making the allegation to persuade otherwise.

How could we know that the instinct for good is the fingerprint of God? There is, of course, no way to. It is a claim that rests on a matter of faith. I find it strange that this attack on man's inherent subjectivity is only made when speaking of morality and not on any other form of our understanding. If objectivity can never be met unless one is "outside the system being observed," how can we ever claim objective understanding? Again, why is it only morality that religious people argue against when it comes to man's capacity for understanding? For example, how do we know that our instinct to eat is not the fingerprint of Hestia, Goddess of Feasting? Are we certain that the impulse for vengeance is not a connection with the God of War, Ares? Is it possible that when a passionate obsession with a lover overcomes us, we are under the influence of Cupid? Again, I am not claiming these things are true. If I were, the onus would be on me to justify the claims with evidence. If I could not provide the proof necessary, there could be no surprise that people were not convinced. Yet, somehow, in debates on these topics, Christians get away with gas-lighting people who insist on evidence before being willing to change their minds. They will say such "stubbornness" is proof of their opponent's rebellion against God—that we who have been made in such a way that we cannot so easily believe are willfully blinding ourselves from the truth. For such reasons, I find debating religious people on these matters difficult to bear. At any point, they can insert an asterisk with no grounding in evidence. Such asterisks come in the form of "We only see in part" or "Who can understand the mind of God?" When I refuse to accept such "points" as valid, they claim I am the dishonest one. I ask yet again, why would morality be the only construct religious apologists dispute in such a manner? Perhaps it is because they know that if they no longer have a monopoly over man's moral judgment, they no longer hold a monopoly over his soul.

Regarding Dostoyevsky. He is one of the greatest minds I have come across. However, his view that without a God, mankind would have no bulwark against their darkest impulses rests on two fallacies. First, Dostoyevsky claims that if there were no God, the consequences would be too dire. In rhetoric, this is called Argumentum ad Consequentiam: an argument from the consequences. However, the fact that we do not like the implications of an argument does not make that argument false. It is, for example, a very unfortunate truism that children who lack essential nutrition during their developmental years have a lifelong detriment in their IQ. It is also a truism that IQ is one of the most significant predictors of success in the workplace. The significance of these facts cannot be overstated: children who lack essential nutrition suffer lifelong consequences in their intellectual capacity and have a decreased likelihood of success in their careers. This is an unfortunate truth; refusing to believe it because of its ramifications neither helps the individuals impacted nor prevents it from happening in the future. The emotional valence we experience from a claim has no bearing on its truth. This is the fallacy of Argumentum ad Consequentiam.

Dostoyevsky's second fallacy rests on a misrepresentation of humans as social beings. While humans are very well capable of mayhem, we also have the capacity for empathy. Rudimentary forms of this trait can be seen across many species from our ancestral past. People do not enjoy being tyrannized. When despots arise, people will either flee or revolt when they can.

Additionally, humans have a unique capacity to learn from the experience of others, giving us the ability to refrain from making potentially stupid decisions. Much of the antisocial behavior people exhibit is severely punished by others. Because we have the capacity to learn vicariously, we can avoid these pitfalls without needing to experience them firsthand. This capacity, coupled with our awareness of the future, allows us to avoid much suffering. The ability to look to the future gives us another ability. We can develop a respectful relationship with iterations of our selves. It is not just me at this present moment, that I have to consider; there will be me in five minutes, me in five years, and, if I am fortunate, me in five decades. It is, therefore, optimal to learn how to dance with life in a manner that is beneficial across time for our selves, and, given that we are social beings, beneficial for those around us.

While we are on the topic of humans as social creatures, it is worth noting that we have a strong—biochemically regulated—distaste for social rejection. Additionally, we enjoy camaraderie, competition, and play. Oxytocin—a hormone responsible for emotional regulation, building trust and empathy, and interpersonal bonding—is released when we touch. Serotonin—another biological system—increases when we accomplish our goals and move up hierarchical structures. We are biochemically incentivized to learn how to play well with others. Individuals that cannot—or will not—have a poor reputation and are quickly cast out. This is not a good game. Not only do these individuals miss out on friendships. They lose access to the resources, services, and recreation that would have come with those friendships. We are much better off learning to live harmoniously with others.

