Title: Anti-Morality, Truth And Peace: Beyond Kant And Others

PART I: EPISTEMIC PROBLEMS WITH MORAL THEORIES: NO THEORY CAN BE KNOWN TO BE TRUE OR CLOSE TO TRUTH.

PART I, CHAPTER 1, Section 1: Knowledge, The Moral Regress And Problematic Circularity.

The Introduction implied that skepticism or nihilism[5] is appropriate regarding moral theories and, hence, moral values and concepts. This chapter supports that suggestion by arguing that all moral theories involve an epistemically problematic regress, or an attempt to stop the regress via an epistemically problematic circular assertion. This needs more explanation. Firstly here, ‘X is epistemically problematic’ means X has a problem concerning knowledge:-

E.g., X could be the statement, ‘It is true that the sun goes round Earth’. An epistemic problem here is that X claims to be knowledge, but X is not knowledge. We cannot know X is true or close to truth.

If Y is epistemically justifiable, only then is Y knowledge or so close to truth that it would be epistemically unreasonable to doubt it. E.g., Y could be ‘Earth goes round the sun’. There is so much evidence for this that anyone knowing the evidence would be unreasonable to doubt it. If some statement, S, is not knowledge, it is epistemically justifiable to be skeptical or nihilistic about S. (Skepticism is justified if there is insufficient[6] or no evidence to either confirm or disconfirm S. Nihilism is justified if there is sufficient evidence to prove S wrong.)

By ‘knowledge’ I mean ‘justified, true belief’, namely belief which is true and justified by sufficient evidence. It is not enough to just believe. Centuries ago, when most believed the sun orbits the Earth, this did not make it true that the sun orbits the Earth. And if a belief is true or close to truth, this is not enough to make the belief knowledge. A prehistoric cave-dweller may have believed that humans would invent a way to fly, but because planes and similar had not been invented in prehistoric times, that person did not know that. This is because that person had no evidence. It is (sufficient) evidence which justifies a true belief for us, making it knowledge. Similarly, consider someone today (2004) who believes there are billions of planets on which there is life, in each galaxy. It may be true. Let’s suppose it is. But we do not yet know it is true, because we do not have any evidence (justification) that it is true. We might find evidence of life on some nearby planet(s). But, if we do, this is not evidence that there is now life on billions of other distant planets. We cannot yet observe any such evidence. We lack the resources to investigate.

The definition of knowledge as justified true belief is widely accepted among scientists and philosophers, but as a somewhat loose or slightly vague (though useful and meaningful) definition. There is some controversy. E.g., there is some uncertainty concerning how much evidence is sufficient. (E.g., in previous centuries most believed that standing on Earth and seeing the sun (apparently) moving round oneself from East to West was sufficient evidence that it is true that the sun orbits Earth.)

The type of knowledge this book is primarily concerned with is ‘practicable’ or ‘sufficiently practicable’ knowledge[7]. This is discussed further in later chapters, after a suitable context has been developed. The present chapter is only a preliminary discussion, and this book is primarily intended for undergraduate students of morality. So, for now, as with defining ‘knowledge’ as ‘true, justified belief’, I’ll “paint with broad strokes” instead of in detail. What then, broadly speaking, is ‘practicable knowledge’?:-

We can reliably or predictably practice many things. To the degree we can accurately do this, to that degree we have ‘sufficiently practicable knowledge’. Here we are to that degree close enough to truth for our practical purposes. E.g., we can have sufficient knowledge to fairly reliably do such very difficult things as control diabetes and land spacecrafts on the moon. When we can predict a moon-landing on the basis of a scientific theory, and the predictions are reliably confirmed, the theory is, for the practical purpose of a moon landing, epistemically justified or unproblematic[8]. Here too, the definition I’m using of ‘knowledge’ or ‘epistemically justified’ is somewhat loose or approximate, in that it can include the notion ‘close to the truth’. Here, we can plausibly said to have (sufficient practicable) knowledge if a spacecraft lands ‘sufficiently’ close to the point predicted by the theory used — namely sufficiently close so there is no impracticability regarding what the scientists aim to achieve, e.g., to collect certain types of moon rocks. So a theory might not be exactly confirmed in that the spacecraft lands, say, 30 metres from where the theory predicts. But this error of far less than 1 percent over the distance from Earth to the moon means that for practical purposes the theory used is sufficiently close to the truth. Here we have sufficiently justified (evidenced), sufficiently true belief, i.e., sufficiently practicable knowledge. The evidence justifying the physics theory used to direct the spacecrafts includes the fact that the spacecrafts reliably land sufficiently close to where the theory predicts. So the theory is knowledge.

That is temporarily enough discussion of what I mean by ‘(practicable) knowledge’, ‘epistemically justifiable’ and related notions. The next paragraph begins an application of such notions to moral theories. Again, the above discussion of those notions is a simplification. They are explained further in various contexts below.

The first application of that discussion of knowledge is the following discussion of an epistemically problematic moral regress:-

When someone states that something, e.g., not murdering, is valued by their moral theory, we can ask, “How do you know?”. (Or, equivalently, “What evidence do you have for this?”) If they try to justify their statement, we can ask the same of their alleged justification — and so on, never reaching a fundamental premise which is epistemically unproblematic or knowledge. That is, ‘regress’ means something like ‘moving backwards or down’. Here we move from a moral argument’s conclusion, e.g., ‘Don’t murder’, down to its foundation, the fundamental premise of the argument or theory. Consider the following regress:-

Suppose Frank states, “Jones was wrong to murder Harrison”. You say to Frank, “How do you know?” The next step in the regress is Frank’s answer: “Because no-one ought to murder”. You ask, “How do you know?”. Frank answers, “Because murder takes away a person’s right to life”. Here Frank can try to stop the regress by making a fundamental claim. Suppose he claims there is a fundamental right to life. That is, he has regressed to what he believes is the foundation for all his other, previously-mentioned claims concerning murder. This is his basic reason for not murdering. Yet here too you ask, “How do you know persons have a right to life?”. Frank might say, “We are born with such rights”. This is just a way of re-stating, ‘Persons have a right to life’. So this and any other repetition takes him no further. You can enquire “How do you know?”. Here, or at some other equivalent point in the regress, Frank will simply say something like: “We just do have that right. I just know (or believe) we do.” Here, if you keep asking, “How do you know?”, and Frank answers, you keep getting that same answer, or something equivalent. (Equivalently, you could ask, “If you know this, you must have evidence for it, because knowledge is a belief for which you have sufficient evidence. So please tell me the evidence.”)

In sum, Frank tries to end the regress by merely asserting, without evidence, that there is some firm ground or premise on which to base his moral theory. In that there is no epistemically justifiable way to stop a moral regress, a moral regress is, from an epistemic viewpoint, an infinite regress, i.e., an unstoppable regress. It is only epistemically justifiably stoppable by evidence sufficient to show that the argument or theory is fundamentally based only on knowledge. But with morality, any attempt at an epistemically justifiable stopping point fails. As I’ll argue shortly, the regress descends into an epistemic vacuum.

Various claims other than ‘A right to life’ could be asserted as a reason for not murdering. E.g., ‘Murder takes away the victim’s freedom; we are all fundamentally naturally free, and this ultimate good ought to be preserved.’; and ‘Murder normally makes other people unhappy, including the victim’s relatives and friends; and we should always only do what normally makes most people happiest’. But any such moral claim or argument, namely statements involving a term such as ‘ought’ or ‘should’, is ultimately only an assertion, a belief without evidence. What evidence, what epistemic justification, is there for the claim that we should always only do what normally makes most people happiest? There can be evidence for part of some such argument, but not for the whole argument or its moral foundation and conclusion. E.g., there is ample evidence that, e.g., if solitary psychopaths murder much-loved persons, this on-average makes more people unhappy than it makes happy. But this is a factual issue, a quite different issue from the moral issue of whether we ought[9] to always only do what makes most people happiest[10]. And so on, for all other moral claims concerning murder, and for all moral claims concerning everything else, e.g., sex.

Regarding science, a parallel situation would be, e.g., to assert that some herb will cure disease D, without ever seeking evidence regarding whether the herb can cure D. Or it could be like people widely believing that the herb will cure D, but only because those people would feel happier if the herb cured D. What would make us happy regarding some scientific issue has nothing to do with whether any assertion concerning the issue is true. Such assertions would not be called knowledge. And so on, for all other possible parallels here. In sum, in science’s sphere it is irrational or epistemically questionable to simply assert that a belief is true unless there is sufficient evidence (justification) for the belief.

But why compare science with morality? A moral theorist could say this is inappropriate because the so-called moral sphere is separate from science’s sphere, and that each sphere has its own way to justify theories. However, in the so-called moral sphere, any of countless mutually-conflicting moral theories is (allegedly) justified according to itself[11]. Points mentioned in the Introduction are relevant here:-

To believe something is to believe it is true or close to the truth. What else could ‘believe’ mean? (E.g., to believe S is false is to disbelieve S.) So a justified belief is a belief which has been justified as true or close to the truth – as opposed, e.g., to being (allegedly) justified by some moral standard. That is, a justified belief is knowledge, namely a justified true (or close to true) belief. Thence, if someone believes a moral theory, they believe that the theory is true or close to the truth. If the theory is also justified, then the theory is known to be true or close to truth. That is, ‘justified’ really means ‘epistemically justified’, i.e., known to be true or close to the truth.

Relatedly, because ‘believe’ means ‘believe true’, to believe X inherently means to think that one knows X. (Truth alone is that which we can know. E.g., we cannot know that 1+2 is 7; here we can only know that 1+2 is 3.) And the concept ‘know’ is an epistemic issue. So every moral and other belief is inherently an epistemic issue. That is, every belief’s justifiability inherently and only means its epistemic justifiability. The question, ‘Can this belief, e.g., a moral theory, be justified?’, means ‘Can it be epistemically justified?’.

These concepts are inextricably interrelated, or equivalent. E.g., to believe that a moral theory is justified is to believe it is true that it is justified, that one knows it is justified and hence true. Here the unavoidable issue of epistemic justifiability arises again.

In sum, to coherently investigate the believability of a moral theory can only mean to investigate whether it is epistemically justified. (With this, all believers in a moral theory do at least implicitly believe their theory is epistemically justifiable. This book tries to develop a practical theory which actually is epistemically justifiable, partly by thoroughly and explicitly investigating what ‘epistemically justified’ means. Even if that argument claiming an equivalence between ‘justified’ and ‘epistemically justified’ is not sound, the book can be seen as investigating whether we can have an epistemically justifiable practical theory.)

Now the notion, ‘X is epistemically justified’, is clearly applicable in science’s sphere. So, if a moral theory is to be justified, namely epistemically justified, that scientifically applicable notion must also apply in fundamentally the same way, or an equivalent way, in the so-called moral sphere. Otherwise there would be incoherence or a contradiction, within knowledge as a whole. Yet points above suggest that the notion ‘X is epistemically justified’ cannot be applied to moral theories.

This suggests that moral theories can never coherently be said to be justified. The rest of Part I will argue further that they can never be justified, i.e., in any meaningful, coherent or epistemic sense. They can only be problematically believed to be justified.

Next here, consider the fact that there are mutually-contradictory moral theories, each claiming to be justified. A coherent definition of ‘justified’ includes the notion that if one theory is justified, then theories (or parts of them) conflicting with it are not justified — because of the same evidence. The same evidence confirms that theory and disconfirms any theory conflicting with it — as with modern evidence concerning ‘Earth goes round the sun’ versus ‘The sun goes round Earth’. A theory cannot be justified by evidence or a claim which contradicts the evidence or a claim (allegedly) justifying a conflicting theory. What if mutually-contradictory scientific theories were all justified, or knowledge, in the way that believers in mutually-contradictory moral theories believe their theories are justified? If so, we would know both that the sun orbits Earth, and that Earth orbits the sun. In other words, the alleged ways to justify moral theories are not epistemically justifiable. Those ways are merely beliefs.

Summing up recent points:- They suggest there is an at least indirect epistemic reason to compare attempts at justification in morality with justification in science, and that morality fails here. (But much more needs to be said. It will be later shown that there are other epistemically justifiable reasons for comparing them, and that morality definitely fails.)

An epistemically unquestionable basis or foundation for a moral theory can never be arrived at. A moral theory rests on what its believers only imagine to be firm ground. It rests on nothing substantial at all, or an epistemic vacuum. In other words, they rest on nonsense — as in a extension of Jeremy Bentham’s argument that (alleged) fundamental moral rights are “nonsense on stilts”. That is, moral theories are nonsense parading pretentiously as knowledge or truth. E.g., it is widely believed that there is a right to life, a right to liberty, and so on. Such foundational beliefs are as if they were pulled out of the air — or out of a vacuum, which is of course impossible, because there is nothing in a vacuum. Knowledge is supported by evidence. Moral notions cannot even be epistemically justifiably supported by metaphorical stilts, because such stilts must rest on the firm ground of evidence, not on a vacuum.

With this, arguments above suggest that what believers in a moral theory see as justification of their theory is problematically circular. And if a problematically circular argument can verify one moral theory, then another such circular argument can verify an opposing moral theory. What is problematic circularity?:-

Frank’s fundamental assertion, his (and any) attempt to stop a moral regress, involves problematic circularity. The circularity is due to Frank ultimately only saying that you ought not to murder because you ought not to murder. He claims that we ought not to murder because murder is wrong. But something one believes is morally wrong is something one believes people ought not to do, and vice versa. So all Frank is saying is that murder is wrong because murder is wrong. This is equivalent to saying that most healthy leaves look green because they have something in them which causes them to look green; i.e., they are (caused to look) green because they are (caused to look) green. Or, rain is falling because water is falling from clouds in drops; i.e., rain is falling because rain is falling. This is meaningless in that it is only repetition. It explains and justifies nothing.

The form of that argument is circular, i.e., it states that C is D because C is D, or that X is X because X is X. The meaninglessness here regarding justifying a moral claim means that here there is an epistemic vacuum. Using the same circular form, we can validly say, e.g., that red is 4 because red is 4, leaves are normally blue because leaves are normally blue, the moon is marshmallow because the moon is marshmallow, and so on. If such a circular argument can justify murder being wrong, it can justify anything, including the opposite: ‘Murder is right because murder is right’.

Another way of showing that such circular arguments are epistemically problematic is to show they involve ‘begging the question’. If Frank begs the question, the argument he uses to allegedly prove X assumes that X is already proven. It uses a statement as the alleged evidence for the statement. X is believed to be the evidence for X, for itself. A non-analytic statement[12], such as ‘Murder is wrong’ or ‘Murder is right’, is epistemically justified only if there is sufficient evidence for it outside of the statement, e.g., in publicly observable reality. That is, empirical evidence, or an argument soundly based on such evidence, can justify the premise or foundation of an argument. E.g., the evidence for why healthy leaves tend to be green relates to the well-evidenced fact that evolution tends to select those chemicals which are most useful regarding survival-necessary events in plant physiology, namely, here, photosynthesis and related events. We can observe that it is (close to) the truth that the most useful chemicals here look green[13]. We cannot do anything like this for any moral statement, e.g., ‘Murder is wrong’, ‘Murder is right’ or ‘There is a right to life’.

In sum, a problematic regress is unavoidable regarding moral theory because any attempt to stop a regress here fails due to the attempt involving mere assertions, without evidence, and the assertions involve a circularity which is problematic because it involves begging the question. There is an epistemic vacuum here.

An act, X, can be believed to be justified because it comes under some theory, T, which advocates some value or concept, V. E.g., Joseph can believe that the act ‘Freely express your opinion whenever you like’ is justified because he believes in a moral theory which values (his) freedom above all else. But, instead of that particular X, and that value, (i.e., freedom,) innumerable other, mutually conflicting acts and values or concepts can be substituted for X and V. Every possible moral theory can thereby be covered. Joseph believes his X is justified. But this only means he at least implicitly thinks X is justified relative to V.

A different X, e.g., ‘Say only what will not hurt someone’, can be believed justified because it comes under V1, ‘Never hurt a person’. And ‘Say only what is true’ can be believed justified because it comes under V2, ‘Always be honest’. The latter two Xs (and hence Vs) can conflict with Joseph’s ‘total free speech’ X (and V). (Joseph’s false opinion concerning Sally, e.g., ‘Sally is a child molester’, can hurt Sally. A true statement, coming under V2, e.g., ‘Larry, everyone who knows you dislikes you; they only politely pretend to like you’, can hurt. Under V1, free expression of such honest statements would be believed unjustified.)

A central point here is that any act can appear justified, relative to some evaluative standard — and that the epistemic problem here is whether that standard can be epistemically justified. Sharing can appear justified via the standard, ‘fairness’. But can fairness be epistemically justified[14]? Being (apparently or believed) justifiable relative to some value or standard has nothing to do with whether the standard itself really is epistemically justified. If epistemic justifiability in the so-called moral sphere was achievable relative to some moral standard, we would still be left with the following epistemic problem: which standard, among fairness, selfishness (and hence a type of unfairness), unselfishness, freedom, authority/obedience, honesty, dishonesty, equality, inequality, and so on, is the one we can all know is the true standard? If we cannot know, and it seems we cannot know, then if an act among mutually-conflicting acts is justifiable via or relative to some standard, any act at all is justifiable..

If this was the case in science, the situation would be ridiculous. It would be impossible. It would, e.g., be epistemically justified and practicable knowledge that a stone you let go of a metre above the ground will move towards the ground, towards the sky, go sideways or remain suspended in mid-air. In maths, e.g., ‘1+2’ could truly be 7 or 43, etc, or a dog’s bark, a pancake, and so on. Clearly, epistemic justifiability cannot involve mutually-contradictory things being true or close to the truth.

In the so-called moral sphere, if mutually-conflicting acts or theories are all somehow justifiable, we might as well toss a coin to choose among them. We could not know that just one act or theory among them is justified. We could not know that we should do this rather than that act. (And, often, if we committed one act we believed is as justified as the contrary act, this would rule out the contrary or alternatives to that act. E.g., if Jean murders Jim, this rules out not murdering him.)

So, the epistemic situation regarding morality is as impossible as justification relative to simply any standard would be in science. As Part II will argue further, science has just one ultimate or most general standard, a standard which rules out the justifiability of conflicting theories, via the standard involving observation[15]. E.g., we can observe what happens to stones we let go of. Theories in science are only justifiable relative to that single, ultimate epistemic standard, i.e., relative to sufficient evidence.

A common defence of a morality here is to claim that there is one true standard by which a morality (or act or value) is justifiably assessed, and it is ‘Goodness’, or ‘Right’[16]. This involves asking, ‘Is the X advocated by this moral theory truly good (or right)?’. Points above imply that this defence has implicitly the same basic problems as the moral arguments discussed above:-

Push the defender here down a regress and all we end up with is a vacuous, problematically circular argument such as ‘X is good because X is good’, ‘X is good because ‘good’ means ‘doing X’, and if one does X this means one is good’, i.e., ‘Good is good’, or ‘We should do X because X is right, and we should do what is right because that which is right is what we should do’, i.e., ‘We should do what we should do’, i.e., ‘Right is right’. In sum, ‘good’ or ‘right’ is at least implicitly merely asserted to be X, and, circularly, vice versa. This again allows X to be contradictory things, e.g., ‘Never abort foetuses’ and ‘Abort foetuses if the mother wishes’. The alleged standard, the abstract term ‘goodness’, or ‘right’, when given specific, practicable definition, ends up being just another relative moral standard among many. With this, as with Frank and the regress above, the defender can ultimately only assert something like ‘X simply is good’, along with an epistemically vacuous answer if you ask, ‘How do you know X is good?’.

(Emotion-based defences of a moral theory, such as ‘X is right because I (or we all normally) feel it is right’, are discussed later, partly via Kant’s criticisms of such theories and defences. Such defences are argued to have the same basic problems discussed in the present chapter. Points in this chapter can be adapted to apply to them.)

A moral theory which is (allegedly) justified relative to some standard is a moral theory which is (allegedly) justified via a problematic circular argument. Yet this is all moral theories can do. Hence they are all epistemically problematic. With this, the form of this circular argument, if it could justify, would justify mutually-contradictory acts or theories.

Some circular arguments are not epistemically problematic. This is because any sound argument, i.e., an epistemically justifiable argument, namely with a valid form and true premise(s), contains its conclusion in its premise(s). E.g., consider the sound argument: ‘All plants, to survive, need to photosynthesise. P1 is a plant. Therefore, if you want P1 to survive, ensure it gets sufficient light (and water etc).’ This is circular because P1 in the conclusion also belongs within the notion ‘plants (i.e., P1, P2, etc)’ in the premise. The argument could be restated as ‘P1 and all other plants need light because P1 and all other plants need light’. However, this circularity is not epistemically problematic because there is sufficient evidence outside the statement, ‘All plants need light (if they are to survive)’, for the statement. The evidence is in publicly observable reality. Every observed plant denied light for a certain period has not survived[17]. So that statement is justifiable — relative to the observation and related sound arguments involved in science, i.e., relative to the standard, ‘Sufficient evidence’.

Suppose that an argument, a theory, which is not a moral theory, can solve the problems moral theories have — and be epistemically justifiably applicable in the so-called moral sphere. Suppose this theory is based at least indirectly on the fundamental or most general standard of science. This would surely be a sound practical reason to compare morality with science. This book argues there is such a theory — and that there is a sound argument, and hence necessarily circular argument, but not epistemically problematic argument, which epistemically justifies that standard and the theory based on it.

In sum:- Moral arguments are all unsound: they do not have premises which are true or close to truth. They are not epistemically justifiable. Moral theories are too problematic. Science is epistemically justifiable, and may be able to help here, at least indirectly.

However, much more needs to be said here. This chapter is only making preliminary points. As the book develops, I’ll argue further that there is no evidence for the fundamental premise or basis of any moral theory.

PART I, CHAPTER 1, Section 2: Philosophical And Related Psychological And Social Issues.

