Spencer Case e-mails:
Greetings from Afghanistan. I’d very much like to hear your response to a sketch of an argument I’m developing. It goes as follows:
1. Suppose an afterlife is obtainable based on one’s performance in this life. If this afterlife is as I understand it, it must have an infinite value while all the goods in this life have only finite values. In fact, the value of afterlife goods (as I clumsily name them) must be infinite on two planes: quantitative and qualitative; quantitative because the duration of the reward is infinite, qualitative because, I assume—and I think, based on some recent blog posts of yours I’ve read, you would agree—no mortal goods, or accumulation of them, can be qualitatively better than the eternal goods to be found in the afterlife, even when we do not consider duration (this not the case with Islamic fundamentalists, who are promised virgins. But let that pass). Perhaps there is even a punitive afterlife with similar disvalue.
I agree with this conception of the afterlife. To put it in a slightly different way, the goods of this life are vanishing quantities axiologically speaking as compared to the goods of the afterlife as portrayed in sophisticated conceptions. (We agree to set aside crude conceptions such as we find in popular Islam: endless disporting with black-eyed virgins, getting to do there all the sensual things that are forbidden here, etc.)
2. If this ranking system is correct, it is hard to see how it could ever be rational for one to pursue any set of mortal goods—no matter how well they rank on the finite scale—when one could spend the same time and resources in the pursuit of the afterlife goods or avoiding afterlife evils, which are both endless in duration and of infinitely great quality. If extreme fasts are pleasing to God, and increase my chances of obtaining salvation by a tiny bit, then the rational thing for me to do is to live in such an ascetic state for as long as possible, unless it prevents me from doing other activities that could do even more to promote my own salvation.
Well, Spencer, you have put your finger on a genuine and serious problem, a problem I will rephrase in my own way. If (i) this world and its finite goods is soon to pass away, and if (ii) one sincerely believes that there is a world to come the value of whose goods infinitely surpasses the values of the goods here below, and if (iii) whether or not one participates in this Higher Life or is excluded from it (either by being sent to the Other Place or by being simply annihilated at death) depends on how one lives in this world, then how can it be rational to pursue mortal goods beyond what is necessary for living in accordance with the precepts of one's religion? The rational course would be to orient all one's activities to the achievement of the afterlife goal.
For example, if a young person is a Roman Catholic and sincerely believes the teachings of his church, especially as regards what are called the Last Things, and this person is free of such encumbrances as children or aged parents to care for, and has the health and other qualifications necessary to join a monastery, then why doesn't the person do so, and join the most rigorous monastery to be found? Wouldn't that be the most rational course of action given (i) the end in view, (ii) one's beliefs about this end, and (iii) one's beliefs about the means for securing this end?
Converts often follow this course. Unlike those who have been brought up in a faith, they are seldom lukewarm. They have found the truth with a majuscule 'T' (they think) and their authenticity demands that they act on it. Thomas Merton, for example, after renouncing his worldly life and joining the RC church was not content to be a good practicing Catholic, or become a parish priest even; no, he had to go all the way and join not just any monastic order but the Trappists! One can appreciate the 'logic' to it. And then there is Edith Stein, the brilliant Jewish assistant of Edmund Husserl. She was not content to convert to Catholicism; she abandoned her academic career and all the usual worldly blandishments (sex, love, children, travel, etc.) to spend the rest of life behind the walls of a strict Carmelite convent until the Nazis murdered her at Auschwitz.
I hope the conversion 'logic' is clear: if in a few short years we will be pitched head first into Kingdom Come, then pursuing and fretting over the baubles of this life is like re-arranging deck chairs on the Titanic.
Let's note en passant that the same 'logic' is found in the thinking of adherents to nonreligious ideologies. Thousands of young people, some of them among the best and the brightest, sacrificed their lives to the Communist illusion in the 20th century. They wasted their lives in pursuit of a fata morgana, while at the same time contributing unintentionally and indirectly to the murder of over 100 million people.
3. Anyone who pursues only afterlife goods in this way is a paradigm case of a religious zealot.
This formulation needs improvement. Merton and Stein did not pursue ONLY afterlife goods. They pursued this-worldly goods too but only insofar as they were instrumental to the achievement of afterlife goods. (I ignore Merton's lapses.) A better formulation is as follows:
3*. Anyone who pursues afterlife goods primarily, and this-worldy goods only insofar as they are instrumental in the achievement of afterlife goods, is a religious zealot.
I can accept (3*), but I would add that being a zealot is not necessarily bad, despite the fact that the word generally carries a pejorative connotation. Aren't we all legitimately zealous when it comes to the preservation of our lives and the lives of those animals and humans in our care? Suppose Al Gore is right, and global warming is about to do us all in, then GW zealotry would be justified would it not?