Dostoyevsky's conception of humanity as inherently impulsive and myopic pleasure-seekers assumes that people are indelibly psychopathic (a disposition to disregard and violate the rights of others), Machiavellian (someone who manipulates others while justifying any means to reach the desired end), sadistic (someone that enjoys inflicting pain and humiliation upon others), and narcissistic (a tendency to over-evaluate oneself). This is not true. The Dark Tetrad—the umbrella term coined for the aforementioned traits—is observed in roughly 1% of women and 3% of men. The assertion that without God, humans would be destined to manifest such characteristics is baseless.

I question the judgment and honesty of the people who hyper-focus on man's flaws while remaining ignorant of his virtues. The story of man's Original Sin, of course, has its utility. Man is prone to entropic stupidity, willful blindness, and the denial of responsibility. But this is not all that he is. Man created skyscrapers, landed on the moon, invented tampons (the freedom that this afforded women cannot be overstated), has nearly eradicated starvation worldwide, and has pushed back diseases for the sake of loving their neighbor. We exhibit these virtues not only because of the Biblical commandment to do so (though it would be dishonest to state that it played no part). We do so because we delight in helping those around us. We are hardwired for empathy. We enjoy seeing others smile. We are instinctually disgusted when we witness someone in pain. Such phenomena are potent drivers for selfish individuals to do good. In their own self-interest, they make the world a better place. When you make the allegation that we are only evil, you reveal your ignorance, or you are cherry-picking our flaws while leaving our virtues on the tree. In this manner, Dostoyevsky is not only wrong, he is antithetically wrong. Which of the following claims is more probable? "Without God, man would be destined to commit atrocities and have no reason to be good to his fellow man." Or, "Any evil whatsoever can be permitted if one believes God is on their side."

How We Define Our Terms

If we are alone in this universe, if it is up to us to stumble along the way to create paradise, could we manage it? If we are merely vehicles carrying selfish genes with the purpose of propagation, how and why would we define morality? First and foremost, we should look at the premise underlying the question. Is man capable of objectivity? In the animal kingdom, only man is capable of reason. How can we determine if our reason is reliable? To paraphrase Matt Dillahunty, our trust in reason is based on its continued ability to produce effective results. How can we know if our understanding of physics is reliable? Do the bridges hold, or do they fall? If our relationship with a given phenomenon is one where we consistently see the results we predict, it is probable to assume we understand it. Why would the realm of morality be any different?

To illustrate this, let us digress into the etymology of plants. What is a vegetable? Can we be sure we are correct? Are the distinctions between a fruit and a vegetable arbitrary? If the distinctions change across time, does this give us reason to disregard our pursuit of understanding the subject? Before the early 15th century, there were no categorical distinctions between types of edible plants. It was not until 1767 that the word vegetable entered the conversational zeitgeist. Simply put, a vegetable was considered an edible plant or root. Over 250 years later, we now distinguish fruits—food from the flower of a plant—from vegetables—the edible part of a plant, not from a flower.

Over many a dinner table, the categorical identity of a tomato is still debated (a tomato is a fruit). Given that humans survived most of history without the two categories, it could easily be said that the entire debate is fruitless. Though the cynicism is understandable, it is not helpful. Since time began, we have lived with the curse of a tortuous universe. We must arduously forage for wisdom; we must learn what is wheat and what is chaff.

Leo Tolstoy beautifully illustrates that we must be gracious when someone stumbles along their way to the light.

"'Look at my life now and compare it to my former life. You will see that I am trying to live out the truth I proclaim.' Unable to live up to the high ideals he taught, the priest admits he has failed. But he cries: 'Attack me, [if you wish,] I do this myself, but [don't] attack… the path I follow… If I know the way home [but] am walking along it drunkenly, is it any less the right way simply because I am staggering from side to side? …Do not gleefully shout, 'Look at him! … There he is crawling into a bog!' No, do not gloat, but give… your help [to anyone trying to walk the road back to God].'"