The above suggests that, to believe a moral theory is to believe something for which there is no evidence. That is, there is nothing we can know here (except the meta-knowledge that there is nothing we can know here). I’ve argued that this is a major philosophical problem. It is also a major psychological problem and can lead to major problems for societies. (I’m writing this book as a philosopher, psychologist and sociologist.):-

Morality was defined above broadly enough to include all political, legal, economic and similar concepts. So this chapter so far suggests that the foundations of every past and present society’s (political, legal, economic etc) institutions are imaginary. It suggests they are nonsense on stilts, or unsound, and epistemically unjustifiable. This applies to any individual’s socially-acquired moral reasons for actions. This can include such things as someone’s reasons for not murdering, and includes the reasons for a legal system’s prohibition of murder. (Later I’ll argue that murder is unjustifiable, and that a certain type of society is justifiable, though because of reasons (evidence) other than any moral reasons.)

Many societies, regarding some issues, consider people who believe something for which there is no evidence as insane. They are said to be delusional or hallucinating. E.g., a person who believes they see a duck on a chair, when no-one else can, would be considered insane in at least most societies. Yet if most in such a society believe in some moral theory, they tend not to be considered delusional or insane. Because nearly everyone believes some moral theory, it’s usually not seen as psychologically or epistemically problematic. Within a society this is universally so regarding the society’s view of a person who believes the main theory believed in that society. (Something similar applies regarding religious belief.)

The delusion regarding morality is plausibly more severe than insanity regarding something like an imagined duck on a chair. There is at least a possibility that it is true that a duck could be on a chair, because there are real ducks, which can sit on real chairs. But it is not even possible for a morality to be true or known to be true. So the delusion regarding morality is like a delusory belief that chairs can grown wings, become part duck, and fly away. We could see a duck on a chair, but not a flying duck-chair. Seeing morality as based on a firm foundation is a widely-accepted major delusion. Here, the familiar is the strange. That is, the statistically normal is epistemically strange: the commonly-believed is objectively unbelievable.

This is a major philosophical problem because we must at least implicitly use some action-guiding theory each time we intentionally act. Underlying each intended act or practice, X, there is an at least implicit theory[18]. (This claims either (i) that it is justified to do X rather than Y, so X is a duty; or (ii) that it is justified that X is as permissible as Y, so it’s not unjustified to do X rather than Y. It is impossible to intentionally do something without a reason, because there is at least implicitly the reason that you think you are duty-bound or permitted to do it. And if this is not your fundamental reason, there is an at least implicit fundamental reason or justification for that reason — discoverable via a regress.) A reason for an act is a theory. A philosophical problem here is: if we can only base our intended practices on some moral theory, and all moral theories are unjustifiable, what do we do, and why?

The epistemic appropriateness of moral skepticism or nihilism can also be a major social-psychological problem. This is because widespread moral doubt or nihilism involves people seeing no justifiable reason for anything they or others do. They see only a moral vacuum. This can mean hopelessness, with life seeming pointless. People can despair. It can also mean some thinking there is no reason not to do any act they feel like, e.g., rape. Such views and associated feelings mean that many persons cannot feel at peace, and that society is not at peace.

This book is partly an attempt to deal with those related major problems. (Here, in relation to the previous paragraph’s last sentence, is one reason why the word ‘peace’ is part of the book’s title.) I’ll call the central issue here ‘the moral vacuum problem’. The book is also partly an attempt to persuade all who believe in some moral theory to rationally examine that belief, and to thereby stop believing. That is, I’ll argue that all need to see there is a moral vacuum, and that this is a problem — the solution to which lies outside of moral theory.

To not see there is a moral vacuum will be argued to be another major problem. This I’ll call ‘the problem of moral belief’. This is believing in some moral theory, which means believing without evidence. It means one believes one knows some moral theory to be true or objective, though no-one can have such knowledge.

Another social-psychological problem of moral belief is that countless persons, due to believing in some moral theory, have hated, imprisoned, tortured or killed other persons. When there is war between societies, at least one moral belief tends to be crucially involved. Nazism’s belief that (alleged) Aryans were superior and had the moral duty or right to enslave or kill others is but one example here. Such beliefs are, epistemically speaking, false, i.e., irrational. Psychologically speaking, such beliefs are among the most dangerous sociopathic types of moral and hence delusory beliefs.

If all such beliefs can be shown to lack evidence, this is partly what is needed to solve that problem — ending the potential for such conflicts or war[19]. (This is another reason why the book’s title includes the word ‘peace’.)

Another epistemically-related social-psychological and philosophical problem with moral beliefs is that they tend to be gullibly just taken for granted, via their social source (e.g., parents or a religion) being trusted unquestioningly. In other words, the problem is that there tends to be no individual epistemic autonomy here. That is, each unquestioning believer (1) tends to simply allow some other person(s) to instil the belief in the believer; and (2) does not check for themselves, as a free rational agent, whether there are other, independent, epistemically justifiable reasons for believing. (With this, un-autonomous millions have been willing to obey others’ commands to kill or die for their unquestioned and hence imaginarily firm beliefs.) With that lack of autonomy goes a partial lack of personal responsibility[20] for what one believes and, thence, intentionally does.

In conclusion here:- Human psychology and society involve an epistemically problematic tendency — namely to not reflect critically and sufficiently deeply in certain areas. The so-called moral sphere, in that it involves the question, ‘How should one live?’, is the most important area here. According to many moral beliefs, trust among persons is a worthwhile, justifiable thing. But for persons to blindly trust or be influenced to trust any social (e.g., peer-group) source of a moral belief is epistemically unjustifiable. Epistemic autonomy is epistemically justifiable, because it means seeking independent evidence for beliefs. Never questioning moral beliefs or their sources can lead to conflict among persons and societies, and great suffering. Informed moral disbelief, or a rationally critical anti-moral theory, is an aspect of the epistemic autonomy needed to solve such problems. And epistemic autonomy regarding morality is not very difficult, because one merely needs to conduct an honest enquiry into the social source’s claims, asking whether there is evidence for them. Pushing the source down a regress is useful here. It would soon become clear there is no evidence. Similarly regarding enquiring into any moral beliefs oneself has. (Similarly concerning religion.)

PART I, CHAPTER 1, Section 3: The Need For An Epistemically Unquestionable, Authoritative, Objective Solution.

I’ve said we need a solution to the above-mentioned problems — something positive, a theory to replace the moral vacuum left by moral disbelief. This assumes that we need a theory here at all. This assumption was investigated in the previous section, mainly in a footnote. But, some further points:-

Some see moral theory as so questionable that they conclude we can never have a coherent, justifiable theory to live by. Some argue that all moral theories are nonsense, and that we do not need nonsense — so we should just forget searching for a justifiable theory and simply get on with life.

But ‘simply getting on with life’ involves the moral theory claiming that a justifiable moral theory is: ‘Forget searching for a(nother) theory and simply get on with life’. This, specifically, further involves believing a moral theory which claims it is justified to get on with a specific type of life. This often means believing the highly questionable moral theory that oneself should unquestionably conform to whatever moral theory is dominant in the society one just happens to be in. So, those born in capitalist societies tend to simply go along with the capitalist system. And so on.

So, effectively, or in practice, those who claim to disbelieve moral theories accept and hence believe some moral theory. (The exception is those who replace moral theories with an epistemically justifiable practical theory, as discussed in Part II.)

All moral believers, and all such moral alleged disbelievers, make choices. As Nietzsche said, every chosen or intended practice involves some theory, involving an evaluative perspective. In other words, as discussed above, any theory or intended practice is relative to some standard. Even moral skeptics and nihilists make choices which they at least assume they ought to be permitted to put into practice. This ‘ought’ assumption is their standard, and involves a moral theory (unless it is an epistemically justifiable practical theory). Their choices or theory include(s) their choices to live, to eat etc, and to attack moral theories (other than the theory involved in that assumption).

In sum, even if we believe we have rejected all moral theories, we must either practice some theory applicable to the how-should-one-live sphere, or be unconscious or dead so that we cannot intentionally act.

But which theory should we have? Again, as Socrates suggests, this is a most serious question, for it concerns how (and whether) one should live.

If we think that whatever theory we apply will be nonsense, this is too problematic. Here we’d have the skeptical or nihilist meta-theory claiming that any prescriptive theory is as good as any other. This implies that it does not matter which theory we practice. Here the meta-theory implies that any act, X, is as acceptable as any alternative to X. Murder and suicide would be as acceptable as not murdering and not suiciding. Raping and then eating our children would be as good as not doing so. And so on.

If all action-guiding theories are merely unjustifiable beliefs, or nonsense, how do we decide what to do? We could toss a coin to decide by chance, or suicide due to despair. Yet any such basis for decisions is based on a moral theory, namely one stating it is justifiably right or permissible to use chance to decide, or to suicide, and so on.

Or, you might decide to do whatever seems most prudent regarding avoiding painful consequences for yourself. But this is also acting on a moral theory. It says you ought to do what avoids pain for you. And so on, for any choice made here. It is epistemically unquestionable that we must have some theory.

If we autonomously look deeply, openly, honestly and carefully at the theory we practise, we will check whether the theory can be justified — as opposed to just taking the theory for granted, trustingly. As we must have a theory, an open honesty, involving a search for truth or epistemic justifiability, demands we attempt to justify whatever theory we have. And, if this cannot be done, it demands we search for a theory we can justify.

‘Justification’ implies authority. If a general scientific theory is sufficiently justified, it gains the status of a law: the theory is authoritative. When someone seeks a moral theory they can justify, they seek a theory with authority. Only an authoritative action-guiding theory can give us the knowledge that its prescriptions alone are justified, in that alternative theories lack authority[21]. That is, they lack justification. We need to know, and feel, that what we do is justified. If we think all theories are nonsense, lacking authority or justification, we think there’s no point in doing one thing rather than another. With this, we would not be at peace regarding what we do. We would lack the psychological peace achievable by thinking we have acted justifiably, i.e., with justified authority.

If we could prove that some omniscient god(s)[22] exist, many people believe that this would provide such an authority. Yet, as Bentham suggests, even if we can know that some god(s) exist(s), there is the further problem of how to know which moral theory comes from the god(s). Christians, for example, differ greatly regarding what they think the god they believe in says they ought to do. Similarly for Muslims, Jews, Hindus and so on. However, there seems to be no evidence for the claim that only one coherent god or set of gods exists. There are only various claims, e.g., amounting to the problematic claim that, of the innumerable competing alleged gods or sets of gods, X is the only one, and X exists because X exists. And for any one alleged god there are only claims, conflicting claims, regarding the moral prescriptions allegedly commanded by the alleged god. Having faith that some alleged god(s) exist(s) is no help. Different people have deep faith regarding different, mutually-contradictory alleged gods. Various comments above concerning belief apply to faith. Faith in X means to think that X is the case — with absolutely no evidence. This is a type of belief as such in X, as opposed to knowledge. (Moral belief (faith) is much the same as religious belief (faith) here.)

And, as some ancient Greek philosophers realised, there is the further problem that, if a god exists and commands us to follow a certain moral theory, is the theory true only because the god commands it, or does the god command it because it is independently true? If the former, then the theory as such is arbitrary in that any of many mutually-contradictory theories could have been chosen by the god to be the truth. (Here, ‘Do murder’ would be as good or as likely a choice as ‘Don’t murder’. And so on.)

And by what standard would the theory or truth here be chosen? Would the god toss a coin, to choose via chance? By what standard would that method of choosing via chance be justifiable? If a different, non-chance, moral standard (e.g., a right-to-life standard) was used, then how would the god choose this and justify doing so? Because that standard was the true one? Or ...? And so on. Here too there is a type of insoluble regress, involving issues incomprehensible to us. For us, it’s an epistemic vacuum.

Such issues, choices etc seem hardly satisfactory from a human, epistemically autonomous viewpoint — if such a viewpoint could exist in a universe where a god alone decides what will be (or appear?) true, i.e., epistemically justified, to us. We could not never independently or autonomously know what is the truth here. With this, the authority for the theory would be a problematic or arbitrary authority. This book is investigating the possibility of what would be, for us, an epistemically justifiable theory applicable to the how-should-one-live sphere. So far it seems that a religious authority would not solve the problems discovered by that investigation.

Suppose the god prescribes the theory because the theory is true independently for us, i.e., independently of whether the god exists or prescribes it. Here the god is not the authority which justifies the theory. The theory would be epistemically justified, by evidence sufficient for us and the god to know the theory is true. This independent evidence would provide authority for the theory. The god would be irrelevant here. We could independently or autonomously discover the authority for ourselves. But, despite humanity’s best efforts over millennia, we don’t seem to have discovered an epistemically justifiable moral (or religious) theory.

For such reasons, many reject the possibility of and/or need for a supernatural authority, seeing the idea of such an authority as nonsense, lacking evidence. (With this I agree.)

Instead, some seek a natural authority. Major contenders here are human nature and natural selection, or an interrelation of them. Yet, as with alleged supernatural beings, there are many competing, confusing possibilities here. Here we meet the ‘is-ought’ problem (implied previously, and discussed further, later.) This is the problem that, whatever is the case, this does not in-itself imply what ought to be the case: there seems to be an unbridgeable gap between ‘is’ and ‘ought’. For moral theories, this is another insoluble epistemic problem. One aspect of this insolubility is that there can be differing plausible[23] views concerning what is the case. So, if an ‘is’ does imply an ‘ought, then differing plausible views about what is the case can imply contradictory ‘oughts’. So here we cannot know which ‘ought’ to put into practice. This is very clear regarding typical views on what is the case regarding human nature. E.g., both competitiveness and co-operativeness have been plausibly claimed as primary aspects of human nature, due to their selective advantages. Some persons believe that the ‘is’, natural competitiveness, implies that they ought to practise this ‘is’. E.g., Nazis argued that natural selection involves survival of the fittest races, and that the fittest are those most successful in competing against (alleged) other races for resources, including power. Thence, the Nazis argued, war would be the best way to allow the fittest to survive and become morally justifiably dominant. Others see the most co-operative humans as those most likely to be naturally selected. E.g., plausibly, co-operation tends to be more efficient than non-co-operation, and if families and tribe members co-operate in getting food etc needed to care for their children, their genes are more likely to be passed on than if the individuals here don’t co-operate or do compete selfishly and aggressively among themselves. Some believe this plausible ‘is’ implies that we ought to co-operate world-wide, and hence avoid war. In sum, even if an ‘is’ can imply only one ought, there can be conflicting plausible views regarding what ‘is’ — so we cannot know what we ought to do.

There are other aspects of human nature which have been claimed to be central, or primary. The overall view seems to be that human nature somewhat involves a mix of opposing tendencies, e.g., competitiveness and co-operativeness, selfishness and unselfishness, and a desire for peace and a desire to be brutal, and that in differing environments different tendencies can be the most survival-helpful. But, if this or some other mixture is the overall natural ‘is’, specifically how ought we to act on it? A ‘mixture of opposing tendencies, in relation to what is survival-helpful in changeable environments’ is a very ambiguous, vague notion. The ‘is’ situation here seems too confusing to provide any single, unquestionable authority for a moral theory. (The issue of ‘Why is survival an ‘ought’, or justifiable?’ arises here too. It is discussed soon.)

A confusing or mixed ‘is’, consisting of conflicting natural aspects, can imply different, conflicting oughts. This suggests yet another problem, another aspect of the is-ought issue, compounding the just-mentioned problems:-

Each of various mutually-contradictory ‘oughts’ can be believed by different persons to be implied by the very same ‘is’, even an agreed-on, unmixed and unconfusing ‘is’. E.g., different persons could agree that the following is the case: ‘Due to human nature being basically somewhat selfish, there is some competition for resources, and some groups (e.g., nations and classes) get many times more resources than do other groups’. Some persons here believe that this means that such competition and resulting inequality ought to continue. Other persons look at the same ‘is’ and decide that such competition and resulting inequality ought not to continue.

If there was no epistemic gap between an ‘is’ and a moral ‘ought’, we would know that any such ‘is’ implies only one ‘ought’. This would be parallel to us knowing that ‘1+2=3’ implies (via doubling,) that 2+4 is 6, or that if it is the case that all humans can die, then this implies that John, who is a human, can die. Regarding ‘2+4=?’, we know that only one answer, 6, is implied. Regarding the possibility of John dying, here we know that only one answer is implied. Different persons can believe in different answers, but they cannot know there are different, mutually-contradictory true answers. Similarly for oughts. In morality, where there can only be belief, the gap between any true ‘is’ and a believed ‘ought’ is at least implicitly believed by the believer to be bridged by the believer’s morality. This involves problematic circularity[24], so points above apply here.

In sum, the contenders for a natural authority considered so far are inadequate. However, moral theorists such as David Hume suggest there might be a different type of natural authority. This involves human sentiments felt nearly universally in certain situations by mature normal persons familiar with certain facts concerning the situations. Hume can be interpreted as suggesting that these sentimental reactions mean that a moral theory based on them is as close as a moral theory can get to an equivalent to objectivity in science, i.e., epistemic justifiability. This argument may be a way to bridge the is-ought gap[25], at least in a way as close to epistemic justifiability as is possible for a moral theory:-

Such a theory admits that human nature involves a mix of opposing emotions or sentiments, but also plausibly argues that some emotional reactions naturally normally predominate. E.g., regarding the issue of how to treat one’s children, suppose the facts include: the children seem likely to grow up to be useful members of society, and one’s society seems to have sufficient resources to feed the children and all its other members, long-term. In such situations, mature normal parents commonly have a sentiment motivating them to feed and otherwise care for their children, rather than, e.g., killing or eating them[26]. Here the normal parental reaction, e.g., to the sight of their hungry or crying child, would be to feel and hence believe that the child should be loved, pitied, comforted, helped and so on. Such sentiments would evolve as normal. E.g., consider persons with a gene motivating them to murder or not care for their children. The children would be unlikely to live long enough to pass on that gene. It would be naturally selected out of the normal gene pool. So, normally, parents care greatly for their children. That is, some prescriptions are naturally in us, hard-wired in our brains by evolution. Thence, normal mature humans naturally tend to think it morally right to care for their children, and morally wrong to murder them.

(However, in some cases this is outweighed, e.g., during a famine, by adults believing it to be of higher moral worth to only feed persons who are, say, between 8 and 50 years old and productive. This can mean more likelihood of passing on a group’s genes than if all were fed. Trying to feed all could mean no-one gets sufficient to survive and pass on genes. Again, here there is a mix of opposing effective motivations. (Effectively, caring parents can sometimes be motivated to commit infanticide.) But, plausibly, the mix evolved because different motivations are on average differentially useful regarding passing on genes in different situations.)

There are some moral beliefs which have remained more or less widely believed, judging by (often limited) historical/archeological evidence, but others have ceased to be widely believed, or change. The beliefs which seemed to have been widespread throughout history include the belief that one should care for and not murder one’s children (perhaps in all but extreme situations, such as famine). This is because the historically-lasting moral beliefs tend to be motivated by sentiments naturally selected because, on average, they motivate humans in ways enabling their genes to be passed on. These sentiments are necessary for a society to survive. So societies, if they have survived, must have had the moral beliefs thereby-motivated as their core, natural morality. Any society which suddenly changed from this core moral theory, e.g., to advocating always murdering children, would only last about one generation. Beyond those common core, survival-necessary beliefs, societies can diverge, namely regarding other moral beliefs. But there must be a core common across all societies — or the societies would not exist[27].

In sum, on average, in certain types of situation, there are some moral sentiments common among normal humans, across time and space. (So I’ll call the morality here ‘common morality’. Prescriptions outside that common core I’ll call ‘divergible’[28].)

The situations that prompt those common emotional reactions are, like any situation, an ‘is’. The common emotional reactions involve an ‘ought’. (E.g., it is the case that my baby is hungry; therefore I ought to feed her.) So, in a sense, these reactions fill what would otherwise be an is-ought gap. The near universality of such responses to such situations means that theorists like Hume can plausibly suggest that this is similar to objectivity in science. That is, it is similar to something needed for epistemic justification. For in science too, a common response to the same situation is evidence for objectivity, namely that the response relates to the truth. E.g., a common response when walking near a cliff is to believe that if one walks over the cliff edge, one will fall fast rather than float gently down or up or stay suspended in mid-air. It is commonly believed, at least implicitly, that gravity operates universally. Here every person , car, stone, and so on going over a cliff has been observed to fall. So there is vast, exceptionless evidence for the belief. So it is a true, justifiable belief — knowledge. In sum, the normal sensory perceptions used as evidence in science are similar to what could be called ‘normal emotion-based quasi-perceptions’ in the so-called moral sphere.

Yet this does not mean that the situation regarding morality, though similar, is epistemically (sufficiently) equivalent. It does not mean that common moral beliefs are knowledge, or close to truth. It only means that a moral notion is commonly believed, due to natural selection. It does not mean the is-ought gap is filled in an epistemically justifiable way:-

To fill the gap in an epistemically justifiable way, truth needs to be involved. Firstly, as Hume recognised, an emotion as such cannot be true. An emotion is like an itch or a hair: such things are neither true nor false. They are just there. It is true that they are there, but they themselves are not truths. Only statements, beliefs, can be true. A common emotional reaction, an ‘is’, prompts a common ‘ought’ belief, as in ‘My baby is hungry; therefore I feel sympathy and hence believe I ought to feed her’. Yet, as suggested in Part I, Chapter 1, Section 1, (and confirmed further soon,) an emotion is not evidence for the epistemic justifiability of any thereby-prompted belief. And the degree of commonness or popularity of a belief, as such, does not make it likely to that degree that the belief is true, i.e., epistemically justifiable. Only evidence can show whether a belief is true or close to truth. E.g., it was once commonly believed that the sun goes round the Earth. Later, most people came to know of evidence sufficient to show that this belief was false. Regarding morality, it was once commonly believed that slavery, extreme sexism and non-democratic governments were natural or acceptable. Now, to a major degree, those beliefs are widely believed to be wrong or unacceptable.

However, such beliefs are not part of the common, naturally-selected core discussed above. The main focus of the present discussion is whether the naturalness of this common core provides us with an epistemically authoritative basis for believing a moral theory. (This authoritativeness, along with the non-self-contradictoriness inherent in epistemic justification, implies that this theory would require us to universally act on the core’s prescriptions, not just normally or commonly or when we felt like it,.)