4. So, accepting these very basic religious propositions makes one rationally committed to religious zealotry and denying our normal reasons for acting.
I don't think your conclusion follows in quite the way you intend it. For one thing, you seem to be assuming that zealotry as such is bad. But surely not all zealotry is bad. To modify a saying of Barry Goldwater: Zealotry in the defense of liberty is no vice! (He had 'extremism' where I have 'zealotry.') You may also be assuming that the religious claims are false. Suppose they are true. Then one would have a good reason for denying/modifying our normal reasons for acting. (The same would hold in the case of nonreligious ideologies.) A 'normal' person, if if he is a practicing adherent of a religion, pursues all sorts of pleasures and diversions which do not advance him toward his spiritual goal, but rather, in many cases, impede his realization of it. The 'normal' Buddhist, for example, does not carry the precept "Conquer desire and aversion!" to the point where he eats whatever is put on his plate. (If a fly lands in his soup he does not practice nondiscrimination and eat the fly with the same relish or lack thereof with which he eats the rest of the soup.) But if our Buddhist really believed Buddhist teachings would it not be rational for him to modify 'normal' behavior and bend every effort towards achieving enlightenment?
What I hope this shows is that religious belief (at least in the religions you and I are most likely to debate about) disallows moderation, which I take it, is a bad thing. What I especially like about this argument is it seems to be an argument that appeals to conservatives, because conservatives are most likely to have strong intuitions against ideologies that tell us to ignore our ordinary reasons for acting.
I think you are right that religious belief, if sincerely professed and lived, disallows moderation of the sort that the average worldly person displays. But it is not just religious belief that has this property. So do many ideologies or action-guiding worldviews. I gave the example of Communism above. Other examples readily come to mind.
You are assuming that moderation of the sort displayed by 'normal' worldly people is a good thing. But if Communism or Catholicism were true, then moderation of that sort would not be good! True-blue reds devoted all their energies to their chimerical Revolution just as true Christians consecrate their lives, without reservation, to Christ. They don't 'hedge their bets' they way most people do. Whether that singlemindedness is good or bad depends on whether the underlying beliefs are true or false. Of course we now know that Communism is a god that failed, but the religious God is safely insulated in a Beyond beyond our ken.
So if your thesis is that sincere belief in an afterlife entails (or maybe only leads to) religious zealotry, and is for that reason objectionable, then I don't think you have made your case. Genuine belief in an afterlife will lead to behavior that is 'abnormal' and 'immoderate' as measured by the standards of the worldly. But this won''t cut any ice unless worldly standards can be shown to be correct and truly normative, not just statistically 'normal.'
Of course, as you’ve no doubt noticed, this argument does not take into account epistemic uncertainty. Uncertainty about the existence of the afterlife might make it more rational for us to go ahead and pursue other goods. I haven’t yet done the research in probability theory, but I’d be willing to guess our levels of epistemic confidence in religious propositions would have to be very low in order for it to be rational to pursue anything else.
This is another important side to the problem of balancing the claims of this world with the claims of the next. People fool themselves into thinking they KNOW all sorts of thinks they merely BELIEVE. Now it seems to me that no imtellectually honest person can claim to KNOW (using this word strictly) that there is an afterlife: the evidence from parapsychology, though abundant, is not conclusive, and the philosophical arguments, though some of them impressive, are not compelling. But I do KNOW the pleasures of good food, and strong coffee, and fine cigars, and chess, and good conversation, and scribbling away as I am now doing, all of them activities which are not necessary for my salvation, and perhaps stand in the way of it. (Not to mention disporting with ladies of the evening, etc.)
So what is the rational thing to do given my epistemic predicament in which what I KNOW is confined to this ephemeral world which cannot be worth much, and my access to the other is via mere belief and the occasional religious/mystical experience whose veridicality is easily called into question?
A difficult question. I don't know that there is an afterlife, and I don't know that there isn't. It strikes me as highly irrational to live for this life alone since it is nasty, brutish, short, miserable, full of natural and moral evil, and of scant value if it doesn't lead to anything beyond it. It also seems irrational to forego every positive value in this world which is not conducive to otherworldly salvation on the strength of mere belief in that otherworldly possibility.
So my tentative answer is that the rational course is to inquire ceaselessly into the matter in a critical, exploratory and tentative spirit; avoid being bamboozled by the dogmas of churches and sects which claim to have the Truth; enjoy the limited goods of this life in a measured way while realizing that, in and of themselves, they are of no ultimate value.
In short, be neither a worldling nor a monk. Be a philosopher! (Not to be confused with being a paid professor of it.)
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