As we journey uphill, we are bound to fail or change our minds. To believe otherwise is ignorant; to insist otherwise is autocratic. We could throw away the game of categorizations. Perhaps distinctions between food types are unnecessary. The debate of which knowledge should be sparsed and refined will never cease. Is it necessary to understand the differences between arteries, veins, and capillaries? Should they be further distinguished, or are the terms redundant as is? This conversation will always be at the center of every profession. Being cynical of the journey benefits no one. Dejected as we may be, we must accept that perfection is a pursuit, not a destination. Improvement comes incrementally across time—slowed by ignorance and deceit; accelerated by prudence and truthful inquiry. That's what we are stuck with. Our journey of defining, understanding, and enforcing morality follows the same path: we must humbly stumble towards progress. Only an absolutist would demand otherwise.

This is the crux on which we must further our discussion. Many religious followers claim that no absolute morality can exist without an Absolute Being defining the terms. But I am no fan of absolutism. The desire for it is pathological and has roads closely tied to fascism and the inevitable suffering it produces. (Un)fortunately(?), we do not get many definitive answers in life. Perhaps this is for the best. While it may leave us prone to error, it also frees us from the chains that certainty brings. Certainty—Satan's eternal sin of pride—is the enemy of understanding. A genuine pursuit of understanding requires one to be willing to learn. If the posture of humility is ever foregone, any knowledge having been won will be apt to decay. Why? No rule is timeless or without exception, and no truth cannot be looked at from a different perspective. We can see life from a limitless amount of perspectives. When we find ourselves in a new environment, we must be willing and able to carefully reanalyze our suppositions. A tight fist and willful blindness will not save you from the flood if you refuse to see the water. The claim that morality cannot be conclusively established if there is no God is something that I humbly and joyfully accept. I do not want to hold the keys of perfection, for I could not trust myself with them. Anyone with any sense would not trust themselves with them either. To claim a perfect understanding of the truth is precisely the rhetoric of dictators. I welcome the instruction my error provides and the light that it shines on my ignorance. Do you?

Over the years, I have been tempted to concede to the claim that there could be no objective and eternal morality without God. I considered that, while we may be forever lost in terms of ultimate objectivity, we could define our terms based on the game we decided to play. For example, if one chose to play the game of chess, we could objectively determine if that person was playing by the rules of chess. Furthermore, we could objectively rank-order the moves that affected the likelihood of victory. If someone won too arrogantly, and others did not want to play with them again, we could objectively claim this as a poor strategy for participating in future competitions. Extrapolating this framework to interpersonal morality, we can identify which games we prefer to play together. Next, we can objectively rank-order which behaviors were positive and which were negative, based on the action's compliance with the rules of that game. For example, let us imagine that the decided-upon goal was to create a society where the greatest amount of human flourishing could exist for the maximum amount of time. We could objectively measure policies that decreased tribal feuds and increased voluntary individual participation. While this framework has great utility, I believe conceding to the argument of man's inability to use reason to objectively determine morals is wrong. So, to face the challenge posited by theists, we must take this framework slightly further.

On Moral Progress

Since the inception of our species, we have had to manage the terrifying reality of starvation, famine, and disease, a fluctuating climate and a lack of resources, war and tyranny, love and heartache, betrayal and trust. Our ability to live peacefully among each other was closely intertwined with kinship. Interactions with outsiders were prone to suspicion and conflict. When we could work together, we flourished—typically through trade and specialization—until catastrophe struck or corruption overwhelmed. Oftentimes, religion was the primary source of social fabric and cultural instantiation. It was the mechanism that oriented us toward an ideal and posited an explanation of the human experience. While the benefit of a social fabric was—and still remains—indelible, the all-encompassing narrative was also used to justify the destruction of the stranger.

The outsider—the one that did not follow the way—was often put to death. The insider—likely someone born into the civilization—was taxed the fruits of their labor. Kings throughout the ages partnered with the religions of their times. A king's rule needed to be justified, especially after using force. Submitting to the gods of the time was an antidote to the question of the sovereignty of his reign and provided an additional level of meaning to his rule.