Just because a belief is naturally motivated, i.e., via evolution, this does not make it true. Motivation, or evolution, is one thing. Evidence is quite another. Consider the claim that widespread moral agreement is morality’s as-near-as-possible equivalent to objectivity in science. Widespread agreement in science’s sphere can be epistemically unjustifiable. E.g., we seem to have evolved to have various common illusions and associated delusions. Indeed they seem universal. We all see the moon as bigger when it is near Earth’s horizon than when the moon is above. We all see sticks (apparently) bend when we put part of them in water. Colour is arguably an illusion, widely believed to exist ‘out there’, e.g., really on the skin of a lemon (as opposed to colour being an experience commonly produced inside the normal brain, a naturally-selected experience, like those common emotional reactions). And so on.

In sum, what we have evolved to commonly or universally believe is not necessarily a reliable guide regarding whether the belief is true. We need independent and sufficient evidence. E.g., regarding sticks appearing to bend in water, we can make observations of that (illusory) observation, e.g., by running our hands up and down the stick, confirming that water does not bend it. We can partly submerge a thin glass rod which would break if bent as much as it appears to be bent, and observe it does not break. And so on. It is thereby epistemically justifiable that we can not derive an epistemically justifiable theory from common reactions (emotions or beliefs) just because they are common. (And, as will be discussed further later, there are glaring epistemic problems with various common emotional reactions. E.g., history suggests that many normal humans feel negatively towards persons of a race which superficially looks very different from theirs. This emotion has nothing to do with whether it is justifiable to believe that the other race ought to be discriminated against.)

So, widespread agreement in science’s sphere does not mean that, when there is widespread agreement regarding morality, the moral agreement is sufficiently equivalent to objectivity in science. Rather, moral agreement could be like agreeing that the moon does get bigger near the horizon, that water does bend sticks, and so on. That is, moral agreement could be a common belief that the false is true, that the epistemically unjustifiable is justified. Arguments above suggest that the only evidence regarding morality is that, here too, we have evolved to have delusions. And an emotional reaction prompting us to believe, e.g., that a suffering child is a morally bad situation, is, as Hume realised, objectively an illusion. It is analogous to our illusory perception that colour (as mentally experienced) is ‘out there’, e.g., on the skin of an lemon. Common sentiments might fill the is-ought gap as far as an emotionally-based, moral theory is concerned. But many points above show that this filling is not epistemically justifiable. And, if all moral theories are delusional, then any attempt at such a filling would be to attempt to fill something involving a delusion with an emotionally-based illusion.

A concluding remark here:- Recent points imply that Humean and similar arguments cannot escape all the problems involved with the is-ought issue. If it ‘is’ the case that persons naturally normally have similar feelings or beliefs about something, this does not imply that it is epistemically justifiable that all ought to act on those feelings or beliefs. To believe there is no gap between the ‘is’ and an ‘ought’ here involves a moral belief and an epistemic mistake, and hence a delusion.

(As with the above-discussed problems of problematic circularity, delusions, an insoluble regress and so on, the is-ought problem for morality will often not be mentioned explicitly below, but it will be at least implicit that the moral notions discussed (and all others) have all those problems.)

The discussion so far has failed to find an authoritative natural basis for morality. I’ve argued that any moral belief is a delusion. Yet moral delusions are common for what seems to me to be an understandable, evolutionary reason. Could this reason be an authoritative natural basis for moral belief?. Firstly here, what is the probable reason?:-

All else equal, a society will hold together or survive better if its members unquestioningly believe that its core (and, perhaps less-importantly, its other) moral beliefs are true. So, because a society is needed in order to best enable individuals’ genes to be passed on, natural selection probably favoured individuals having brains which tend to gullibly unquestioningly believe the individual’s society’s morality, i.e., believe the morality is true, i.e., justifiable. It seems likely that a society where most believed that the society’s moral beliefs were merely beliefs, i.e., not able to be justified or proved true, would believe less in preserving that society than if most believed their society’s moral beliefs were true. Similarly, consider parents trying to raise children to believe in their society’s morality, and obey it and, with this, obey the parents. These would-be-authoritative parents would have an easier job if they gullibly firmly believed the morality and if children were naturally gullible, and could hence easily be influenced to believe the morality was true (authoritative), as opposed to the parents saying, “These beliefs we merely have faith in. We don’t know if they are true. There is no evidence that they are true. They are unjustifiable.”

This is the probable social-psychological-biological explanation for the commonness of the delusion, and related gullibility, that is morality. Apart from the fact that gullibility (foolability) is not likely to lead people to the truth or epistemically justifiable, an explanation is not a justification. A true explanation of an event is one thing, but justifying the event is quite another. To explain why a belief exists does not justify the belief[29]. Justification of a belief requires evidence:-

E.g., a scientist can explain why we see sticks apparently bend in water, or why we commonly see a ripe lemon as yellow. But that does not justify a belief that sticks really do bend in water, or that colour is really ‘out there’, in the lemon skin, as opposed to an experience people with normal colour vision have via their brains. Similarly, a true explanation for a fatal car crash could be that the driver had just lost her job, got angry, got drunk and so ran over a child. This true explanation does not justify running over the child: running over the child is not thereby necessarily something that ought to have happened.

An example similar (or equivalent) to the situation with morality:- Persons in some past societies seem to have believed something like, ‘There are gods who make our life as good as they can (or will do so if we worship, pray, sacrifice and so on)’. This is probably because there is an evolutionary advantage in believing that your society is looked over by powerful, caring beings, compared to the uncomforting belief that you are not protected or cared for by powerful parent-type super beings. All else equal, a society which feels confident and secure due to its religious beliefs probably has certain survival advantages over a society lacking such beliefs. So, the human brain seems to have evolved an emotionally-rewarding gullible tendency to be motivated to have faith in some parent-type super being(s) [30], and a god is the most super such being imaginable. If this explanation is true, then, like any true explanation, it does not mean the explained belief or alleged event (i.e., ‘The god Murg exists’,) is objectively justified or real(istic). If it did, then, e.g., all the millions of gods (and goblins, pixies, ogres etc) ever believed in must really exist or have existed. Yet they were or are said to do and be mutually-contradictory things, and to prescribe contradictory absolutely true moralities, which is impossible.

(Regarding this book’s theme of peace — societies’ and individuals’ mutually-contradictory religious and associated moral beliefs have often facilitated conflicts such as war. And, importantly, the common motivation to have faith in an allegedly wise, great, powerful authority can be directed to natural as well as alleged supernatural beings — and some such human beings have led their societies to war. Hitler is one of many such beings. A human can be gullibly attributed about as much charisma as an alleged god, or be seen as god-like or a god in some societies — making conflict with other societies likely.)

In conclusion here:- The probable explanation for why there is a common morality does not give us an epistemically authoritative justification for believing in that morality. Evolutionary or human-nature based explanations are not justifications. There is no plausible argument, no evidence, for why evolution or human nature should be the standard of justification in the so-called moral sphere.

Another possible authoritative basis for morality is the social contract. The notion, ‘social contract’, is related to the one just discussed, but with some differences which might make it truly authoritative. A central difference, discussed in the next chapter, concerns those social contract theories which focus on the human individual’s natural need for a society, rather than on all societies’ need for certain common believable rules:-

(The previous chapter explicitly concerned non-Kantian theories. Some social contract theories are non-Kantian, but Kant’s theory is also somewhat a social contract theory. Kant’s ‘Society of Ends’[31], the ideal society according to his theory, involves what can be called a social contract. (It involves, e.g., each person agreeing to only do what every other person in this ideal world-society could do.) And John Rawls’s theory is very much an explicit social contract theory. So this chapter’s discussion of social contract theories has implications for non-Kantian social contract theories, and for Kant and Rawls.)

Firstly, what is a social contract theory? These theories are at least implicitly and at least partly based on this moral concept: ‘Society ought to exist, and hence have its survival-needs met (because, e.g., the individual’s life will be best in a society)’. In general, social contract theories argue or assume that a society cannot survive without certain types of moral rules, e.g., ‘Don’t murder your society’s members’. So these theories assume that these rules constitute or include common morality. Such theories also tend to argue or assume that a society is better than a so-called ‘condition (or state) of nature’, namely where there is no society — and hence no social contract. Individuals are said to somehow (e.g., hypothetically or tacitly) prefer to have a mutually-accepted contract as the best way to escape the ‘condition of nature’. The contract binds all to those moral rules.

A society consists of individuals co-operating sufficiently to maintain the society, namely via commonly-accepted rules. A condition of nature would lack such co-operation. Apart from agreeing there would be that lack, different theorists have different views concerning what a condition of nature would be like. However, it would seem that without a social contract and hence society, it would be likely there’d be less of such things as effective caring for children and more of such things as murder due to competition. That is, in that there would be no agreement on rules needed for a society, there’d be no or insufficient common morality. Hobbes argued for an extreme view here, concluding famously that here life would be “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short”[32].

It is of course true that (1) if strangers were, e.g., put on an island and never agreed on (socially contracted to have) rules advocating such things as caring for children and not murdering, they could not have a society, and at least nearly all would soon die; and (2) if a society suddenly mostly stopped caring for its children, and suddenly its members increasingly murdered each other, then the society would come apart, shrink in size, and would tend not to pass on its members’ genes.

So here is what seems to some a natural justification for moral rules such as: ‘Care for your children’ and ‘Don’t murder (fellow citizens)’. With this, such moral rules can seem to have a natural authority in that there is a firm basis for the following:- Human nature, to exist and flourish, needs a society. It needs children to be cared for. It needs society to not be destroyed by mass murders. And so on.

In sum, common morality can seem to have a natural authority. But this alleged authority or attempt at justification is relative to the moral concept that humans and their societies ought to exist at all. Something like this is the fundamental concept here, on which social contract theories assume they are firmly based. This is where contract theories in general assume their moral regress justifiably stops. (Points here can be applied to evolution-based moral theories, which assume humans ought to survive and hence ought to do what is survival-helpful/necessary.)

Yet this concept and attempted stopping point have the same problems as other moral concepts, such as freedom, as discussed above. Relative to the standard, ‘Humanity’s existence is worthwhile’, the concept ‘Humans ought to exist’ can seem justified. But, as Chapter I showed, there is a problematic circularity here: ‘Humanity’s existence is worthwhile’ means the same as ‘Human’s ought to exist’. So this gets us nowhere regarding epistemic justifiability. This only says ‘X should be the case because X should be the case’.

And, relative to another standard, e.g., ‘Survival of the maximum number of species’, ‘Survival of the natural (non-human-affected) environment’, or ‘Elimination of the most aggressive, hate-filled, war-making, destructive species’, the survival of humans would seem unjustified. Humans seem to have greatly reduced the number of species, and disaffected the natural environment greatly, and humans certainly are the most aggressive, hate-filled, war-making, destructive species. And relative to concepts such as fairness, freedom, equality and kindness, many societies would be believed to be unjustifiable. E.g., thence, Nazi society should not have survived or even existed.

Further, as the previous chapter implies, there is an epistemic gap between the ‘is’, ‘Human nature, to exist and flourish, needs a society’, or similar, and the ‘ought’, ‘There ought to be society, to help the human individual to best survive and flourish’, or similar.

So, it is not clear that the foundation of social contract theories gives us an unquestionable authority for morality.

In sum, there are different types of social contract theory, but because they share certain basic moral assumptions, e.g., that humans and their societies ought to exist, all the theories ultimately have much the same general epistemic problems as other moral theories.

For the general reasons discussed above, all moral theories fail the test of epistemic justifiability. They are also unjustifiable via any other, moral standard, because ‘justifiable’ means ‘epistemically justifiable’. (Other, specific reasons, concerning specific theories not discussed above, are mentioned below.)

We cannot act intentionally in the so-called moral sphere without a theory. At least implicitly, we practice a theory we believe is justified — via some epistemically unquestionable authority. Yet mere belief is too problematic. We need a theory we can know is epistemically justified. We need a theory as close to truth as possible. This theory would be objective, namely one which is justifiable by all rational persons, namely persons capable of what is, for humans, knowledge — as in scientific knowledge.

The justification needs to be one which all persons necessarily at least implicitly accept. So moral believers, moral skeptics and nihilists must accept it too, at least implicitly.

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Kant’s theory seems to me to be the most helpful theory here. This is because it is not a purely moral theory. It is a moral theory in that it has some moral concepts in its foundation. Yet it also has some epistemic notions included in its foundation. So, Kant’s theory has the potential to be altered and developed into an epistemically justifiable practical theory. (However, this alteration and development results in a theory very unlike Kant’s in major ways. What was a moral theory ceases to be a moral theory. Part II’s deletions from and additions to Kant’s theory renders it unrecognisable as Kant’s theory.)

PART I, CHAPTER 3: SOME ASPECTS OF KANT’S ATTEMPTED SOLUTION TO THOSE PROBLEMS.

Kant argues for the general point that the solution must involve an objective theory, namely, he says, one valid for all rational beings. Rationality is a central concept in Kant’s theory. There are somewhat different views concerning precisely what rationality is. However, the ways in which Kant specifically discusses the concept, ‘rationality’, in his work as a whole, imply that he can be plausibly interpreted to use the concept to mean ‘epistemic rationality’. This is the method we use to arrive at or get close to truth. (Kant suggests we can use rationality (i) to discover truths concerning the most effective means to achieve our possible ends; and (ii) to discover truths about what ends are justifiable[33].) Rationality is the cognitive method; knowledge (truth) is the cognitive content thereby discovered, provided that rationality can discover sufficient evidence. (Being rational involves using all the available evidence regarding the issue being investigated. Sometimes sufficient evidence is not available.)

In sum, Kant’s solution can be interpreted as an explicit attempt at an epistemically justifiable practical theory.

(Those comments are simplifications, but are adequate for present, introductory purposes. More on those matters later.)

Kant’s arguments for the necessity and justifiability of an objective practical theory involve demonstrating that all alternatives to it are irrational or incoherent. This means they are epistemically unjustifiable. Firstly then, a representative discussion of that negative demonstration. His arguments here, which I think tend to be correct, include useful additions to the above criticisms of moral theories. (I have often expressed or interpreted his arguments here, and added to them, in ways which fit with the rest of the book.):-

PART I, CHAPTER 3, Section 1: Representative Negative Aspects Of Kant’s Attempted Solution.

Kant pointed out that if all moral theories are non-objective, then any theory is as good as any other: no theory could epistemically justifiably state ‘Act X is objectively or truly the right thing to do’. This lack of justifiability would indirectly allow any act. It would give us no firm ground from which we could justifiably say, e.g., ‘No-one ought to torture children for fun’.

There are various types of non-objective moral theories, classifiable in various ways. Here I’ll classify them into ‘individually-subjective’ and ‘intersubjective’ theories. Kant’s attempted solution involves demolishing both types. The following criticisms of them are based directly or indirectly on Kant’s ideas:-

Individually-subjective theories argue something like the following:- There is no evidence proving that any moral theory is objective, i.e., valid for all persons. There is no publicly observable evidence here. There is only self-observable evidence that oneself, as an individual, has subjective feelings or beliefs about what ought to be done in the so-called moral sphere; and there is evidence that another individual can have different feelings or beliefs here. So individual subjectivity is all there is to morality. Therefore, oneself ought to be guided only by one’s own feelings or beliefs.

(Such a theory can also be called ‘individual moral relativism’: each individual’s morality is believed to be true, but true only for that individual, namely true relative only to that individual’s subjective feelings or beliefs (as opposed to there being objectivity, i.e., one theory, true for all individuals). This relativity to non-epistemic standards means such theories have the epistemic problems discussed above.)

An intersubjective morality is group-based rather than individual-based. It is a morality people widely agree on, at least in some group: many people’s subjective feelings are the same here, regarding certain issues. (The common morality discussed above, and the common and social-contract assumption that society ought to exist, are intersubjective moral beliefs. Hume’s moral theory involves intersubjectivity.)

Kant argued that if individual subjectivity or relativism was the practised morality, this would involve many contradictions within and among persons. An individual may feel like helping others one day, but feel unhelpful the next day. And different individuals will differ concerning, e.g, whether to sexually exploit children. If contradictory things are all justifiable relative to feelings or beliefs which differ among and within individuals, the situation would be confusing and absurd. It would be, Kant suggests, irrational. Kant implies that this morality would be epistemically unjustifiable. A morality close to the truth would not be so changeable, so self-contradictory. In no other area, e.g., science, are contradictions rational, i.e., epistemically justifiable. The truth in science involves non-contradiction or universal applicability regarding the issue in question. E.g., gravity does not contradictorily apply one day but not the next[34], or contradictorily make some persons who step off cliffs fall, while others rise, and others stay suspended in mid-air. This non-contradictoriness and associated universal applicability must apply regarding a true morality too, argues Kant. ‘Non-contradiction’ and ‘Universal applicability of laws (truths), as in science’ are his epistemic notions. They are notions inherently used by all rational beings, Kant says. (More on this later.)

Kant argues that we need a theory which all rational beings would agree with, namely for rational, epistemic reasons. Regarding intersubjectively accepted morality, Kant argues that even if all did by chance agree on one theory, the agreement is unlikely to last. This is because the agreement would not be via epistemic rationality, via evidence known to confirm the theory. The agreement here would be via chance, namely via all persons’ beliefs and/or feelings just happening to coincide. So agreement on the theory would be non-objective. But, eventually, at least some persons, because they are capable of rationality, i.e., because they sometimes seek objectivity, would reject the theory. Or, if this did not happen, the emotions that at least some of the chance agreement would have been based on would change within and/or among at least some individuals. Suppose all agree to be always helpful to strangers, because by chance all feel like it one day. Soon some would feel unhelpful sometimes. So we’d end up with a situation similar to that with individual subjectivity, involving contradictions.

Suppose there is total intersubjective agreement, e.g., that children ought not to be tortured for fun, and that this is due to universal genetic factors, i.e., not due to chance events like those just discussed. Here too, via other types of chance events, eventually some individuals will disagree — due to being born without the common gene here, via chance mutation, or due to accidental change in their brain. They may have a psychopathic gene or have the brain’s sympathy module destroyed, predisposing them to be torturers. Again we’d have the problems, involving contradictions, which all non-objective theories have.

A defender of intersubjective or common morality could say there is an intersubjective or common morality almost world-wide — so this minimises contradictions among persons here. That is, people normally agree here; and there is only a minority of psychopaths, long-term criminals and so on. This is true. Perhaps this natural agreement is as close to an objective morality that we can get: to ask anything more might be to ask the impossible or impracticable, and a morality must inherently be practicable.

However, that morality has an ingroup focus, not a world-wide or universal focus. That is, the common morality seems to exist to help pass on only the genes of a small group, not of strangers or all humanity. And this often means contradictions or conflict among groups. E.g., a common prescription is, ‘Don’t murder’, but the individual tends to believe that this applies only to members of that individual’s society or ingroup. It is also common to believe that murdering members of other societies is acceptable, or even morally noble[35], or not as bad as murdering one’s fellow citizens.

Humans evolved in small societies, so some such group is the strongest natural focus of an evolutionarily selected morality. As Hume pointed out, normal humans tend to feel most sympathy for those closest to them, namely for those they see most often and live with or near as family and friends. Humans subjectively tend to feel more like helping and caring for their close-circle rather than for strangers or distant foreigners, and rather than for humanity as a whole. Our evolutionarily close relatives, e.g., wolves and chimps, often live in similar ingroups, for similar evolutionary reasons. (This common ingroup (wolfpack) morality has much to do with why the world consists of significantly separate, rival nations, classes, religions, races and so on, rather than just one mutually-caring world society.)

That ingroup focus has evolutionary advantages in certain situations. E.g., group G1’s genes are more likely to be passed on if a group, G2, in real or potential competition with G1 regarding resources needed for passing on genes, is weakened or eliminated. E.g., suppose G1 and G2 are on an island where food becomes insufficient for both groups to survive; G1’s genes are more likely to be passed on, all else equal, if G1 kills G2. (Even moreso, perhaps, if G1 eats G2.) Such advantages help explain why the ingroup moral focus commonly exists. (But an explanation does not justify.)

Common, intersubjective morality tends to be groupist — involving caring for an ingroup most, which means that outgroups can suffer. So even common, intersubjective morality involves contradictions and great interpersonal conflict. The way a groupist person treats ingroup members is often the opposite of how the person treats outgroup members. Here a too-limited, epistemically problematic sense of the notion, ‘universally applicable’, applies, namely a sense allowing contradictions among and/or within the entities to which the notion applies. It is not the overall, non-contradictory sense, as in scientific theories being universally applicable. E.g., gravity affects (treats) all persons the same way. This means this morality is far from objectivity as in science. As with gravity applying universally, e.g., by not letting anyone float away from Earth, a morality as close to objectivity as possible would seem to need to apply in the same way to all persons, not favour some over others merely due to them being in a different group. With this, the reasons why different groups exist and differ as they do include persons being born a different colour or in a different place. Such factors are arbitrary rather than an objective or epistemically justifiable basis for ingroup favouritism. So here too this groupist morality is too far from objectivity — apart from the fact that there is no evidence for it being objective or close to the truth.

Further, different societies or groups sharing that common morality, and because of it, tend to have conflicting divergible moralities, beyond the common groupist core. It is at least partly because of the ingroup nature of the common, core morality that a group favours its non-core, divergible morality over that of other groups. Thence, groupism can increase farther, meaning more contradictions. (Hence groupism can take forms such as extreme racism, class-war and militaristic nationalism, with corresponding highly diverging groupist moral theories — making peace unlikely.) So a claim that intersubjective, common morality is close to objectivity is perhaps even more implausible when considered in the context of a group or society’s main thereto-related whole morality.

Concluding remarks so far:- Kant’s criticisms of non-objective theories seem sound to me. Kant also makes criticisms, like some of those in Part I, Chapter 1, Section 3 concerning Hume’s intersubjective theory, criticisms applicable to all intersubjective theories. In sum, Kant shows that intersubjective theories are not epistemically justifiable. Kant’s arguments here, and others discussed previously, show that we need an objective, i.e., epistemically authoritative, theory. Otherwise, e.g., there will be contradictions and other (psychological, military etc) conflicts within and/or among persons. Permanent peace will be impossible.

Finally here, even if all did agree permanently on one all-encompassing moral theory, i.e., with no divergence, without epistemic evidence for the theory, i.e., intersubjectively, this is like virtually all agreeing centuries ago that the sun goes round Earth. Similarly, until Einstein, all people do seem to have at least implicitly agreed on the false belief that time and space are independent of each other. Again, agreement as such has nothing to do with whether the agreed-on belief is true. And, as suggested above, permanent total agreement is extremely unlikely regarding a moral belief. At least some persons will realise it is a delusion or problematic. Even if the agreed-on theory involved no groupism, and was truly universally applicable, (which is something like what one interpretation of Hume suggests is justified,) it would still have a non-epistemic foundation, and hence not be epistemically justifiable. (More on this soon.)

A further epistemic problem regarding theories which claim that the non-objective ought to guide our actions is that these theories assume they are objective. An individually-subjectivist theory assumes that it is true or objective, i.e., for all persons, that they ought to be guided morally by their differing individual subjective feelings or beliefs. (Here that too-limited sense of ‘universally applicable’ applies.) It is believed to be universally true, i.e., objective, that moral truth is relative to each individual’s subjective feelings or beliefs. Similarly, an intersubjective theory assumes it is true or objective that all our actions ought to conform, e.g., to the common morality believed by most persons.

So, such theories assume they are epistemically justifiable relative to a concept such as individual or common moral subjectivity. They believe it is objective that the subjective should guide us. An equivalent in science would be, e.g., for gravity to apply when an individual felt it would be good for gravity to apply, but not, e.g., if this individual accidentally let go of a much-loved crystal bowl which would break if gravity applied. Or, gravity would apply when an individual or group, for subjective reasons, believed it would; and not apply when they believed it would not. The truth regarding scientific laws would vary relative to persons’ feelings or beliefs. This is plainly absurd.

This, and other arguments above, suggest it is epistemically unjustifiable to assume that variable relative truths are the case concerning morality. And, in a sense, that assumption suggests that the subjective is objective in that it is (allegedly) objectively what ought to guide us. There seems to be a contradiction here: in a way, such theories assume they are both objective and non-objective. This is nonsense.

Regarding non-objective theories in general:- Where the basis of morality is non-objective, this means persons can contradict themselves. Here, from an overall perspective, namely a viewpoint involving considering what a person does or feels or believes at different times, a person states that whatever morality the person has is wrong. Non-objectivism allows, e.g., one’s emotions to change, making one feel and hence believe the opposite of what one did before. One can believe both X (e.g., ‘Be helpful’) and not-X (here, ‘Do not be helpful’). When one believes X, one also believes that not-X is wrong; and vice versa. The change, the vice versa, means a person has two or more conflicting non-objective theories. So, in a sense, persons believes that their non-objective theories are both right and wrong. Or, one cannot ever have the overall belief that one will do a single specific act which is right, because one’s subjectivity concerning that act can change. So, from that overall perspective, in a sense one always believes that one is wrong. And, as in objective fields such as science, it is only an overall perspective which leads one towards knowledge. An overall, rational perspective considers all the available evidence. A limited perspective does not, and hence misleads us. (E.g., when persons only looked at the sun (apparently) going from East to West round where they lived, they believed the Earth stayed still and the sun went round Earth.)

So, an overall viewpoint, investigating non-objective prescriptions among and within all believers over the long-term, will see that believers can be self-contradictory regarding their non-objective moral theories. Justified belief, in an objective theory, as in science, cannot involve self-contradiction. Here one will always believe the same thing, e.g., that gravity applies always and everywhere on Earth, in the same way for all persons..

In sum, one’s subjectivity can change, involving self-contradiction; this cannot happen with the objective.

In any area, if one is self-contradictory, one is irrational and at least implicitly states that oneself is wrong. E.g., in maths, if one believes or one’s theory allows one to believe that 1+2 is both 3 and not-3 (e.g., 7 or a dog), one is clearly irrational, i.e., wrong. The same applies regarding a moral theory allowing an individual to believe contradictory things are justified (e.g., due to mood changes). Similarly for intersubjective theories. (E.g., it is conceivable that the subjectively-based values common among normal humans could change over time[36].) Hence, in a real sense, if non-objectivism is right, it is wrong. (With this, non-objective or subjective theories even allow it to be true that they are untrue, namely if it is subjectively believed that they are untrue[37].) No epistemically astute or rational person could think such a theory is justifiable.

In sum, Kant’s and related arguments show that non-objective theories are too problematic. (I’m arguing that all moral theories are non-objective, and I’ve previously implied and will later further argue that this includes Kant’s.)

Kant also criticised moral theories which claim to be objective but which are not. Here, e.g., he made general criticisms of theories claiming explicitly that it is objective that an emotion ought to guide us. The basic emotion here, he argues, is (a desire for) happiness (or at least a reduction of unhappiness). Some argue this is the objective basis of human behaviour or morality because, they believe, it does universally directly or indirectly motivate us to do what we do, and/or because, they believe, it ought to. Kant believes happiness is basic among all that can influence us to disobey what he says is the objective morality. (Even if happiness is not the single basic moral emotion, Kant’s criticisms here can be applied to any other emotion involved — except, he plausibly argues, one unique emotion. This is the motivation to be rational. It is discussed later.)

His criticisms here are similar to those recently discussed. E.g., Kant points out that what makes one person happy one day might not the next. Today Frank may feel happy about helping Sally; tomorrow he might feel happier when not being helpful, because he feels he’d be happier being lazy. Today he may feel happy being honest and fair to a customer; tomorrow he may feel happy lying, so as to profit unfairly from a customer. And there are great differences regarding what normally makes one person happy compared to what normally makes some other person happy. Fred may normally love classical music; Julie may normally hate it. Someone may be happiest sexually when raping children; the thought of raping children may make another person unhappy. And so on.

Again, the situation involves contradictions and hence absurdities. Any such theory is epistemically too problematic.

A defender of common or intersubjective morality, or of a theory claiming that happiness objectively should always be our aim, could argue that happiness is linked to common or intersubjective morality, and is thereby justifiably the aim of the only morality as close to objectivity as possible. This defender could point out that the normal human brain has naturally evolved a tendency to experience happiness when the brain knows it has followed its naturally evolved common morality’s promptings. (E.g., normal parents feel happy when they see their babies smile; this naturally motivates normal parents to do things to make their child smile, e.g., feed it when hungry, instead of letting it starve or torture it.) Evolution has meant that brains which reward the motivations which are most likely to mean passing on of the gene(s) involved, will be naturally selected moreso than if no reward was given. And the reward the brain gives itself is happiness, via its pleasure centre. In sum, happiness (or at least a reduction of unhappiness) is a common associate of common morality. Hence happiness could be seen as the closest we can get to a universal moral aim or end. (Utilitarianism and one interpretation of Hume see happiness thus.)

Arguments above, in this chapter and previously, apply or can be adapted to apply to that defence. Thence, it too fails the epistemic test, the test for objectivity, for non-contradictoriness and so on.

Further, if it is objectively the case that a certain action ought to be done, then it is objectively irrelevant whether doing it will make us happy. With this, happiness is again shown to be epistemically irrelevant. Some parallel examples from science:- It is objectively the case that Earth goes round the sun, but it seemed to make many persons happy or happier to believe the opposite, along with believing that Earth was extremely unlike other astronomical bodies. This was believed because, e.g., that unobjective belief supported their belief that a god exists who cared most for humans and made humans special in the universe, i.e., central, and hence situated them on a special place, geographically central in the universe. But Earth is a tiny planet among billions, and not central or composed of special stuff. It is similar stuff to the moon and many other planets. What makes most people happy can contradict the truth, so happiness is not epistemically justifiable.

Similarly, suppose it is objective that Frank is going bankrupt, and has a certain disease, and can do nothing to stop this. If Frank is unhappy about this, and his business competitor is happy, their and any feelings are irrelevant regarding what is objectively the case concerning Frank’s finances and health.

Finally here, arguments above show that even if all of us were made happy by precisely the same acts, this would not mean the acts are objectively right, or that a theory advocating the acts is close to truth.

In conclusion so far:- Kant’s arguments here support those in previous chapters. He too concludes that we need an objective, epistemically authoritative theory. He also implicitly or unintentionally concludes that theories with moral concepts in their foundation, which includes his theory, are epistemically too problematic.

That conclusion concerns negative arguments. It’s time to consider Kant’s positive arguments (along with some related negative arguments):-

PART I, CHAPTER 3, Section 2: Positive, Epistemic Aspects Of Kant’s Attempted Solution.

(This chapter begins my discussion of Kant’s theory as such, as opposed to his criticisms of other theories. It is important to make it clear that it is “my discussion” — because at least some important parts of Kant’s theory are interpreted in different ways by different people. As will be explained further soon, for that reason the book has an optional Appendix, expanding on the defence of the interpretation I use, if you are interested. However, all this book primarily tries to do regarding Kant is to show that one plausible interpretation of Kant can be used, along with various deletions and additions, as a basis for developing an epistemically justifiable practical theory.)

Kant tried to solve the problems of morality by trying to develop an objective theory, an epistemically justifiable theory. This theory, he believed, was achievable via including two interrelated epistemic concepts in its foundation. These are the form of objective laws, as in science, and the fundamental formal principle of rationality, namely non-contradiction:-

The fundamental basis of rationality, or reason, Kant says, is non-contradiction. He wants a moral theory enabling those who hold the theory to never contradict themselves or each other or the truth. He wants agreement among all rational persons due to them being rational — via them seeing that only certain acts can avoid contradictions. A contradiction or irrationality involves being objectively wrong, and, Kant argues, we should not do what is wrong according to rationality. Something like the following argument supports Kant here:-

In arithmetic, non-contradiction underpins all true sums. 1+2 is 3 because 1+2 is 1+1+1, and 3 is also 1+1+1. ‘1+1+1’ is the same as ‘1+1+1’, so there cannot be a contradiction here. But ‘1+1+1’ does contradict ‘1+1+1+1’, so ‘1+2=4’ is false; it is wrong. In science, there needs to be non-contradiction within and among persons with properly working relevant senses, regarding what they sense. Otherwise the hypothesis they are investigating is not confirmed. E.g., for it to be true that there are elves in some garden, or that the world is spherical, all rational persons need to be able to reliably sense the elves or sphericity.

An objective morality, says Kant, is one where the arguments for its prescriptive conclusions avoid contradictions, and the practising of those conclusions involve non-contradiction within and among persons. Kant says this makes the morality objective in that it is valid, i.e., justifiable, for all rational beings — because rational justification is based on non-contradiction, as in 1+2=3. In other words, non-contradiction is the fundamental principle of reason. That is, non-contradiction is the fundamental law of reason. Reason, via that fundamental law, helps us arrive at other laws, e.g., in science. With this, reason is fundamental regarding objectivity. Kant says that reason, practical reason, can help us discover the objective morality, namely moral laws.

Those arguments regarding non-contradiction can be applied to the problems of a moral vacuum and moral disbelief:-

Skeptics and nihilists regarding morality, including Kantian morality, would not be skeptics or nihilists without using and hence at least implicitly accepting Kant’s fundamental moral principle, non-contradiction. Something like the following argument[38] can support Kant here:-

Fundamentally, formally, we cannot think without thinking of some thing, T. And we cannot think of T without accepting that T is T, rather than not-T, and that T is not both T and not-T. So, e.g., to think of denying Kant’s ideas regarding non-contradiction, one must think that one’s denial is a denial, rather than, e.g., an elephant or a musical note or an acceptance of Kant’s ideas, and that one’s denial is not both a denial and not a denial. So the denier of the fundamental necessity of non-contradiction must use and hence accept that fundamental necessity. Otherwise their denials would not be denials. In other words, at the fundamental level of anyone’s thinking, Kant’s fundamental principle of non-contradiction is undeniable, a law.

Beyond the fundamental level, one can explicitly deny it, by saying “I deny Kant’s fundamental principle.”. But one can only do this by using and hence implicitly accepting the principle at one’s fundamental level of thought: one accepts it as one’s foundation. So in denying it beyond and because of that fundamental level, the deniers contradict themselves. They implicitly state they are wrong to deny Kant’s fundamental principle of non-contradiction. Hence non-contradiction would inherently be involved in the foundation (fundamental principle(s)) of any objective or epistemically justifiable practical theory.

Kant suggests that, if a moral theory explicitly maintained its fundamental acceptance of non-contradiction, only then would the theory be objectively right — via not contradicting itself. However, moral theories tend to explicitly state they are based on some moral, non-epistemic principle, e.g., happiness. So Kant suggests that all other moral theories except his are self-contradictory: they both deny his principle (by basing themselves on another, moral principle) and fundamentally accept it. So, Kant suggests that, except for his theory, every moral theory implicitly states that it is wrong and that the principle on which Kant’s theory is based is correct or undeniable. If so, other moral theories are rationally deniable, but Kant’s is not. Kant’s theory applies the principle in the so-called moral sphere, and, he claims, because it is the only choice which does not involve contradiction or contradictability, and is valid (undeniable) and fundamental for all of us, it is hence objectively right.

In sum, Kant suggests that here alone can we be objectively right in the morally-equivalent way to our being right when we think, e.g., that 1+2 is 3, or that gravity applies universally.

Plausibly, here Kant has some evidence for his theory: so far it seems epistemically justifiable. By including the epistemic concept of non-contradiction explicitly in his theory, rather than only a purely moral concept, Kant may have here escaped the problems which render all purely moral theories epistemically unjustifiable. More on this later, after the context for doing so has been further developed. The next step in developing it involves discussing the other, related epistemic concept Kant explicitly includes in the basis of his theory, namely the form of epistemically justifiable laws, as in science:-

Kant wants moral laws — morality’s equivalent to objective, scientific laws. (For Kant, ‘moral law’ does not mean morality’s equivalent to laws enacted by (often groupist) governments. Scientific laws are simply true, regardless of whether human institutions believe them or legislate for or against them. The legend of King Canute, who unsuccessfully commanded the tide to not rise, demonstrates this. Moral laws, suggests Kant, are morality’s equivalent to science’s law of gravity, which causes rising tides.) In the scientific sphere, non-contradiction among and within persons’ senses is an (aspect of the) appropriate standard used to test whether a principle is objective, a law. In the so-called moral sphere, non-contradiction within the principle(s) underlying one’s chosen actions, and among persons’ chosen actions, is the appropriate standard, says Kant. This means an act should be universally applicable. And he does not mean universally applicable in the too-limited sense criticised recently. That is, non-contradiction is inextricable from universal applicability, namely the form of all (objective) laws:-

The form of all laws, says Kant, is universal applicability. A scientific law is objective, which means it applies universally. E.g., there is not one place where gravity means objects attract each other and another place where the opposite occurs[39], all else equal. Gravity does not force some persons to float away from Earth, or do so in some places on Earth, contradicting this by holding other persons down, or down only in other places on Earth. The same applies for all scientific laws. Suppose we abstract from the specific contents of scientific laws. Scientific laws concern chemicals, volume, electricity, friction, optics, acceleration and so on. The laws’ specific contents are, respectively, chemicals, volumes, electrical events, and so on. After abstracting here, what is left? — the general nature or form of all laws. We see that the one thing all laws have in common is that they apply universally. That is, regardless of their specific content, the form or general (non-specific) nature of all laws is universal applicability. Laws apply in every relevantly similar situation. E.g., a scientific law concerning gases would apply in every situation where there is a gas All such situations are ‘relevantly similar’ in that the relevant issue here is, ‘Is there a gas?’, and each gas is similar to every other gas in some basic ways, e.g., via all involving a situation where atoms or molecules are in a non-liquid, non-solid, non-plasma state, and, all else equal, spread throughout anything containing the gas. So, wherever there is such a relevantly similar situation, Boyle’s law, interrelating the pressure, volume and temperature of contained gases, is relevant to all such similar situations. (Factors such as the colour of something containing a gas, e.g., a gas cylinder, are irrelevant here, all else equal.)

Kant argued that, moral laws, to be laws, to be objective, must also be universally applicable, as with a law of nature, namely a scientific law. So, a moral law must be applicable in every relevantly similar situation. E.g., a moral law stating ‘Never lie’ is obviously applicable in every situation where someone could lie. Specific lies, like specific gases, differ from each other, e.g., lies concerning theft differ from lies concerning flattery. But all lies are similar in that they are intentionally untrue. Here a law concerning lying would be relevant to each such similar situation, and vice versa. (Whether, e.g., someone lying about their school grades has dandruff is irrelevant here, all else equal.)

To be applicable in every relevantly similar situation, a moral law must be something all could do in every relevantly similar situation. All might not choose to do it, because that is the nature of the how-should-one-live sphere: here we can choose. Gases, chemicals, rocks and so on, namely the contents of scientific laws, cannot choose. But a lawful moral act, namely the content of a moral law, is one which, if all chose to do it, they all could put it into practice. It would be universally applicable, but not necessarily universally applied, or done. For Kant, it should always be done, but at least some persons might sometimes choose not to.

Some interpret Kant as saying that universal applicability regarding moral laws only applies to ‘all persons’, not to all persons and ‘all relevantly similar situations’. If ‘all persons’ is all that matters here, then each person needs to be able to apply the law, but need not do so in all relevantly similar situations, only some. This seems incoherent. Kant seems to me to make it clear that all laws, as in laws of nature, apply to all relevantly similar situations. This means that a moral law is applicable to every such situation. E.g., if a moral law says we should not lie, then this applies to every situation where any person could lie.

If all could always do X, there could be no contradictions among morally lawful actions here. Kant says we should not do something only some could do, meaning that others could not. If only some could do an act, X, others must be not able to do X, and can only do not-X. (E.g., only some can murder and stay alive; others, their victims, are not able to do this; they can only stay dead.) Because X and not-X contradict, X is not valid or practicable by all rational beings, says Kant. That is, this X cannot apply (be done) universally. Hence X is not lawful: it does not conform to the form or general nature of all laws. Here we see that Kant is indeed basing his theory on the interrelated epistemic concepts — the form of objective laws as in science, and non-contradiction.

Another example:- We cannot all practice the rule ‘Get richer at the expense of others’. This rule could not be practised by all because, to do so, all would have to get rich by making others poorer — and if some are getting poorer they cannot be getting richer. To universally practise that rule, all would have to both get richer and poorer, to get both more money and less. This is impossible. It involves a contradiction. So, Kant suggests, because it is not universalisable, it is not a moral law. Hence, he suggests, its opposite, ‘Do not get richer at the expense of others’, which is universalisable, is a moral law[40].

With this, it involves making an exception of oneself, i.e., selfishness, via oneself profiting at the expense of others. And we cannot universally make an exception of everyone. Hence, according to Kant, that and any selfish rule or act is objectively wrong. Because following that rule is not an act practicable by all rational beings, it is not an act valid for all rational beings. Rational beings as such would not try to practise it, because there would be contradictions, i.e., irrationality, namely something rational beings as such inherently do not practise. (Similarly, or equivalently, a computer, inherently capable of doing only correct maths, inherently cannot add 1 and 2 to get both 3 and 7.)

In sum, selfishness is not an act valid for all rational beings. This can be interpreted as Kant claiming that selfishness is not epistemically justifiable.

Similarly, lying cannot be universalised. A moral law, as with a scientific law, applies universally through time — in every relevantly similar situation. So, Kant thinks, if the moral law here allowed lying, and you chose to practise this law, you’d have to always lie to yourself. As he says, this is impossible. How could you? A lie is an intended untruth, so you’d know you were intending to tell yourself an untruth. To tell an untruth intentionally you must know the truth. And a lie is meant and able to mislead. You could not mislead yourself here. In sum, your intended lie would not be an untruth, a lie, for you.

Similarly, if one states “My rule is to always lie”, this could not be one’s rule because that statement would also be a lie. The situation is inconceivable.

And you’d have to always lie to all others. But then they’d soon expect you to lie. So how could we really, i.e., successfully, always lie? To lie successfully, the liar needs to be expected to be not lying.

To lie universally would involve contradictions, e.g., an (attempted) lie would not be a (successful or real) lie. A lie would have to be both a lie and not a lie. This would contradict the laws of reason, and hence be objectively wrong, just like ‘1+2 is both 3 and not-3’ is a contradiction, and hence objectively wrong or unlawful. It is inconceivable for something to be both what it is and not what it is.

Because lying universally is inconceivable, there can be no law advocating lying, says Kant. We might not like to always tell the truth — but because ‘Always lie’ is non-universalisable and inconceivable, he says it is prohibited to lie anytime. So, Kant insists, the opposite of ‘Always lie’, ‘Never lie’, is a moral law. (Problems with such arguments are discussed later.)

‘Never lie’ and ‘Do not get rich at the expense of others’ are two of many specific (alleged) laws implied by what Kant says is the one, most general, ultimate or fundamental moral law. Kant’s theory’s basis, involving non-contradiction, means there can only be one fundamental or ultimate principle in morality. (This principle can be a unity consisting of inextricable, mutually-supportive, non-conflicting concepts, as in the non-contradiction which goes with universal applicability of laws.) If there is more than one principle, they can contradict — and an objective or reason-based morality inherently cannot involve contradictions. The general point here seems epistemically correct, as suggested above. We cannot have two or more mutually-contradictory epistemically justifiable notions, e.g., as in ‘1+2’ being 3, and ‘1+2’ being 7; or both a scientific theory saying ‘Only X occurs in situation S’ being objective and a scientific theory which says ‘Only not-X occurs in S’ being objective — or both a moral theory saying ‘Only X should occur in S’ being objective and a moral theory saying ‘Only not-X should occur in S’ being objective. In sum, logically, there can only be one most general moral law, under which all specific laws come (that is, if there is such a law).

Kant concluded that there is such a principle or law, and it is: ‘Act only on a maxim you can at the same time will[41] to be a universal law’. (Only do what all could always do.) (A maxim is the most general rule in some area[42]. E.g., ‘Never lie’ and ‘Always lie’ are maxims covering the area, ‘All situations where a lie is possible’. The maxim here covers all the specific types of lies we might tell.) That most general law he called the most general categorical imperative, i.e., absolute command. It is, says Kant, our most general duty. Below it will often be abbreviated to ‘UCI’: the universalisability version of the most general categorical imperative. (He proposes what he thinks are other, equivalent versions of the most general categorical imperative. Some of these are discussed later.)