Additionally, people are prone to wander from the ideal path. Throughout the ages, priests were the shepherds who led the sheep to pasture. However, when disobedience and rebellion spread like a weed, mystical threats of a god's wrath were oft not enough to change the behavior.

"But this thing commanded I them, saying, Obey my voice, and I will be your God, and ye shall be my people: and walk ye in all the ways that I have commanded you, that it may be well unto you. But they hearkened not, nor inclined their ear, but walked in the counsels and in the imagination of their evil heart, and went backward, and not forward." (Jeremiah 7:23–24)

Because the gods were unpredictable in their timing to discipline, the priests needed a sword to pierce through the unrepentant hearts. For such reasons, the king and the priest were eternally bound.

Rules are a necessary component of life. They inform us about what behavior is acceptable to the people around us. When we break them, people are often angered and frightened. What type of person would be willing to go against a consensus? Rules orient us. They shine a light on a path to follow.

Imagine the following scenario. You are scheduled for a mandatory business meeting. When you arrive, you see a disjointed seating arrangement. The chairs do not point in any particular direction. Some individuals face the front of the room, some the side, and some the back. You are given no direction on where to sit nor which seating orientation means what. You find the closest chair near a wall. This chair is safe. Not only does it provide proximity to the edge of the room, but it is also optimally distant from all of the unknown colleagues. You do your best to avoid eye contact but inevitably exchange glances with others—finally, someone speaks. You think to yourself, "Thank God. Something." The leader courteously greets everyone with a warm smile. With a soft, maternal voice, she says, "We really want to let you decide what this meeting is about. You are the ones on the front lines, so you will have the best understanding of what we need. We're looking forward to seeing what you accomplish today!" Everyone looks around uncomfortably. You are washed with anxiety. What does "do what you think is best" mean? How should you know what is best? What if you say something stupid? What if everyone realizes you have not really cared about this job for over a year? You notice some of the others. You see the same panic in their eyes. Now and then, someone stands up and shares something. Everyone calms and listens. Though the speech contains little value, people gratefully listen: they are, for now, no longer at risk of exposure. However, when the speech ends, the vulnerability returns.

Now, imagine a different scenario. Rather than a phantasm of chaos, you walk into a room with seats aligned toward the front, a schedule informing you of the day's purpose, and a leader that openly explores the agenda with room for questions. For those who are more artistic and open, this may give you some anxiety. But, on average, people want to know what they should do and where they belong. We negotiate our place with others and welcome regulations if it gives us a direction to aim.

Order and rules orient us in the world. Every rule comes at the cost of a freedom, and every renunciation of a rule comes at the cost of a social understanding. Someone must set a standard of behavior, or everything will be left to chaos. We pay this price to live amongst each other: we submit ourselves to an agreed-upon set of rules; in exchange, we can understand each other and live harmoniously. For this reason, I cannot decry religion as only a poison.

As mankind progressed through the ages, we better understood the patterns of our behaviors. We noticed that leaders had a proclivity to become corrupt and eventually used their power to leech off the fruits of their people's labor. We took notice of which laws begot peace and which begot destruction. By the time of The Enlightenment, pillars of thought such as Cesare Beccaria, Denis Diderot, David Hume, Immanuel Kant, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, John Locke, Montesquieu, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Adam Smith, Hugo Grotius, Baruch Spinoza, Voltaire, Thomas Paine, and Thomas Jefferson explicitly articulated the rights of man in ways never before professed. A revolution of freedom and industrial complexity boomed whenever a society adopted these principles. The West explicitly canonized the rights of the individual; as a result, mankind flourished unprecedentedly. Both wealth and the global population exponentially soared. And, despite the insistence that resources would become scarce, we found the opposite to be true: resources increased exponentially. How could this be? Human ingenuity, coupled with the protected rights to keep the fruits of one's own labor (also known as capitalism), continuously incentivized betterments to production.