Concluding recent points:- Kant’s UCI involves the related epistemic concepts of non-contradiction and the form of epistemically justifiable laws, namely universal applicability. Hence, the UCI is an attempt at an epistemic principle applicable in the so-called moral sphere. Science’s laws, and the principle of non-contradiction, are epistemically justifiable; so a morality based on the form of science’s laws and non-contradiction seems to have something to do with being epistemically justifiable.

That is, the aspects of Kant’s theory discussed so far can seem, on first view, to be on the right track regarding epistemic justifiability. However, next I’ll argue that he goes off the right track, or not far enough along it. The ‘so far’ and ‘on first view’ are important here: those aspects, as they stand, and many other aspects of his theory, are epistemically too limited or problematic:-

PART I, CHAPTER 4: SOME PROBLEMS WITH THOSE EPISTEMIC ASPECTS OF KANT’S ATTEMPTED SOLUTION.

(Again, points made here tend to have been made by other writers, such as those mentioned in the Introduction. Before criticising Kant, I should make it clear that I have immense respect and admiration for him, and have learnt a great deal from studying him. This includes me coming to think that, of all moral theories, his has the most potential to be developed into an epistemically justifiable practical theory. This potential and development are discussed soon.)

(It is also important to note that, because Kant’s theory is complex and highly sophisticated, this book’s critical discussion of it is cumulative. Some points at the beginning of the discussion are hence perhaps too simplified, and need to be supplemented by points made later, and by Kant’s defences of and additions to parts of his theory criticised at the beginning of the discussion:-)

A major problem is that the UCI’s formal nature means it has contradictory practical implications: it can imply (alleged) laws which contradict each other. Kant himself said that contradictions would not exist in a system of real laws[43], or in a rational system or theory. That is, contradictions could not exist in a non-contradictory system, or be implied by a non-self-contradictory theory. So, according to his own fundamental principle of non-contradiction, his theory is a failure:-

Before developing points in the previous paragraph, a qualification concerning them and some other criticisms below:-

Kant is often an obscure writer, a problem compounded due to difficulties in understanding or translating his centuries-old complex German. He sometimes seems to say things which contradict other things he says. Or, perhaps at least sometimes, he is translated questionably, so as to give that impression. So even among the ablest scholars who have made studying and/or translating Kant their life’s work, there is often disagreement concerning what Kant meant. The interpretation I use is not the only one.

However, this does not matter in that the theory advocated in Part II of this book does not rely on Kant’s theory, or on any interpretation of it. The book’s advocated theory was originally developed independently of Kant. Kant is included because I wish to show that one plausible interpretation of his theory, a highly critical interpretation, much of which is widely agreed on, still leaves Kant’s theory with more potential than any other moral theory to be developed into an epistemically justifiable theory. This positive discussion of his theory is also included to help balance the book’s otherwise negative criticisms and dismissals of moral theories.

Some reasons for the interpretation of Kant used below (and above) are given along with the interpretation. (Some have been given above.) Further reasons are in the optional Appendix. (This can be ignored by readers not interested in those issues, which are sometimes complex. Again, those issues are not relevant regarding the justifiability of the theory advocated in Part II.)

My interpretation of Kant greatly overlaps all other plausible interpretations. The discussion below and the Appendix suggest that any other plausible interpretation still involves enough of the problems discussed in this and all previous chapters to render the other interpretation too epistemically problematic. The interpretation I use merely implies that Kant is somewhat more problematic than some other plausible interpretations suggest. Either way his theory is too problematic. Chapters 1 and 2 above already indirectly show this.

Having made that qualification concerning the interpretation of Kant used below (and above), we return to the discussion of some problems with the epistemic aspects of Kant’s theory:-

The UCI, ‘Act only on a maxim you can at the same time will to be a universal law’, stresses universalisability as crucial regarding making a maxim a moral law. But universalisability as such allows any of many contradictory maxims to be (alleged) moral laws[44]. This means that Kant’s theory, as outlined so far, licenses contradictions. (However, later I’ll discuss his suggested solution to this problem.)

One such contradiction relates to a recently-discussed problem with social contract theories, because a major aspect of Kant’s. theory is a (Society of Ends) social contract. This problem is that these theories assume humans should exist, and that human society should exist. Yet suicide is something all able persons could do. Suicide is universalisable. So, according to the UCI (though not to Kant’s explicit morality as a whole), ‘Suicide’ is a moral law. This contradicts Kant’s, Rawls’s, and all other social contract theories’ fundamental assumption that humans and society should exist. For this reason alone, Kant’s theory seems self-defeating. (Kant attempts to solve this problem regarding suicide. This is discussed later. But I argue that he fails.)

Extinction of many species has occurred. In a sense, extinction is a law of nature in that extinctions have occurred and played an important role in evolution, itself a law of nature. Kant said that an equivalent to the UCI is ‘Act only on a maxim you can will (coherently imagine) to be a law of nature’. The extinction of humanity could occur too. We can conceive it as a real event, i.e., coherently imagine it. It could occur as part of an evolutionary, natural lawful process. There is no law of nature stating that humans and human society ought to exist. Instead, the overall and hence most universally applicable law here is that all species can come and go, and that many do, and that this could include humans. After all, humans did not exist throughout most of nature’s history.

Also, humans have caused the extinction of many species, e.g., the Dodo. So, the death of every member of a species is something which humans could universally try to achieve. We could universally try hard enough to cause our own species’ extinction. Some groups in other species seem to suicide, or try to do what is likely to kill all the group, e.g., as in whales beaching themselves or, reportedly, when the leader of some group of certain types of animals, e.g., sheep, steps off a cliff, the rest of the herd follows[45]. Such things happen in nature. So it is conceivable that a whole species could do this, as a natural process, and hence, in some sense, via a natural law. Kant suggests universal suicide is inconceivable[46], but we can conceive of it. Because we can coherently imagine suicide being committed universally, we should ‘act only on it’, suggests Kant. The UCI, ‘Act only on a maxim you can coherently imagine as a universal law’, seems interpretable only in that way. If you can so imagine X, then act only on X.

So ‘Suicide’ (or ‘Become extinct’) is a universalisable maxim, and fits, as a possibility, with actual natural law. Yet ‘Don’t suicide’ is also universalisable. We can coherently imagine each of those conflicting maxims as a law of nature, and that is all that Kant’s natural-law version of the UCI asks. (E.g., humans don’t have an all-powerful survival instinct, but we can coherently imagine such an instinct motivating non-suicide universally.) Regardless of actual laws of nature, we can coherently imagine all persons committing suicide, and coherently imagine all not committing suicide. That is, ‘Suicide’ and ‘Don’t suicide’ are both universalisable, and so they are both moral laws according to the UCI.

Yet which of the mutually-contradictory (alleged) moral laws here (and elsewhere) should we choose? Choice involves a method of choice. If we use the UCI as our method, it gives us no guide regarding which to choose. (Kant attempts to solve this problem, as mentioned a few paragraphs ago. I’ll later discuss this, arguing that he fails.)

Similar problems occur with truthfulness. As argued above, ‘Never lie’ is universalisable, but ‘Always lie’ is not. So, on first view, it can seem there could be no contradictory laws here. Of ‘Never lie’ and ‘Always lie’, only the former is universalisable. But James Rachels[47] gives the following example, showing that Kant might still have a problem here:-

During World War II some Dutch fishers hid Jews on their fishing boats, taking the Jews to safety in England. Sometimes a Nazi patrol-boat intercepted them, and asked if there were any Jews on board. If the Dutch told the truth, they and the Jews would be killed. If they lied and the Nazis searched the ship, the Dutch and the Jews would be killed. If they lied and the Nazis did not search, they and the Jews would live. The Dutch lied. Often the Nazis did not search.

Rachels points out that we can universally practise ‘Never lie except when a lie is likely to save an innocent life’. So which of that moral law and ‘Never lie’ do we choose?

Rachels’s point can be applied to Kant’s example of an inquiring would-be murderer. Kant describes a possible case where someone knows where the intended, innocent victim of a would-be murderer is hiding. The would-be murderer inquires where the intended victim is. Suppose you have hidden several innocent children from an intending murderer, Arthur. Arthur asks you where they are. If you lie, then call the police, probably no innocent life would be lost. Yet Kant insists that the only moral law here commands you to not lie. However, here Kant perhaps does not properly apply his fundamental principle, the UCI[48]. The UCI seems to imply that, to a rule such as ‘Never lie’, we can add a qualification, such as ‘except to save an innocent life’, and still have a universalisable rule.

We could add other universalisable qualifications, e.g., ‘except where the truth will upset someone’ (e.g., as in telling certain persons you truly think are unalterably stupid or unattractive that you truly think they are unalterably stupid or unattractive). But which do we add, and why? There is an epistemic problem if we can never know which is justifiable..

Concluding remarks here:- Again, such universalisable maxims contradict others. E.g., we cannot all follow both ‘Never lie’ and ‘Never lie, except when the truth will upset someone’. There can be times when we must choose between such rules. Kant’s UCI gives us no unproblematic standard via which we can choose, because the UCI (allegedly) justifies each of such conflicting rules. So, in such cases, the UCI, Kant’s (alleged) most general moral law, gives us no knowable, unambiguous, single, objective, right thing to do. This then, so far, is an impracticable morality, or a morality which is not objective, in that it cannot objectively tell us which choice to make. It cannot be objective in that Kant says ‘objective’ means ‘valid for all rational beings’, i.e., there would be no contradictions. That is, thinking based on non-contradiction as such, or on universalisability as such, cannot show us which of many conflicting moral implications of the UCI is right.

But Kant might have another principle which solves that problem. What would solve it? As J.S. Mill suggests[49], one ultimate standard is needed, via which we can choose among any contradictory prescriptions. In practice, at any one time, we can only do one of any two or more contradictory things; so we need some way of deciding which to do. This ultimate standard needs to give one, overall, specific practicable guideline. The UCI only gives a formal and hence too-general guideline. That is, a person can practise the command ‘Only do the universalisable’ — but in either of conflicting specific ways, e.g., via ‘Suicide’ or ‘Don’t suicide’, or via ‘Never lie’ and ‘Lie to protect innocent lives’.

Suppose you are faced with a would-be murderer asking you where the intended victim is, whom you’ve hidden. And suppose you use Kant’s UCI as the basis of your morality. Because ‘Always be truthful’ and ‘Lie to protect innocent lives’ are universalisable, this seems to imply you should tell the truth to the murderer, and that you should lie to protect innocent lives. Further, other universalisable maxims here are ‘Help others’ and ‘Don’t help others[50]’. So should you help the murderer, and help the intended victim, or just one of them, or help neither? (And, if you help, how should you help?)

Some specific standard or principle, more ultimate than such contradictory principles, is needed to choose among them. A judge is needed, to umpire, via that standard. The judge reflects on each contradictory principle, and in that sense has a judgemental level of thought above the things reflected on and judged. So here part of the judge’s mind is at a higher or more ultimate level than the principles being judged. This higher, judgemental level could decide, via its ultimate standard, (1) that all the contradictory principles are equally justified, and hence that it is appropriate that some other, lower-level standard decides, e.g., chance. So coin-tossing could decide among them. Or, (2) the judgement could be the same as Kant’s, namely that, for reasons mentioned above, regardless of the consequences, the highest priority[51] is to never lie. (Here I’ll ignore the following further complication:- ‘Never lie’ means either (2a) telling the murderer the truth, or (2b) silence. Or, because ‘Always be truthful’ also fits those reasons and prioritising, you should only (2c) tell the murderer the truth.) Or, (3) as Kant also suggests, (as discussed further later,) you might judge that respect for and hence protection of persons is a categorical imperative, an equivalent version of the UCI, the ultimate or most general rule, and that murderers deserve death, and innocent persons do not, and that hence truthfulness is the less important of the contradictory principles. From this viewpoint, the would-be murderer should be told nothing or untruthfully told that you don’t know where the intended innocent victim is. Then the police could be secretly called.

Something like that process is at least implicitly how such judgements are made. In (2) and (3), the judge found that one of the conflicting principles was the same as or implied by the standard the judge used to decide. In (1), however, the judge seems to me to have reached the conclusion implied by the UCI, the formal standard Kant says is the most general categorical imperative. In other words, in-effect here the judge has something equivalent to the UCI as the single, ultimate standard, or the judge could be Kant using only that formal standard. Again, the UCI is a major problem. Unless Kant can bring in either an equivalent or a further, specific ultimate standard, he has to accept that conflicting principles are equally justified, and hence judge that choice should be via chance or the variable subjective preferences he rules out elsewhere (as mentioned in Part I, Chapter 3, Section 1) . This acceptance seems arbitrary and incoherent. (The same applies to judging that each contradictory principle is equally permissible, which is discussed later.) Again, such acceptance is epistemically too problematic. (But so are (2), (2a,b and c) and (3), if the judge’s standard is epistemically too problematic. This, I’m arguing, is the case with all moral theories, including Kant’s.)

Further, if respect for and hence protection of persons is a categorical imperative equivalent to the UCI, as Kant says, then these two equivalent ultimate laws conflict when you have to decide what to do with that would-be murderer — because non-protection or non-helpfulness is universalisable and hence lawful according to the UCI. This conflict would certainly be incoherent. It would be analogous to the lawful ‘Two quarters plus two quarters is a whole’ conflicting with the lawful, equivalent, ‘A half plus a half is a whole’.

Summarising some recent points:- Judging unambiguously between conflicting alternatives requires a judgemental standard you regard as equivalent to one of the alternatives, or as higher or more ultimate than those alternatives and implying one of them. If each alternative conforms to the same formal standard, the choice clearly cannot be unambiguously made by that standard. This is the problem Kant’s UCI has. With this, what we do in practice inherently involves specific content, i.e., something unambiguously practicable, something observable. The formal as such is not observable.

Suppose there is a true ultimate, specific standard, and it is ‘The protection of innocent[52] human life’, with ‘truthfulness’ judged as next in importance or degree of justifiability. Here, faced with the would-be murderer, it is clearly most justifiable to follow ‘Never lie, except when lying is likely to save an innocent life’, rather than ‘Never lie’[53]. And it would be clear that, in order to indirectly help protect innocent lives, it is justifiable to help innocent persons by ensuring they are healthy, well-fed, safe in general, and so on. The opposite maxim, also universalisable, ‘Don’t help them’, would be ruled out by that standard. And so on.

Such a standard would also solve the problems, related to those just discussed, which Kant has regarding the term ‘maxim’, in relation to the concept ‘area’:-

Regarding maxims (allegedly) justified by the UCI, it is often not clear in which area one maxim applies, as distinct from where another applies. A maxim is supposed to be the most general rule in an area. But where does an area begin and end? E.g:-

Consider the four universalisable maxims: (i) ‘Be helpful’; (ii) ‘Have sufficient rest to stay healthy’; (iii) ‘Always be truthful’; and (iv) ‘Protect innocent human life’ (This is no longer being hypothetically assumed to be the ultimate standard. Here it is just another universalisable maxim). ((i) is the most general statement covering the area or issue of whether to be helpful. (ii) is the most general statement covering the area or issue of whether you should rest and to what degree. And so on.)

Each such maxim can be unambiguously applied only if the areas covered by a maxim are separate. This is like the following situation:- You insist that, in any house you own, your paint maxims will include: ‘The kitchen walls will only be blue’ and ‘The laundry walls will only be red’. Suppose, in one house, that the kitchen and laundry are separate rooms or areas. Here you can apply your two paint maxims easily. Here there is no conflict, no need for a judge to decide between conflicting maxims. But suppose you move to another house. Here the laundry and kitchen are combined in the same area. The clothes-washing machine is under a kitchen bench. There is only one sink, used for both dish-washing and hand-laundering. And so on. Here there is conflict. The same wall (area) cannot be both only blue and only red.

Similarly, consider those maxims, (i)-(iv). The areas are not necessarily separate. You might really need some rest at time T, in order to stay healthy. But at time T various persons could need and ask for your help with cooking. Apart from the problem of who you should help first, or help instead of helping another person, how do you decide between the helpfulness maxim and the needed-rest maxim? Both are equally (allegedly) justified via the UCI. Here apparently separate areas overlap. Where there could seem two areas, now there is a third — the area or issue concerning situations when you are simultaneously health-threateningly tired and asked to help.

In sum, the concept ‘maxim’ can be incoherent — a concept too vague to be unambiguous or useful in practice. It is not specific enough to be epistemically justifiable. That is, we cannot unambiguously know what to do. Such situations can be much more complex, i.e., with more than two maxims being originally involved. E.g., consider that just-mentioned ‘2 then 3 areas’, or an ‘initially 2 maxims applicable, but later 3 maxims applicable’ situation. To this could be added more initial maxims, or apparent areas. Suppose that at time T the would-be murderer also appears, asking where the intended victims are. Do you obey your maxim ‘Never lie’, or go to sleep, or help the person needing your help with cooking? And, if you tell the murderer where the intended victim is, do you also implement your maxim, ‘Protect innocent human life’, by fighting the would-be murderer now swinging an axe towards a child victim. The areas and maxims overlap and increase confusingly, making yet more areas; and so on. Trying to determine divisions among areas can mean they multiply incomprehensibly.

Similarly, where there could appear just one area, with one maxim, there can be more, within it. Consider the maxim, ‘Be helpful’, and suppose it is the ultimate, single, true moral principle. Apparently, here you only have to focus primarily on one maxim, on one area — an area covering everyone you could help, whenever you could. (It would be morally irrelevant what you did in other areas, i.e., if there was a time no-one you could help needed help.) However:-

Suppose your neighbour, your child, your aged parent, a stranger, and someone who hates you and will do nothing to help you, all need the same amount of help at time T. This splits what seemed one area into five areas, namely the ‘Neighbour-needs-help’ area, the ‘Your-child-needs-help’ area, and so on. Correspondingly, here you need to choose among the five universalisable maxims: ‘Be helpful to any neighbours’, ‘Be helpful to any children you have’, ‘Be helpful to any aged parents you have’, ‘Be helpful to any strangers you meet’ and ‘Be helpful to any persons who hate you and won’t help you’. (There could be many more than five here, and within any apparently single area. E.g., what is the justified maxim regarding helping someone you could help but does not wish to be helped?, and helping yourself?)

Each of those five maxims is the most general statement in the area it concerns. That is, what was allegedly one area divides into five, where an alleged five maxims apply. So, again, the term ‘maxim’, and hence ‘areas’ or ‘issues’, is too vague and can mean contradictions. If you help one person here at time T, this conflicts with you being able to help others who need it at T.

Kant’s notion of a maxim is epistemically too problematic, unless there is just one sufficiently specific ultimate maxim or standard applying holistically, i.e., over all possible areas. Even if the UCI, ‘Act only on a maxim which can be universally applied, i.e., as a law’, was epistemically justified as a formal, general holistic principle, we would still not know which specific maxim to apply. We would not have inherently unambiguous knowledge here. This involves the fact that we can only apply a maxim in an area — and the concept of ‘area’ here can be hopelessly ambiguous.

Related to this, the way Kant separates duties (allegedly) implied by the UCI into two general areas is problematic, including for the notion of the UCI or, thence, the notion of ‘moral law’:-

Kant says duties are implied by moral laws, and are either perfect or imperfect. Perfect duties are those one should universally strictly fulfil, i.e., in every relevantly similar situation. ‘Never lie’ is one such duty, says Kant. However, imperfect duties allow us to be flexible, i.e., not so strict. Here, he says, we need not fulfil the duty in every relevantly similar situation[54]. E.g:-

Kant says each person has an imperfect duty to develop their individual talents, and an imperfect duty to help others. As far as possible, we could universally always help others whenever they need it (including indirectly helping them by developing those of our talents we need to do so, e.g., via becoming strong enough to better help others gardening, as distinct from any talents one can use for purely individual ends). Yet Kant says we do not have a duty to universally help others (though the UCI suggests we do (and do not)). Instead, Kant says we need to be flexible. So, sometimes, instead of helping others, we may fulfil the duty of developing our purely individual talents; and vice versa. Similarly, there are duties which are sub-duties under one of those two general duties, e.g., under ‘Help others’ come ‘Help neighbours’ and ‘Help your parents’, and Kant says we may be flexible concerning shifting among such (sub-)duties.

One epistemic problem here is that, of two or more simultaneously incompatible imperfect duties or sub-duties we could fulfil, we can never know which we should fulfil, or to which degree. This problem is related to the previously mentioned area or borderline problem.

There is potential conflict here in that a person trying to fulfil Kant’s (alleged) imperfect duties could be torn between whether to fulfil this, or that, duty. This conflict is resolvable in an epistemically justifiable way only via there being a single, ultimate epistemically justifiable end and associated holistic duty. Here the decision would be that, based on the best information available, doing this rather than that in a certain situation would be more likely to achieve that end, fulfilling that single duty. There would be a balance needed among the means to achieve just one end. This would involve much less uncertainty than having innumerable ends to achieve via innumerably more balances among means, and having to decide (justifiably?) among the conflicting ends.

Another problem for Kant here is that he implies there is a permissive law covering imperfect duties, i.e., a law stating we are permitted to be flexible here — but elsewhere he rules out laws permitting us to shift around thus. (The Appendix discusses this.) So here his theory is self-contradictory.

A related problem concerns Kant assuming that an imperfect duty need not be done universally. Here the alleged moral law regarding any such duty would not be a law which needs to be applied universally[55]. But, according to the UCI, and to the form of all objective laws, as in science and, allegedly, perfect duties, universal applicability is inherent in a law[56] — among all similarly relevant situations. Kant’s use of the term ‘imperfect’ suggests that an alleged moral law here is imperfectly universal, i.e., not universally applicable. So, according to a definition of ‘law’ which Kant insists on, the alleged imperfect duties and corresponding alleged laws are not lawful. Hence the so-called laws cannot legitimately imply duties.

Or, Kant’s view here suggests there is one ‘laws of type U’ area, where the type of law is laws which are universally applicable, i.e., applicable in all areas or situations relevant to the law, and another, ‘laws of type not-U’ area, where laws are not universally applicable. A parallel in science would be a law, say Boyle’s law concerning gases, applying always, i.e., perfectly, in all relevant areas or situations, i.e., wherever there is a gas; but another law, say the law of gravity, would only apply sometimes, i.e., imperfectly, in relevant areas. So, e.g., in the area ‘Persons jumping up’, some persons jumping up would sometimes go into outer space. This is absurd, epistemically unsound — and so is any parallel claim that some moral laws (and associated duties) apply universally and some do not.

With this, there is a problem for Kant regarding his epistemic standard, non-contradiction. Doing X only sometimes, not others, suggests a contradiction — between ‘Doing X (is lawful)’ and ‘Not doing X (is lawful)’. How can it be lawful, via non-contradiction and related universal applicability, to both do X and not do X?

One defence of Kant here claims (i) that each law/duty is situationally or context dependent, and, so, in situations of type S1, e.g., where someone needs help, duty DS1 (‘Do X’, here, help them) applies; and in situations of type S2, duty DS2 applies (so do something other than X, i.e., ‘Do not do X’); and (ii) that the defence works because situations S1 only exist sometimes, at times when S2 does not exist.

Yet at least some of Kant’s suggested positive laws and associated imperfect duties concern situations which exist at all times, universally. E.g., (1) there is always someone you could help, somewhere in the world; and (2) you could always do something to help yourself, e.g., to perfect[57] your individual talents (even when asleep, because perfecting your sleep is conceivably an individual talent). So that defence fails, because, regarding at least some alleged imperfect duties, both S1 and S2 always exist. Kant insists that a law applies in all relevantly similar areas or situations. If so, Kant’s theory requires us to do both X and not-X simultaneously, always, which Kant rules out elsewhere. A self-contradiction.

Concluding recent points concerning imperfect and perfect duties:- Here is yet another area-problem and related maxim/law problem for Kant. Dividing duties or laws into two general areas or types, along with innumerable (sub-)duties in an area, involves the previously-mentioned area-problems, plus the problem of contradictions concerning Kant’s concepts of what a duty or law is. Similarly regarding the (alleged) laws and duties Kant says come under each of those two general types.

If there was only one objective, ultimate, specific moral or practical standard and associated end, there would only be one, overall area, and only one general duty or law, universally applicable. If the standard was sufficiently specific, there would be minimal boundary problems among sub-areas — a manageable minimum. The sub-areas would only concern the various balanced means to that single end. (This is discussed further, soon, and later[58].)

Recent and other arguments above imply that epistemic justifiability inherently involves having just one such standard (if there is one at all), e.g., to avoid inherently epistemically unjustifiable contradictions and associated non-universal applicability.

The UCI, and Kant’s theory in general, do not suggest it is justified to only have some such single sufficiently specific standard. (I’ll shortly argue that the somewhat specific standard Kant advocates, namely ‘Persons as ends’, is not sufficiently specific, and is not meant to be.)

Suppose there is only one epistemically justifiable ultimate practicable standard. An inherent aspect of being epistemically justifiable is that the standard must be sufficiently specific so we can have sufficient knowledge of what to practise. Suppose again that this standard is ‘The protection of innocent human life’, and that, somehow, it is unambiguous. This standard also states a practicable end (and a duty). This would be the end at which all truly justifiable (dutiful) acts aim. All truly justifiable acts would be either the direct achieving of that end or a means to that end. They would not be acts under equally justifiable maxims. Such maxims advocate different and hence potentially conflicting ends, as happens via the UCI. A balance among complementary means to just one end is a very different thing from having equally justifiable conflicting ends. Balanced, complementary means do not conflict, and cannot conflict with the end they achieve.

So, with just that (hypothetical) one justifiable standard, all justifiable acts would be in the same area as the end specified by that standard. E.g., whether we tell the truth or not would only depend on whether the truth or a lie is more likely to protect an innocent life. There would be no border problems among or within the maxims/areas ‘Never lie’, ‘Never lie, except when lying is likely to save an innocent life’, ‘Be helpful to all, i.e., including would-be murderers, and their intended innocent victims’, ‘Be helpful only to those who help you’, ‘Be helpful only to those innocents who need their lives protected’, and so on. Only some of those rules concern acts which are a means to the end specified by that (hypothetical) ultimate standard, and are hence implied by that end, or are a restatement of and hence equivalent to that standard. Indeed, here there would only be one, overall maxim, stating that single end. All the rest of what Kant calls ‘maxims’ would more appropriately be called ‘sub-maxims’ or ‘instrumental prescriptions’. Only some of those just-mentioned prescriptions concern acts which are a means to the end specified by that (hypothetical) ultimate standard, or are a restatement of that standard. Each such thereby-justifiable prescription would either come under that one, overall maxim or end, or be equivalent to that end. So they would not need to be separate, or, rather, separable, via the borders between maxims (prescriptions) being clear, which they are not. (The same applies to the corresponding areas or sub-areas.)

By contrast, under Kant’s UCI, each universalisable maxim here, at least under one of the alleged two main types of law, would be merely one of various maxims, each being equally (allegedly) justified by the UCI. Again, this would leave us with confusing conflicts.

In conclusion here:- Kant’s theory would not have those problems if it also has (or could be developed to have) only one, objective (epistemically justifiable) end-content — a specific or concrete maxim, equivalent to the formal or non-specific UCI, or a justifiable replacement for the UCI. This end would solve the epistemic problems of the UCI, which, as it stands, is incomplete or too limited to be unambiguously or usefully applicable.

Kant’s theory does claim to have such an end. Kant proposes that the objective, specific end is persons, because, he says, they are ends-in-themselves. (Rawls has a similar notion, and so the next chapter’s discussion can often be adapted to apply to this fundamental part of his theory.)

PART I, CHAPTER 5: ISSUES REGARDING KANT’S ATTEMPTED SOLUTION TO THOSE PROBLEMS

The general conclusion I’ll argue for here is that Kant tries to solve the above problems via other, even more problematic notions: he tries to solve problems arising from the limited nature of those epistemic notions via importing moral, inherently epistemically unjustifiable notions:-

Kant recognises that any practicable theory needs an end which is specific[59], so that there is something substantive at which to aim and which humans can be motivated to aim at[60]. He realises that, instead of having just a formal fundamental principle, the UCI, humans need content, a non-formal end-content. He says persons are that end-content:-

He argues that there are equivalent versions of the UCI, and that one of them is: ‘Always treat persons as ends, never merely as a means’[61]. This, then, he says, is also the ultimate categorical imperative, an absolute most general and hence holistic (all-areas) moral command. He says persons are ends-in-themselves, and hence of absolute value. This (alleged) ends-in-themselves nature of persons is, Kant says, the single, objective specific moral end. (He also says there are other specific versions of this end. E.g., he says there is an equivalent ‘Society of Ends’ principle. There are problems with these, related to or the same as the problems above, so there is no need to discuss them here. Some are more directly discussed later. Anyway, the following discussion, and various points above, can be adapted to apply to them all — as well as to a claim that the UCI can be replaced by a superior standard such as ‘Persons as ends’.)

Kant’s problems regarding ‘Always treat persons as ends(-in-themselves), never merely as a means’, and his attempt to equate it with the UCI, include the following:-

Firstly, consider the UCI’s ‘Only do what is universalisable’. It is conceivable we could universally treat each persons merely as a means, via having an end in-itself-unchosen by any person, e.g., via coin-tossing among random words till some practicable end appeared, we could all end up only aiming for there to be ‘No round stones’. Or all could at least treat all as a means in certain situations. So the claimed equivalence is doubtful. If the UCI can imply prescriptions which conflict with ‘Always treat persons as ends, never merely as a means’, then the UCI cannot be equivalent to ‘Always treat persons as ends, never merely as a means’[62]. (Analogously, ‘1+2=3’ conflicts with ‘1+2=7’, so they are not equivalent.)

Secondly, Kant says[63] a categorical imperative must have a form (universalisability), plus some content as an end — so we can know specifically what to aim at. He adds that this end must have subjective (and objective) meaning for humans deciding whether to implement the imperative, so as to motivate them to actually implement it. Yet elsewhere he rules out content and the subjective, saying that the only thing a rational being can have as a categorical imperative, the only thing valid for all rational beings as such, is the objective formal principle underlying all rationality, namely non-contradiction and, with this, universalisability — giving us the UCI. He says [64] that rational beings are inherently motivated to obey the moral law only by the formal idea or “bare principle” of universalisability. This idea contains “nothing sensible”, by which he means the motivation is not based on anything we can sense, i.e., observe — namely any content, let alone any specific (practicable) subjectively appealing content. We are motivated “without any matter (or object) [content]” being involved. That is, he says the moral law’s form alone (universalisability), not content, makes rational beings interested in obeying the moral law. And, as shown above, Kant says the true morality is only that which is valid for all rational beings, and is hence not based on anything to do with human nature. ‘Human nature’ includes any subjective desire or need to be motivated by something non-formal.

There also seems no epistemic justification for Kant thinking that ‘Always treat (respect) persons as ends, never merely as a means’ could be derived from the purely formal rational notions involved in the UCI. (The same clearly applies to restatements of ‘Always treat persons as ends, never merely as a means’, e.g., the ‘Society of Ends’ allegedly equivalent version of the UCI.) How could respect for persons as ends-in-themselves come out of the principle(s) of non-contradiction and universalisability? In other words, how could a subjectively-experienced respect for persons as ends come out of a rational-being-as-such aspect of our nature? The UCI is a principle which would inherently be obeyed by rational beings as such, namely beings thinking or operating only via the fundamental principles of non-contradiction and universalisability. These beings have no emotions, nothing subjective, able to tempt them to not think via those principles, e.g., to be selfish instead of only doing what all could do. Now a computer is a being capable of rationality, without emotions. Also, we can conceive of a purely rational god, or alien, or a human somehow without those emotions. Why would a purely rational being as such, as in a computer, respect persons as ends-in-themselves? Where would the respect come from? How could and why would a purely rational being, like a computer, respect anything?, let alone persons? Such points can be applied to what Kant says is the rational-being-as-such aspect of humans.

As Kant points out, purely rational beings must be somehow directly or indirectly motivated to be rational as such[65]. E.g., computers will do nothing unless turned on and programmed by humans. Yet, to be a purely rational being as such, all this motivation needs to be is the motivation to be rational as such, as in a computer, namely, Kant says, to operate via non-contradiction and universal applicability, as in adding 1 and 2 to give 3. It does not need to be a motivation to respect persons as ends-in-themselves.

If rational beings, or human beings, must be somehow motivated to be rational, this might seem to suggest they’d thereby respect rationality. However, many beings can be motivated to do things they do not respect, e.g., to break their own resolutions, lie, steal from or hurt or not help innocent or loved others, and be lazy. Being motivated to do X does not necessarily mean respect for X. So being motivated to be rational does not necessarily imply respect for rationality. A necessary respect for the rationality of persons is sometimes said by Kant to be the basis for respect for persons as ends-in-themselves. But if there is no necessary respect for rationality, that basis disappears. (Similarly regarding respect for the (alleged) wishes of rational beings, sometimes alleged to be the basis of imperfect duties.)

Similarly, contrary to what Kant says, it is not necessary for a rational being as such to respect or regard itself as an end, an end-in-itself, or as a person who is an end-in-itself. It is plausibly not even conceivable that a rational being as such could think thus. (Computers, as purely rational beings, tend to be used merely as a means (to our ends), and seem not to complain about this.) If that inconceivability applies, this would mean that Kant’s above-mentioned ‘conceivable as universally applicable’ part of the criterion for a law does not apply to ‘Always treat (respect) persons as ends-in-themselves’. Here too, that principle could not be equivalent to the UCI. It could also not be justifiable, as we cannot justify the inconceivable.

Kant suggests[66] it is objective that we are ends-in-ourselves because we, as purely rational beings, “necessarily conceive [our] existence as being so”, and hence respect ourselves as ends. He says we subjectively experience ourselves as absolute ends, hence worthy of respect, because we objectively are ends-in-ourselves; and that because all rational beings necessarily conceive of themselves as ends-in-themselves, it is objective (valid for all rational being) that we are ends-in-ourselves, deserving respect. This seems to be begging the question, without evidence for the premises, as discussed generally in Chapter 1, and hence problematically circular.

How could a rational being as such understand the notion ‘persons as ends-in-themselves’, and thence conceive of itself as a ‘person who is an end-in-itself’? A purely rational being, as such, plausibly seems to have no ends, i.e., no aims, no desires, except, in a sense, to be rational, via thinking via non-contradiction and universalisability. Non-contradiction and universalisability are purely formal notions: no content, nothing empirical, such as respect, or knowledge of what ends are or a person is, could come out of them. (An analogy, or perhaps an example of that point:- 1+2=3 is a purely formal, non-contradictory, universally applicable and hence rational notion. But 1+2=3 as such gives us no understanding at all regarding specific content. E.g., 1+2=3 does not tell us whether or that there are one plus two ducks, apples, or persons, and so on. 1+2=3 also gives us no indication that it respects anything, or that it implies or recognises that persons exist and are ends-in-themselves.)

Further, for us too, what does ‘ends-in-themselves’ mean?; and how can persons be ends-in-themselves? It is comprehensible that persons have ends, i.e., aims, i.e., motivations. The UCI, ‘Act only on a maxim ...’, implies that persons have ends in that acting on a maxim achieves an end[67]. Yet this does not imply that persons are ends. Again, the UCI is not equivalent to ‘Always treat persons as ends, never merely as a means’.

The ends persons can have include happiness, economic success and health. Such ends are comprehensible notions to us (though plausibly not to a rational being as such). If someone says they think that happiness, health or kindness is a justifiable end-in-itself, namely of intrinsic moral value, I can understand what they mean. I will not agree that they are right, but, as with understanding what each term means in ‘1+2=7’, their moral claim is comprehensible enough for me to assess whether I think it is right. But, to me, (and moreso to rational beings as such,) the notion of a person being an end is too vague. We can think a person has a right to pursue certain (comprehensible) ends, and hence respect that (alleged) right, and respect the person’s ends here. But how do we respect a person as an end? To me, this concept is incomprehensible. It is not specific enough to be practicable. Kant does not intend it to be very specific, and that means he has the above-discussed problems here.

Also, the very general claim that we should respect all persons as ends-in-themselves suggests we should respect them regardless of the specific ends they have, and hence, plausibly regardless of what sort of person they are. E.g., an aim (end) of Hitler was to destroy or enslave most of humanity, including many persons whose ends in science, the arts etc, are widely respected — and some deserve ‘epistemic respect’ in that they achieved epistemically justifiable things to a large degree. E.g., Hitler would have killed Einstein and Bertrand Russell. We need a standard much more specific than ‘persons as ends-in-themselves’ by which to judge what is epistemically justifiably worthy of respect. Kant’s claim here is sometimes interpreted to mean that we should treat all persons respectfully because all persons at least potentially deserve respect, in that the unjustifiable characters might reform. But this interprets such persons as potential ends-in-themselves. This admits that not all persons are ends-in-themselves. And perhaps some are not even potentially so. E.g., Hitler seems to have been unreformable.

With this, what is a person, or personality, or a person’s character, as distinct from the ends they characteristically aim at, and the means they relatedly characteristically use to achieve those ends? That is, it seems most epistemically justifiable that we can know what a person is via the ends a person has, rather than know that a person is an end. People tend to respect persons if they are, e.g., brave, reliable, honest, hard-working and kind[68], i.e., because of the ends they characteristically have. Many of us do not respect persons who are characteristically lazy, weak-willed, cowardly, unreliable, parasitic, selfish, deceptive, unkind and so on, namely because of the ends they have here in practice..

Further here, Kant himself suggests that such persons are morally inferior and hence deserving of less respect than persons with the opposite characteristic ends. This relates to his suggestion[69] that persons who do their duty, using strong willpower to reliably resist powerful, selfish temptations to not do their duty, are worthy of more respect than persons who do their duty in the absence of such temptations, and worthy of much more respect than persons who give into such temptations and don’t do their duty.

We too don’t just disregard such things, and equally respect all such types of person — probably because considering such things seems to give us a truer and hence epistemically justifiable view concerning what a certain person is.

Concluding recent points:- Recent points imply that, to actually achieve the end, ‘Treat persons as ends ...’, would be too difficult. The task would be too unclear. So Kant’s standard here seems impracticable. If we lack sufficient specific knowledge of what a concept means, we cannot know what to do regarding it. This makes it epistemically too problematic. This applies to the concept ‘persons as ends-in-themselves’. And we do not separate our purely rational aspect from the other aspects of our nature or person-ness[70] and, then, via that purely rational viewpoint (aspect), look only at each others’ purely rational aspect (viewpoint), thereby regarding each other as ends-in-ourselves persons. No such viewpoint can come out of our purely rational aspect, or from any epistemically justifiable standpoint.

The few previous paragraphs concentrated on Kant’s view regarding how we see each other. More on how one sees oneself:-

Apart from recent points suggesting that one’s rational aspect cannot see itself as an end-in-itself, there is also the issue: ‘How does oneself as a person, namely with rational and other aspects, see oneself?’. Does every person really conceive of themselves as an end-in-oneself? I don’t. Perhaps it is common, an aspect of common (natural) morality, to wish oneself to survive. But this intersubjectively-desired end has a scientifically explainable basis: the desire relates objectively only to the naturally-selected motivation to pass on genes, and hence to survive long enough to do so via sex and caring for one’s group’s children till they are sufficiently independent to continue the process. This natural end, this on-average mere tendency, is very different from the moral claim that there is a universal (inter)subjective necessary and objective conception of oneself as an end-in-oneself, or as (an in-part) rational being[71] and hence an end-in-oneself.

Even if we did all see ourselves as ends-in-ourselves, this could merely be a comforting delusion, a delusion of grandeur, or natural vanity or selfishness. If it is a delusion, it would not be what (epistemically) rational beings necessarily see themselves as, because a rational being as such cannot have false beliefs. Selfish, arrogant or egocentric persons see themselves as being of absolute value. This is more understandable than the claim that rational beings see themselves as being of absolute value. This problem for Kant is even a possibility suggested by parts of Kant’s theory, where he attacks self-centredness as a basis for morality.

The actual, i.e., knowable, i.e., epistemically justifiable or objective notion here, involves the fact that some of us wish to not survive, or wish to not survive once our children are independent[72] — and this can be unselfish, e.g., by letting others have the scarce resources oneself would consume if alive; and this is universalisable. Therefore, it would be something advocated by Kant’s theory, as explained above. So Kant’s theory implies (though sometimes denies) that persons, in certain situations, should unselfishly view themselves as a means to help others survive. This suggests that this view involves seeing the others’ survival, not oneself, as the justifiable end here. Or, it is plausible that Kant at least implicitly considers it a justifiable end to be unselfishly only (as opposed to ‘merely[73]’) a means to help others. This involves not viewing oneself as an end — or of absolute value.

Such persons could sacrifice themselves to let others survive, e.g., if food was insufficient for all, not seeing their own existence (survival) as an end-in-itself — namely of absolute value and hence unjustifiable to sacrifice.

Here perhaps lies another problem for Kantian moral theory. If each person is of absolute value, this suggests that, in a group short of food, no-one should miss out on food, being hence sacrificed for the others. If all are of absolute value, this implies they are all of equal value. Two or more things of absolute value are each of the highest possible value; hence they are of equal value. So how does Kant decide whose life is to be sacrificed? (Similarly for Rawls.) If no-one is sacrificed, most or all of the group will die of starvation. Here all of the dead would have effectively been sacrificed — via their choice or Kant’s theory. This too is an unjustifiable choice according to Kant (and Rawls). Here, effectively, there are only two, contradictory, unjustifiable choices according to a theory placing absolute value on the life of each individual. According to Kant, each person is an end-in-themselves, so no person’s life should be sacrificed, making them merely a means to others’ survival-related ends. Yet Kant sometimes also implies that we should be unselfish, which suggests sacrifice. However, we could not universally sacrifice ourselves to help others survive, or do so only in either-some-or-all-must-die situations, because there would be no ‘others’ left alive in each such situation. They would also have to sacrifice themselves.

In sum, an unambiguously practicable theory, a theory which is epistemically justifiable in that we’d know the most justified thing to do in such situations, would not include Kant’s notion that persons are ends-in-themselves.

The claim that all persons (or rational beings) necessarily see themselves as ends is doubtful. And even if they do, or even if they are, there will still be epistemic problems. E.g., we could not know whether to sacrifice a minority of a group to save the majority, or to universalise and hence sacrifice all, when there are effectively no other choices. An overall conclusion concerning those problems is that, if it is unclear what is meant by persons being ends-in-themselves, or unclear if such entities exist, then we cannot know how to treat persons as ends-in-themselves. So ‘Always treat persons as ends ...’ is epistemically rather vacuous.

With this, the claim that persons are of absolute value, are ends-in-themselves, is a moral claim. This problem is related to the notion that the concept of persons as ends-in-themselves cannot come from or be equivalent to the concept of purely rational beings or rationality as such. The latter concept is an epistemic concept, and because the former is not derivable from or equivalent to that or any epistemic concept, it is not an epistemic concept. It is a moral concept. Hence it has the problems, resulting in epistemic unjustifiability, that all moral concepts have, as discussed in Part I, Chapters 1 and 2. So here there is an epistemic vacuum.