As wealth was democratized and resources were no longer scarce, we began to take heed of our conscience. It beckoned us to reanalyze our prejudices and notice the contradiction between our stated ideals and how we treated the other. Slavery was put to death; women were returned to equanimity alongside men. The story of the West is one of constant introspection and update. We consistently challenge ourselves to eliminate the hypocrisies we have. Historically, anyone who spoke against their culture or their leader was put to death. In the West, we broke that tradition. No longer subject to the arbitrary whims of a tyrant, the people were given a chance to voice their opinion with constitutional protection from capricious punishment.

To those of religious leaning, can you, in good conscience, claim that if there is no God, these things are not good? A moral is something "concerned with the principles of right and wrong behavior and the goodness or badness of human character." Is it moral to have a law that protects an individual's right to live?

In pursuit of objectivity, let us start with the following claims. The well-being of a species must be in alignment with its nature. It is in a fish's nature to swim and an ant-eater's nature to eat ants. Because a fish could not live outside of water, we can claim that land is not an environment that produces a fish's well-being, just as a habitat without ants cannot produce the well-being of an ant-eater. What is the nature of man?

To answer this question, we could start by observing which conditions improve someone's physical and psychological well-being. Humans psychologically deteriorate in isolation—this is why solitary confinement is an effective punishment; we do not like to be alone. Thus, we can assert that socialization must be right for man.

When force is exerted on an individual, many detrimental effects ensue. Anxiety increases, causing the body to burn through excess resources and increasing the likelihood of disease. Fantacization of vengeance emerges, increasing the probability of cyclical inter-tribal conflicts. Often, social distrust follows; the person decides that people cannot be trusted, reducing the likelihood of optimally socializing in the future. Thus, we can assert that force exerted on an individual is wrong for man.

Moral behavior—the concern of what is right or wrong—can be extrapolated from such observations. Will every observation lead to favorable results? Will everyone agree on which observation should take precedence? Will there be a single solution to a given problem? No, no, and no. However, complexity and disagreement are no reason to abandon the pursuit of understanding.

Just as we can observe the characteristics of a vegetable, and just as we can redefine what a vegetable is, we can observe and redefine the principles of morality—that is, what is right for man and what his responsibility to his fellow man should be. Anyone who denies this has no place in a conversation on morality. To debate how man ought to live presupposes his capacity for reason and choice and ignores the reality of his biological makeup. To deny our capacity to use reason as a way of finding truth—or, more despicably, to decry certain issues as off limits for reason to be utilized—is dishonest and rests on a desire to separate man from such aspects of his nature.

Why would someone want to tell man that his mind is not his tool to see and understand the world? Why would someone want him to believe he was eternally damned and must seek penance through unobservable mysteries that require neither reason nor evidence? Why would someone want him to believe that any good that he does is damned and useless because he and his righteousness is "filthy rags; and we all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away" (Isaiah 64:6)? Why would someone desire to ignore any form of man's biological reality (or, if allowing this, only insist on the antisocial and pathological aspects of his nature)?

Any claim that man's proper state is outside of his nature—that is, outside of his capacity to think, without the volition to choose, and separate from any biological constitution—does not come from someone interested in morality. Only someone with malicious intent would aim to place a man outside his nature. Only an autocrat would seek to put a man on his knees when his rightful posture is to stand. Only a tyrant would intend to destroy a man's reason when his mind is his tool of survival. Only a despot would tell a man that his life is not his to live, but his brother's or his god's to take.

Again, I will ask, when you look at man's progress, do you see it as meaningless? When you see that less people are in poverty, fewer are killed in war, and even fewer are under the rulership of evil kings, do you find this to be in vain? Do you believe that such progress has nothing to do with morality? If you do concede that such headway is, in fact, rooted in man's moral behavior toward his neighbor, do you believe that it could not have been achieved—or man would have no incentive to bring it about—if there were no god? Do you think that, if your god did not exist and we were on our own, that mankind would be incapable of such feats illustrated earlier? If yes is your answer, at the very least, you have a very glim, ill-informed, and pathological view of your fellow man. If yes is your answer, I would not trust you to teach me or my children about moral matters. For, if mankind is capable of reason, and if he is capable of choice, and if he has a biological nature, he must be capable of doing such things well or poorly, better or worse, for good or for evil.

—GCF, May 14, 2023