So here lies another problem for Kant’s theory as a whole: he sneaks various moral notions into what is often claimed to be a theory based purely on rationality, an epistemic notion. Some other examples:-

A footnote in Part I, Chapter 4 mentioned Kant’s argument that ‘Don’t help others’ could not be a specific categorical imperative because no rational being would wish to not be helped when the being needed help[74]. Therefore, concludes Kant, a rational being would help others. Now ‘Help others’ is universalisable and is (allegedly) hence an imperfect duty, a moral law. However, here Kant sneaks in moral or morally-related concepts he often insists must be ruled out. He sneaks in the following claim, involving several (the italicised) problematic notions:- ‘A human would wish to be helped, when needed.’[75] Elsewhere he rules out consequences as reasons for acting, and being helped is a wished-for consequence here. He also rules out any specifics of human nature as a basis for morality[76]. This includes human dependence on others, i.e., our natural need for help. (E.g., children rely on parents and farmers etc for the food etc needed to survive; a farmer tends to rely on others for making farming equipment, for health care, transport and so on.) Again, Kant claims his theory is based on the nature of rational beings as such, which, he says, is not necessarily only an aspect of humans. He radically separates the purely rational aspect of humans from their other, animal aspects. So a rational being as such is in a human (who knows something[77]), but is not the same as a human. (Similarly, a pumping system (heart) is in a human, but is not identical with a human. And pumps, like rationality, can be in machines — elsewhere than in humans.)

Further, as implied by recent points, because a rational being as such is simply something capable of reason, as in a computer, it would lack human needs, dependence and wishes. There are also conceivably alien rational beings who, once born, could instantly be independent of others, e.g., by finding or photosynthesising their own food, and so on. Kant elsewhere also rules out what persons wish or desire as a basis for morality. As argued above, Kant points out that if X is objectively right, it is irrelevant if we wish for or like X or not. The UCI only implies what is objectively right, insists Kant, and with this it ignores the subjective. Wishing for anything, including to be helped sometimes, is irrelevant here. Besides, some humans do not wish to be helped. They wish, instead, to not be dependent on others. Some, e.g., certain male suiciders, would literally rather die than ask for help. It is not a necessary aspect of human nature to desire what Kant thinks all rational beings desire, or to desire what Kant seems to presuppose that all humans desire.

If a human desires various things, then if others’ help is part of the means to those ends, it is instrumentally rational to wish for and hence accept that help. But, according to central principles of his theory, Kant is not talking about mere instrumental rationality here. He is talking about rationality concerned with (alleged) moral laws, and associated (allegedly) justified ends. Helping others is, he says, a categorical imperative, but, for Kant, wishing to be helped is a mere ‘instrumental imperative’ (Kant uses the term ‘hypothetical imperative’). So that fact about instrumental rationality is also irrelevant regarding basing moral laws on rational beings’ alleged wishes.

Finally here, perhaps to suit conflicting claims such as those just discussed, Kant sometimes uses the term ‘rational being’ to mean a being that is only or purely rational, and, apparently (to me), sometimes to mean a human being, namely a being with rationality plus animal desires. If he does this, it is not epistemically justifiable. It would involve another contradiction in a theory claiming to be based on non-contradiction. (I have stuck with Kant’s definition of a rational being as a rational being as such, namely one incapable of contradiction — via being without desires (temptations) to do otherwise. This seemed most consistent with what Kant primarily meant, and should have meant in order to be non-contradictory here.)

Another example of Kant’s sneaking in moral concepts, closely related to the notion of persons as ends-in-themselves:-

Kant argues that one specific categorical imperative is ‘Don’t suicide’. Apart from the above point that suicide is universalisable, hence qualifying as a categorical imperative under the UCI, here Kant sneaks in the following moral concept. At least implicitly, Kant’s ‘Don’t suicide’ assumes that each person is of absolute value and so ought to exist as long as possible (regardless, e.g., of whether they are suffering greatly and unavoidably long-term from a fatal disease). Here Kant also assumes it is a law of human nature for us to desire to survive, though elsewhere he rules out our desires, and everything about human (as opposed to rational) nature, as a basis for morality. That is, he rules them out as moral concepts, but sneaks them in.

There is another problem with having persons as ends-in-themselves as the ultimate moral end, and claiming that this notion is the theory’s fundamental principle (or, allegedly, equivalent to the UCI). This problem, discussed in Part I, Chapter 2, is one that all social contract theories and nearly all other[78] moral theories have:-

Again, Kant’s theory is a type of social contract theory. This becomes especially clear when we consider what Kant says is another equivalent version of the UCI, namely his ‘Society of Ends’ notion. Kant says this hypothetical society is the ultimate, ideal state for persons as ends-in-themselves. In that sense, the notion is another equivalent version of ‘Always treat persons as ends(-in-themselves), never merely as a means’. The Society of Ends involves the ideal of the world being one harmonious, democratic society, in which every person treats all other persons equally, as ends-in-themselves. Kant says this involves each person having a fundamental right to have the maximum freedom consistent with every other person having an equivalent degree of freedom. In sum, all persons would agree to live harmoniously, via the UCI, and via respect for each other as ends-in-themselves. Ignoring the impossibility of implementing this agreement, as argued above, the theoretical ideal here is a society, involving a social contract (law-making). Hence Kant’s theory has a problem all social contract theories have:-

It is a problem of moral belief. Kant (and, similarly, Rawls,) believes(s) there should be persons (because persons are ends-in-themselves), and that a society (of and for those ends) should exist. (This assumes that universal suicide, though possible, would be wrong.) This is a moral, not an epistemic, notion. So it involves problematic circularity, begging the question, and so on, as discussed in Part I, Chapters 1 and 2.

Further, Kant’s universal ‘Society of Ends’ notion is an ideal. This society, Kant says, is fully achievable only by perfectly rational beings, i.e., by the ideal, only beings who would universally treat each other as ends, not merely as means. They would inherently lack human-like temptations to selfishly or lazily disobey moral laws. Hence, Kant says, only each such being would always act so that each such being has the maximum degree of freedom consistent with all other such beings having equivalent freedom. So Kant also assumes (or desires) that, ideally, perfectly rational beings should exist and constitute a world society. However, this would mean that, ideally, humans as such would need to cease existing, or at least not be part of that world society. So, does Kant imply that, ideally, humans should develop self-maintaining, perfectly rational machines, then universally suicide, leaving the world to those ideal beings? If the most just(ified) society is Kant’s Society of Ends-in-themselves, that seems to be the most just(ified) thing to do.

There are various other, related problems with Kant’s theory. E.g., consider what he calls ‘freedom’, an important aspect of his theory. (This makes problematic the Society of Ends notion of each person having the maximum freedom consistent with every other person having equivalent freedom.):-

Kant argues that freedom, positively[79], only means obeying the UCI[80]. For him, freedom negatively only means freedom from whatever might successfully influence one to not obey the UCI. (So, for Kant, freedom means only doing one (general) thing among many. I’ll call this his ‘uni-directional’ definition of ‘freedom’.)

One problem here is that this negative, ‘freedom from’ includes freedom from being so influenced by our emotions. Emotions involve wishes. And what we wish for is some consequence, and Kant rules out consequences as a reason for laws. Here, as elsewhere, Kant says wishes should not influence the true morality: a moral law is independent of what we wish, and we should obey the laws, not our wishes (emotions), i.e., be free of their influence. He also applies this to emotions which influence us to act according to the UCI, (e.g., to sympathetically wishing to help others,) arguing that we should act via the UCI only because it is right to do so — not because we feel like it, or wish to do so.

So this is a problem regarding Kant’s basing some laws on what a rational being would, Kant thinks, wish, e.g., an allegedly universal wish to be helped when help is needed. Here, allegedly lawfully, rational beings are not free of what they (allegedly) wish.

Kant’s notion of freedom is also problematic in that we (as lexically rational beings?) normally define ‘freedom’ quite differently. The term ‘freedom’ seems (according to a rational lexicon or vocabulary?) to inherently imply freedom to do more than just one general thing, or more than just one specific thing in each (allegedly) separate area. It implies freedom of choice, and choice means alternatives. Kant says (his uni-directional concept of) freedom is justifiable. Yet, to probably the vast majority of us (as rational beings?), to be fully and justifiably free in some area implies that there are alternatives in that area, each of which is equally available, and that it is justifiably permissible to choose any of them — not be restricted to doing just one thing. With this, an epistemically justifiable or true definition of positive freedom seems to require multi-directionality, not uni-directionality.

So Kant’s definition of freedom seems to contradict what people normally mean by ‘freedom’. For Kant, positive freedom means ‘obedience’ and ‘restriction’ rather than an unrestricted opportunity to not obey and to choose what we like. For him, freedom means obedience to (what he says is) the moral law, and freedom from emotions tempting us, e.g., to enjoy ourselves via breaking (what he says is) the moral law. Yet we tend to think that freedom can involve being free to break laws, and to enjoy oneself, including enjoying things forbidden by law[81].

In sum, Kant’s view(s) of freedom seem(s) weird. (Similarly for the freedom-based or freedom-related allegedly equivalent versions of the UCI, such as the Society of Ends notion.)

Again, Kant sees his uni-directional notion of (alleged) freedom as the true or only justifiable freedom. With this, Kant sometimes tries to justify his whole theory thereby, or at least via a notion he says is implied by his definition of justified freedom[82]. His discussion of what that notion is is obscure, and experts on Kant differ here. Peter Woolcock argues[83] that Kant means autonomy, which of course involves freedom. This argument seems plausible to me. However, whatever that implied notion is, my central point here is that because it is a notion implied by Kant’s concept of freedom, it is an epistemically problematic notion in that Kant’s concept of freedom is epistemically problematic. Hence that attempt at justification fails.

Occasionally below, other problems with Kant’s theory are mentioned, as required by the different context(s) below. But enough has been said to show that Kant’s theory, as it stands (according to my or any plausible interpretation of it), is not epistemically justifiable. Modern Kantians have attempted to solve its problems by altering or re-interpreting Kant’s theory[84]. But various arguments above can be adapted to apply to at least significant parts of each such attempt, showing that Kant’s theory cannot be rescued regarding epistemic justifiability. (Indeed, this book already shows this, criticising such modern Kantians at least implicitly and representatively.) Besides, all this book is trying to do regarding Kant is to show that one plausible interpretation of Kant’s own theory, along with certain deletions and additions, can be developed into an epistemically justifiable practical theory. So here it does not matter what those who attempt to rescue Kant say.

The next chapter begins Part II, a small part of which argues that an epistemically justifiable theory based on Kant’s theory is achievable only by greatly changing it — and that this tends to make it non-Kantian.

Along with Part II’s development of what I think is an epistemically justifiable practical theory, there are further discussions of some moral theories, such as Rawls’s and theories concerning virtues and flourishing. It is argued that some such theories can also be altered to make them fit within an epistemically justifiable theory.

‘UCI’ stands for the ‘Universalisability version of the most general categorical imperative’, namely: Act only on a maxim you can at the same time will to be a universal law.

‘U H/I E/T’ stands for ‘Universally, there is either harmony or irrelevance regarding epistemic justifiability or practicable truth as-a-whole’

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[1] Quine, W.V. & Ullian, J.S. (1978) The Web Of Belief. (2nd ed) New York. Random House. p 11.

[2] Even if that argument is not sound, and there are other ways to correctly justify a moral theory, this book can be viewed as an investigation of the epistemic justifiability of action-guiding theories.

[3] Works by such writers are mentioned in the References/Bibliography at the end of this book.

[4] In philosophy, ‘prescription’ means a statement telling you what you (allegedly) should do. Many philosophers use ‘normative’ instead of ‘prescriptive’. I prefer ‘prescriptive’ because ‘normative theories’ suggests that the values the theories advocate are ‘norms’, i.e., normal — and this is often not the case.

[5] A moral skeptic doubts whether any moral theory is true or close to truth. A moral nihilist is more than just doubtful. A nihilist is sure all moral theories are false.

[6] Various problems with the notions ‘sufficient’ and ‘insufficient’ are discussed below. It can be far from clear how much evidence is sufficient.

[7] This is because the book’s primary aim is to develop an epistemically justifiable theory applicable to all intended practices. So the theory must be sufficiently practicable for this. It must give us and be based on practicable knowledge.

[8] We can use Newton’s physics to land on the moon. From the viewpoint of the truer or more generally true Einsteinian physics, Newton’s physics are epistemically questionable. If the scale is the whole universe, or galaxies, Einstein’s physics is much more accurate. But on the comparatively small scale of the Earth-to-moon distance, Newton is about as accurate as Einstein. So, for purposes such as moon-landings, Newton’s physics is epistemically sufficiently practicable. And it’s easier.

There are controversies concerning such issues. E.g., see Standford, Kyle B. “Pyrrhic Victories for Scientific Realism”, J. Philosophy, vol C. 11. Nov 2003. pp 553-572, and that article’s references. However, various arguments below seem to plausibly resolve the controversies, at least regarding the book’s focus on practicable knowledge.

[9] This distinction relates to the ‘is-ought’ issue, discussed soon.

[10] Moral theories claiming this are criticised soon. One criticism here:- It is plausible that longest-term happiness could be maximised by having, for all future generations, e.g., only one racial type, the presently most numerous, say Chinese. This would avoid the great unhappiness involved in racial conflict. If true, is this evidence that all not of that race ought to be killed (painlessly) or not reproduce? Similarly regarding having only one religion etc.

[11] E.g., one theory claims that pleasure or happiness is what we ought to always only aim to achieve; other theories deny this, claiming instead, e.g., that being responsible, e.g., regarding child-raising and contributing to society, which often involve unpleasurable sacrifices, is most important.

[12] The discussion here is perhaps an over-simplification regarding knowledge in general, though not regarding morality compared with science. Analytic statements include ‘A black cat is black’ and ‘1+2=3’. They are reducible to ‘X is X’, which is circular. E.g., ‘A black cat is black’ is expressible as ‘A black thing is a black thing’, i.e., X is X; and ‘1+2=3’ is ‘1+1+1 is 1+1+1’, i.e., X is X. Some say we can have analytic knowledge, but there are some controversial issues here. The present point is merely and plausibly that we do not need to look outside of an analytic statement for evidence that it is true, i.e., ‘X is X’ just is true, formally — but this is no help in justifying any one morality among the many. ‘X is X’ is abstract, and formal. Morality concerns non-abstract content in that it refers to concrete things such as observable actions, one’s self-observable conscious intentions, and so on. Abstract, analytic statements are no help in investigating whether a moral theory’s content is (close to) the truth. This is because (1) ‘A green cat is green’ is in an analytic sense true, but this is separate from whether it is true there are green cats, in observable reality; and an equivalent separation applies to moral arguments; and (2) if an analytic statement, as in ‘X is X’, could justify non-abstract content, it could justify contradictory things. (This would be like the circular ‘X is right because X is right’, where X could be ‘murder’ or ‘not-murdering’, and so on.) The issue of using an abstract, formal statement in morality is discussed further later, when Kant is discussed.

[13] Dark reddish-purple is the next most useful colour, as in some Prunus trees.

[14] Part II argues that a type of fairness (and much else) can be indirectly epistemically justified. As a moral concept though, fairness is unjustifiable.

[15] The standard involves much more than simple observation. This is discussed further later.

[16] Some philosophers define ‘good’ and ‘right’ as meaning the same thing. Others define them as meaning different things. For the purposes of the present discussion, any of such definitions can apply.

[17] This raises the problem of induction, which is discussed later.

[18] We simply must make choices regarding such things as whether to kill ourselves or others, to act helpfully or unhelpfully, be selfish or unselfish, to care for children or not, or for this child more than that child, to lie or not, to eat meat or not, to smoke or not — and so on. Each such choice is a issue in the how-should-one-live sphere. Each such choice means implementing an associated theory, e.g., a theory advocating that we do not kill ourselves, or that we be helpful in certain situations. If, e.g., we at least implicitly prefer (choose) to be alive rather than not alive, we have an at least implicit theory here — the thought that life is more justifiable than death.

[19] Here I might seem to be holding a moral belief, namely that conflict, war, suffering and so on ought to be avoided. This possibly apparent inconsistency with the book’s anti-moral position is only apparent. Part II argues that there are other, non-moral, epistemically justifiable reasons for avoiding war and so on.

[20] There are complex problems here. A simplified answer is:- Young children are exempt from criticism here. If adults are aware or informed that and why their moral beliefs are questionable, and that they individually have an epistemically justifiable responsibility to investigate the epistemic justifiability of those beliefs and thereon-based acts, then they are fully responsible here. Education is crucial here. (Even young children can begin to understand such issues.)

[21] As Part II will make clear, here I am not beginning an argument allegedly justifying a rigid, authoritarian society. Quite the contrary. E.g., I’m seeking authority for total individual epistemic autonomy (freedom).

[22] I’m using ‘god’ as a non-sexist term, to mean a supernatural being which could have any or both or no gender(s).

[23] By ‘X is plausible’ I mean there is a significant possibility that X is correct. Here there seems to be insufficient evidence to epistemically justify X, but there is more apparently supporting evidence for X than against X, or about the same possibly-significant degree of apparently supporting evidence for X and for some alternative(s). E.g:- Imagine a new disease, the cause of which we have no idea. Going on all the evidence concerning all other known causes of diseases, initially equally plausible hypotheses could include: bacteria, a virus and pollution. Implausible alleged causes include: witchcraft, demons and immorality.

[24] E.g., consider different views concerning the historical fact that Europeans were victorious over the indigenous populations of America. Agreeing on exactly the same fact or true ‘is’ here, some persons believe that the invasion and conquest ought to have occurred, but other persons believe the opposite. A person who has the moral belief that the European conquest of America ought to have occurred, does so ultimately because the person has a moral belief stating or implying that the European conquest of America ought to have occurred. (E.g., the foundation-belief that Europeans tended to be Christian and that Christians ought to rule non-Christians, or that the (allegedly) white (actually pinkish) races are superior and ought to rule the world, implies that the European conquest of America ought to have occurred.) A person who has the moral belief that the European conquest of America ought not to have occurred, does so ultimately because the person has a moral belief stating or implying that the European conquest of America ought not to have occurred. Here there is obviously problematic circularity. This involves the same fact being interpreted via a moral belief. The fact does not imply any moral belief: there is no logical or epistemic connection between them. It is the person’s moral belief which causes the person’s moral interpretation of the fact. The fact does not cause a moral belief, or mean that the moral belief is also a fact, or true.

[25] Hume stressed that this gap exists, and then seems to argue that his theory fills it as far as possible.

[26] Some creatures, e.g., some fish and snakes, do normally kill and eat as many of their young as they can catch. Presumably there is a gene motivating this, or no gene motivating care of their young. Such young do tend to pass on their parents’ genes — simply because the genes give parents the ability to produce newborn which are so numerous, fast-moving and independent that most escape their parent’s jaws. The normal human desire to care for children was presumably naturally selected because newborn humans are very unlike those newborn.

[27] Part II suggests that something like this common core can be indirectly epistemically justifiable. It cannot and need not be justified by a moral theory.

[28] Divergible prescriptions are those a society can have which are very different from another society’s in the same area, and, all else equal, that divergence will not affect the survivability of the society. E.g., in the area ‘dress codes’, suppose one society teaches that bare shoulders are immoral but bare knees are permissible, and another society teaches the opposite; and this divergence has no affect on the survivability of either society. The difference then, would not concern these societies’ common, survival-necessary morality. The distinction between a common core and divergible morals is only rough: it may be very difficult to correctly categorise some moral rules. But that does not matter for present purposes.

[29] The event ‘moral beliefs exist’ is a fact, an ‘is’. A true explanation of that event is an ‘is’. The belief that we ought to have and act on moral beliefs is an ‘ought’. I’m arguing that there is an epistemic gap between that explanatory ‘is’ and that allegedly justified ‘ought’.

[30] An alternative explanation is that there is (are) some god(s) who egotistically put a god-worshipping part in our brain — so that we can worship the god(s). However, this and similar explanations lack objectivity: there is no evidence to epistemically justify any such explanation for us. And, if a specific god created that brain part, why create it so as to allow humans to worship innumerable other very different gods, and human charismatic leaders? There is ample evidence that natural selection occurs, and it seems highly plausible that evolutionary theory can explain brain events which bind a gene-protecting group together via beliefs they gullibly feel confidently comforted by.

[31] Instead of ‘Society of Ends’, many translators of Kant use ‘Kingdom of Ends’. I’ll use the former. Kant used the word ‘Reich’, which can mean many types of State or society. If he meant ‘Kingdom’, I think he would have always used ‘Koenigreich’, which specifically means ‘kingdom’. He did not. With this, Kant argued for a democratic society, with every individual having the maximum freedom consistent with every other individual having that freedom — not a king ruling over less free subjects.

[32] Hobbes, T. Leviathan. Ch XIII

[33] Kant’s theory often directly concerns ‘maxims’ rather than ends, but, as will be explained further below, each maxim implies an end. E.g., the maxims ‘Never lie’ and ‘Help others’ imply, respectively, achieving the ends ‘Lies are never told’ and ‘Others are helped’ or, at least, ‘I intended to help others’.

[34] Regarding the problem of induction which arises here, John Worrall makes amusing insightful comments. See Worrall, J (1989) “Why Popper and Watkins Fail to solve the problem of induction.”, Boston Studies in the Philosophy of Science, 117: 257-96. The problem is discussed further below, later.

[35] Calling this ‘war’ instead of ‘murder’ is a verbal delusion used to help make this moral belief acceptable.

[36] This change could occur via evolution, perhaps related to the fact that people now normally have an urban, technological, mass-society environment, not the non-urban, technologically-primitive, small-tribe environment we evolved in. Or, Earth could be irradiated by something changing most people’s emotional neurophysiology or the common-morality gene(s) passed on to the next generation. So any universally accepted and universally applicable intersubjective theory, say Hume’s, could be replaced by a different intersubjectivity. This replaceability and contradictability would not apply with an objective or epistemically justifiable theory, as in science. (This is expanded on in Part II.)

[37] George Couvalis, Flinders University, South Australia, mentioned this point to me. Again, most ideas in Part I are not mine.

[38] Arguments such as this have been round since the ancient Greeks. Aristotle argued similarly, and I’ve used his ideas here as interpreted by John Hospers. (Hospers, J (1973) An Introduction To Philosophical Analysis. Routledge & Kegan Paul.) Again, most points in Part I were made by other writers.

[39] Two positive (or negative) poles of a magnet do not attract each other. But here gravity still applies, though a magnet’s force can merely be stronger. Such issues are discussed further later.

[40] This example, and the just-mentioned one concerning murder, are mine (though Kant may use them in a minor text I’ve not read) . However, his theory implies them. The next examples, concerning selfishness generally and lying, are Kant’s.

[41] By ‘will’ here, Kant means something like ‘coherently or correctly imagine you’ve commanded’: you are the legislator of X in that you would cause X to be universally done if you could. This relates to the above point that, for Kant, a justifiable act is one which we can know (correctly imagine) is universally applicable, though it might not ever be universally applied (done). As suggested above, and will be explained further shortly, ‘will’ has nothing to do with being ‘willing’, i.e., being happy to do something. ‘Will’, in Kant’s most general categorical imperative, involves being able, without contradiction, to imagine something as universally applying, i.e., as a law. Kant rules out emotion, i.e., willingness and unwillingness, from laws.

[42] Problems regarding this definition are discussed soon.

[43] E.g., in Metaphysics of Morals AK (RPA) 6:224. (Gregor (1996) transl pp 16-17) (Gregor uses ‘AK’ to mean the Academy’s editions of Kant’s work, i.e., the Royal Prussian Academy’s editions, whereas I use ‘RPA’ for the same.)

[44] Because universal applicability and non-contradiction are inextricable regarding epistemically justifiable principles, as in scientific laws, the situation regarding morality or separate maxims shows that what Kant calls ‘moral laws’ are not epistemically justifiable, and not laws.

[45] A farmer told me he saw this happen to one of his flocks of sheep.

[46] Groundwork RPApp 421-424 (‘RPAp’ means ‘Royal Prussian Academy page’)

[47] Rachels, James. (1999) The Elements Of Moral Philosophy. 3rd edition. McGraw-Hill. pp128-9.

[48] Some try to save Kant here by arguing that Kant’s basic principles are correct, but that he applies them to examples he should have avoided — because examples such as that involving a would-be murderer are too problematic, and are argued to not fit with his correct, basic principles. (George Couvalis, Flinders University, South Australia, informally outlined to me this attempt to save Kant.) However, this attempt does not work. E.g:- A basic principle here, Kant says, is that there are only two types of law: negative (prohibitions, i.e., ‘Don’t do X’) and positive (commands, i.e., ‘Do Y’). An associated principle, Kant claims, is that a negative law applies regarding lying because a negative law is defined by its opposite being inconceivable. As argued in the previous chapter, ‘Always lie’ is inconceivable. So, according to Kant, the opposite of ‘Always lie’ is ‘Never lie’, and this is hence a negative law. Yet that associated principle is simply asserted. It seems ad hoc, lacking evidence. We cannot know it is correct or a fundamental truth. Why, e.g., are there not only positive laws, as in ‘Always be truthful’? Negatives can be stated as positives, and ‘Never be truthful’ is inconceivable. Even if that was not an epistemic problem, it is still the case that ‘Always lie’ is inconceivable, so Kant has applied his principle here correctly. But, plausibly, an opposite of ‘Always lie’ is ‘Don’t always lie’ — and ‘Don’t always lie’ can mean the partly negative, partly positive, ‘Don’t always lie, but do lie to achieve X’ or ‘Always be truthful, except to achieve X’. And X can be many different, conflicting universalisable things, including ‘save innocents from murderers’ and ‘help murderers’. Kant’s UCI gives us no way to know what to do here. Other issues here are discussed later.

[49] E.g., in Mill, J.S. (1843) A System of Logic

[50] Kant tries to argue that ‘Don’t help others’ could not be a specific categorical imperative because no rational being would wish to not be helped when the being needed help (Groundwork, RPAp 423.); therefore a rational being would help others, which is universalisable. Kant says that ‘Don’t help others’ is universalisable, but that to obey this would contradict the (alleged) help-needing nature of a rational being. Hence, says Kant, this qualifies ‘Help others’ as a positive law, and, hence, an imperfect duty. However, here Kant sneaks in moral concepts he often insists must be ruled out. He sneaks in the notion that a human would wish to be helped when needed, and the notion that this (alleged) ‘is’ implies that the (alleged) wish ‘ought’ to be acted on. So here he has an is-ought problem. And elsewhere he rules out any specifics of human nature as a basis for morality. This includes human dependence on others, e.g., for food. A ‘rational being’ is not necessarily human, he points out. A rational being is simply something capable of reason, as in a computer, or a conceivable rational god or alien — each of which does or could lack human needs, dependence and wishes. E.g., an alien, once born, could conceivably be independent of others by photosynthesising its own food, and so on. Kant elsewhere also rules out what persons wish, or would be willing to do, as a basis for morality. As argued above, Kant points out that if something is objectively right, it is irrelevant if we wish for or like it or not. The UCI only implies what is objectively right, insists Kant. Wishing to be helped sometimes is irrelevant here. Besides, even if a rational being as such, namely as in a computer, could wish, why would it wish to exist or survive? These issues are discussed further, later.

[51] Shortly, in another footnote, a problem regarding this prioritising is discussed.

[52] A specific definition of ‘innocent’ would be needed. I’ll ignore the problems here.

[53] This prioritising, this reversal of what Kant advocated, would also occur if one interpretation of the criterion for what Kant calls ‘positive laws’ was given priority over the criterion for what Kant calls ‘negative laws’. Here, consider a rational being which also has a (human?) nature which unavoidably wishes to help protect innocents, along with and via self-consistently wishing itself to be so protected. This being could not will the universalisation of a maxim such as ‘Never lie’ here, because doing so would contradict its nature (that wish). So, here, ‘Never lie’ would be overruled. As argued above (and below), there seems no epistemic justification for Kant giving one criterion or alleged type of law priority over another. Yet, if so, there would still be conflict in practice, over which to give priority, and whether the priority is absolute, or relative to different situations. Kant could still give no epistemic justification for one choice here rather than the other.

[54] E.g., Kant says “[With a wide, i.e., imperfect, duty] the law ... leaves a playroom for free choice ..., the law cannot specify precisely in what way one is to act and how much one is to do .... But a wide duty is not to be taken as permission to make exceptions ... but only as permission to limit one ... duty by another (e.g., love of one’s neighbour in general by love of one’s parents).” Metaphysics of Morals AK (RPA) 6:390. Gregor (ed & transl) p 152 . Also: “[One] ought to sacrifice a part of [one’s] welfare to others ... [but how] far [this sacrifice] should extend depends, in large part, on what each person’s true needs are in view of his sensibilities, and it must be left to each to decide this for himself ... [regarding] this duty[,which] ... is only a wide one.” (Here Kant recognises the area/maxim problem, but gives no clear solution.) In sum, Kant says we are not to perform an imperfect duty in every relevant situation, i.e., universally. E.g., even though it is universally the case that one could help someone else, Kant says one need not help others in every situation where they need help, because one is sometimes also obliged to fulfil one’s imperfect duty to do things just for oneself. And vice versa. We often cannot perform two such duties universally: they would conflict. Further here, it is highly problematic to know what “each person’s true needs are”. This is only resolvable via having a single, epistemically justifiable end, because there are certain things which are true needs in relation to achieving such an end: everything which is justifiable except that end would be a means to that end. Otherwise, persons can conflict regarding what they believe are true (justifiable) needs. E.g., each of many conflicting religions tends to see belief in and support for itself, and disbelief in and opposition to other religions, as true needs. A ‘need’ is a need for something, X, and a need for X is relative to the end, X, or to some further end because X helps achieve that end. X is only a need from a perspective involving an end. Kant gives no epistemically justifiable end here (or anywhere). E.g., humans need food in order to survive, but Kant gives no coherent, epistemic justification for the survival of all, or any, humans.

[55] This point assumes that Kant says laws imply duties, i.e., that imperfect duties are not in an area separate from lawful acts. (Such separation would involve the just-mentioned area-problems.) However, the UCI says ‘Act only on a maxim you can will to be a universal law’, and Kant restates this as “I am never to act otherwise than so that I could also will that my maxim should become a universal law”. (My emphases.) (Groundwork, RPAp 402). So, there is no intended act not covered by a law. And Kant says we ought to do dutiful acts. All justified acts then, are lawful, says Kant. Duties, which, as Kant says, are inherently justifiable acts, must be implied by a law, for Kant. Otherwise, Kant would not see duties as justifiable: they’d not be duties. Kant says duties are implied by laws. E.g., ‘Never lie’ implies a duty to never lie.

[56] Kant says the basis for distinguishing perfect from imperfect duties derives from the (alleged) fact that negative laws imply perfect duties, and positive laws imply imperfect duties. Allegedly:- Perfect duties are those where we cannot conceive of a universalisable maxim which contradicts the duty. E.g., we cannot conceive of or correctly imagine universal lying. Imperfect duties, he says, are those where a maxim contradicting the duty can be conceived of as being universally done — but the nature of rational beings would be contradicted if the duty was not fulfilled. E.g., humans could universally obey ‘Be unhelpful to others’, but, Kant says, it is the nature of a rational being to sometimes need help — and any rational being would obey ‘Help others’ because the being would wish to be helped when the being needed it; and so on.
I’ve discussed the problems here above, arguing that Kant’s basis for distinguishing between perfect and imperfect duties is too problematic. Besides, the present discussion relates them to universal applicability, which Kant stresses is the defining nature of all laws. Hence all duties, which Kant says are directly implied by laws, (as in the (alleged) law, ‘Never lie’, implying the duty, ‘Never lie’,) should be universally applied (obeyed). The discussion also fits with the UCI, which he says is the most general categorical imperative. This means the UCI’s criterion of universal applicability would apply to both perfect and imperfect duties. So both should be universally applicable, period.

Further, Kant’s distinction between perfect duties and imperfect duties involves him giving priority to perfect duties. So, allegedly, in a potential conflict between a perfect and an imperfect duty, the perfect should be done. But this prioritising seems ad hoc, a mere assertion, without evidence. With this, any alleged negative law can be expressed positively, as in ‘Never lie’ being expressed as ‘Always be truthful’. This makes it a positive law, like ‘Be helpful’ or ‘Protect innocent lives’. So any priority given to a negative law and implied duty over a positive law and implied duty, i.e., the perfect over the imperfect, due to the alleged negativity, disappears.
Also, if perfect and imperfect duties are implied by laws, namely morality’s equivalent to laws of nature, then to claim that one type of law and hence duty, e.g., an alleged negative type, has priority over another, is to contradict how laws of nature work. In nature, one law, say the law of friction, does not step aside and allow some other law(s) to have priority and be the only one(s) applicable. If nature’s laws worked thus, then, e.g., the law of friction, which describes how brakes stop a car, would sometimes not apply. Then, via the laws of motion, cars would propel us unstoppably forward. In sum, according to a fundamental notion in Kant’s theory, a claim that one type of law has priority over and should/can replace another is merely a claim — without evidence. All the evidence there is suggests otherwise.

[57] Kant says we have a duty to perfect “any capacities whatever”. Gregor (transl & ed) Metaphysics of Morals. p 154-5. AK 6:391-3. To get them all perfect seems a full-time (universally applicable) task.

[58] I’ll argue that, to the degree that human knowledge is incomplete, to that degree we’ll have unavoidable problems deciding a justified balance among actions in any (sub-)area. E.g., suppose ‘Eat only a balanced, healthy diet’ is justified. Present dietary knowledge and related health knowledge cannot tell each person the precise balance among proteins, carbohydrates, water, vitamins, fibre etc which they should eat at each meal. However, here we can have approximate knowledge, or get close enough to the truth, so that we have sufficiently practicable knowledge to normally keep people reasonably healthy. In many areas we can have such sufficiently practicable knowledge — and learn more.

[59] Groundwork RPAp 436. (‘RPAp’ means ‘Royal Prussian Academy page’)

[60] Kant’s rational beings as such could inherently only be motivated to achieve an end which is or is equivalent to a rational principle. Kant’s rational principle here is the UCI. This is insufficiently motivating for humans, so something equivalent but more motivating is needed, he suggests.

[61] Groundwork RPAp 427-430. Note that this law is expressed in a way which is both positive and negative. It can also be expressed as ‘Never treat persons merely as a means; always treat them (also) as an end.’. This positive-negative mix and reversibility is another example of certain problems discussed above (and in the Appendix), e.g., regarding Kant insisting there are only two types of laws, one positive, one negative.

[62] ‘Always treat persons as ends, never merely as a means’ would be just part of what the UCI implies, namely an imperfect duty, according to one interpretation of Kant’s criterion for a positive law and hence imperfect duty. If a rational being also has a nature which involves it not wishing to be treated merely as a means, this being could not will the opposite of that maxim because doing so would contradict its nature. Yet, if it is an imperfect duty, the ‘always’ and ‘never’ have to go, says Kant, because imperfect duties are flexible, not applying universally. So this would be further problematic. And, if that imperfect duty is equivalent to the UCI, this would mean that either the UCI would have to stop applying universally, or this imperfect duty would have to apply universally and hence become a perfect duty.

[63] Groundwork RPAp 436.

[64] Groundwork RPAp 460-61

[65] Kant claims that humans have a unique emotion, a respect for rationality. See, e.g., Groundwork RPAp 400. Later, when dealing with a different issue, I’ll imply that this claim is correct, with qualifications.

[66] Groundwork, RPAp 428-9

[67] E.g., to always act on ‘Never lie’ is to achieve perfect truthfulness.

[68] Such characteristics tend to be aspects of common morality. So the present point can be seen as using a moral argument against Kant’s moral argument here. This implies that Kant’s argument is epistemically questionable in that an opposing argument, which is also from a moral standpoint, is more or less as plausible or appealing as Kant’s. This would be problematic. However, later I’ll argue that such characteristics can be advocated by an epistemically justifiable practical theory.

[69] E.g., Groundwork, RPAp 393-4 and 397-401.

[70] If ‘person’ is defined as a rational being as such, or only the rational aspect of a human, recent points show this would also be too problematic.

[71] In that we can know anything, including that oneself exists, we are rational and hence at least implicitly necessarily conceive of ourselves as rational. Yet this does not mean we also necessarily conceive of ourselves as ends-in-ourselves.

[72] Kant sees such statements as ‘merely empirical’, i.e., based on the observable. He contrasts the empirically objective with what he sees as the objective according to pure practical reason, which ignores the empirical. (‘1+2=3’ and the formal principle of non-contradiction, ‘Not both X and not-X’, are types of pure reasoning. So is the UCI.) Kant says that pure reason is what’s needed to discover the true or objective morality. He says empirical objectivity merely shows us what we do, but pure reason shows us what we should do (i.e., via the UCI). However, Kant’s claim that all rational beings necessarily conceive of themselves as ends-in-themselves is the claim that they do necessarily conceive of themselves as ends-in-themselves. So it is equivalent to an empirical claim. Besides, Kant suggests that self-observation is needed to show us what we do as purely rational beings; and self-observation is plausibly a type of empirical objectivity, because observation is the basis of empirical objectivity. Further, much of the above concerning Kant seems to show that pure practical reason, involving only the formal, as in the UCI, cannot unambiguously or epistemically justifiably show us what we should do. In sum, Kant’s concepts here seem confused.

[73] ‘Merely’ tends to have a negative connotation. ‘Only’ can avoid this.

[74] Groundwork, RPAp 423

[75] Kant defines an imperfect duty as the type of duty implied by a positive law, and he defines a law as a rule valid for all rational beings, not just for human beings. This means that notions such as ‘A human would wish to be helped, when needed’ are not part of Kant’s definition of an imperfect duty. Hence those concepts are sneaked in. Similarly:- He says that a positive law and hence imperfect duty are defined by the maxim opposite to the law being conceivable and universalisable, but that universalising the opposite maxim would contradict the nature of a rational being. Humans, with their dependence on help, do not fit the definition of rational beings as such. Besides, again, Kant’s definition of a positive law, with its implied alleged imperfect duty, as opposed to negative laws and implied perfect duties, seems ad hoc. Why shouldn’t all laws be of the same type? Kant stresses that moral laws are morality’s equivalent to nature’s laws, but there do not seem to be both positive and negative laws of nature, defined in a way equivalent to how Kant defines (alleged) positive and negative moral laws and associated duties.

[76] E.g., Groundwork, RPAp 425

[77] This was discussed in a previous footnote in this chapter. Humans who are unconscious do not have a rational aspect while unconscious.

[78] The only type of moral theory escaping this problem is one which states all persons ought to die, e.g., leaving non-human life-forms to run the planet better.

[79] Positively, freedom means freedom to do something. Negatively, freedom means freedom from something. In practice, the negative and positive go together, like two sides of a coin. E.g., suppose, when Fred turns 18, he becomes free from the legal restrictions on drinking alcohol when under 18. This means Fred is now free to legally drink alcohol.

[80] Groundwork RPAp 446-7

[81] Such points are made by Thomas Nagel, Cohen and others. See, e.g., Cohen, G.A. (1996) “Reason, Humanity And The Moral Law” in Korsgaard, C (1996) The Sources Of Normativity. Cambridge University Press (Paperback edition.) 167-188 and Nagel, T (1996) “Universality And The Reflective Self” in the same book, pp 200-209

[82] Groundwork RPAp 447

[83] In a discussion in the Kant Reading Group, Adelaide University, 2003.

[84] See, e.g., work by Christine Korsgaard and Onora O’Neill. Works by them and other modern Kantians or neo-Kantians are in the References.

[85] A specific scientific practice aims at discovering truths about something, e.g., about fruit-growing or bomb-making. The specific end of a commercial or political director of the research here is, say, truths regarding how to grow more fruit or kill more people. Yet in that the science as such here is inherently aiming to be epistemically justifiable as such, science’s end or aim is knowledge, as opposed to the ends of different commercial, political etc directors of scientific research. Truth or knowledge as such is the universal, general end at which all scientific enterprises inherently aim. If we abstract from all the specific contents of each confirmed scientific theory, namely truths regarding fruits, bombs, planets, diseases and so on, we are left with the notion, ‘truth as such’. (Note that this is rather different from Kant’s claim, discussed in Part I, that if we abstract from the contents of all scientific laws, we are only left with the form ‘universal applicability, and, with this, non-contradiction’. I’ll argue that the former abstracting includes but goes significantly beyond Kant’s, taking us to an epistemically justifiable practical theory.)

[86] Here lies one of the recently-mentioned problems regarding the specifics of this very abstract discussion: specifically which truths should one aim at or practise? Again, this problem is dealt with soon, when the context for doing so has been better developed.

[87] This is obvious to us, but not to all through history. Bertrand Russell tells a story something like the following:- A priest, centuries ago, was asked to observe the number of planets visible through a recent invention, a telescope. He refused, stating there is no need to observe in order to discover the truth, because the Bible says there are seven (a holy or special number, according to the Bible). The telescope could show there were at least eight.

[88] A reminder: ‘UCI’ is short for the ‘universalisability version of Kant’s alleged categorical imperative’, namely ‘Act only on a maxim you can at the same time will to be a universal law’.

[89] Namely the UCI’s interrelated notions of non-contradiction and universal applicability of laws as in science. Part I shows that Kant’s allegedly equivalent more specific versions of the UCI are not a significant increase in helpfulness here.

[90] A reminder of an example or analogy from Part I, from within science:- Centuries ago, the view that Earth orbited the sun was somewhat epistemically justifiable in that observation was used as apparent evidence: observation, as opposed to not observing, has at least the potential to provide the sufficient evidence needed for epistemic justification here. Yet that view was too narrow. It was not fully epistemically justifiable in that the needed overall view was missing. With this, the observation that the sun appears to orbit Earth contradicted the truth, the epistemically justifiable, because the observation was made from a viewpoint on what was falsely believed (not observed) to be a stationary Earth. The overall view involves observing that Earth is not stationary, and hence that the narrow view is not as epistemically justifiable as possible and contradicts the overall, sufficient evidence. Only the overall view can know that the narrow view needs to be ruled out; not vice versa.

[91] E.g., in a court case, one witness can contradict another; but if they agree, their testimonies are in harmony.

[92] In a contradictory relationship between two things, one negates or has a negative relationship with the other. Regarding statements, one says the other is not the case. Regarding events, one causes the other to stop or not happen.
It is not anti-truth truths (statements) as such which contradict pro-truth truths (statements). (As argued further below, no practicable truths or true statements contradict each other.) It is the learning or practising of one type of knowledge which can causally contradict someone’s ability, motivation or opportunity to learn or practise another type. E.g., if Vince practices his knowledge of how to kill on Harriet, who is his pro-truth teacher, this murder contradicts (negates) Harriet’s ability to practise her pro-truth educating. He has caused her to stop being pro-truth. It is Vince’s practising of ‘truths about how to kill’ which made the truths or knowledge anti-truth here. We can use the same truths to know how to not kill pro-truth persons. Here those truths would be pro-truth. A crucial pro-truth truth is that, to be optimally pro-truth, we need to learn and practise only pro-truth truths. The general issues here are discussed further soon.

[93] The previous footnote shows that, instead of the term ‘pro-truth truth’, it would be more accurate to use ‘potentially pro-truth truth’. The next paragraph in the main body makes this explicit. However, the notion, ‘potentially’, will normally remain implicit below, as it is obvious and terms such as ‘potentially pro-(or anti- or a-)truth truth’ are long and clumsy. If a person learns something which is for them a pro-truth truth, this means it is not just a potential pro-truth truth for them. It means they actually put it into practice to achieve something pro-truth.

[94] Decades ago, in a book the name and author of which I’ve forgotten, it was explained that the notions ‘motivation, ability and opportunity’ cover everything needed for a human to achieve something. The explanation was something like this:- Bill is at a pool, and is motivated to swim, but cannot now do so because he has no ability to swim. Meredith, a good swimmer, is at the pool but is not motivated to swim now, so she doesn’t. Fiona, a good swimmer, would love a swim now, but cannot because she has no opportunity — due to being kilometres from any water. So, the event, ‘swimming now’, is not achieved by any of the three.

[95] This refers to beings on Earth. There may be aliens who are better.

[96] Intentionally curing diseases in pro-truth persons is obviously pro-truth. The medical knowledge here is pro-truth because it is directly intended to be used in a pro-truth way. Bottle-top knowledge is not. However, we could imagine highly unlikely situations where bottle-top knowledge is, by chance only, directed in a pro-truth way. Suppose Erica can win a million dollars if she has expert knowledge in a trivia quiz, and the topic just happens to be bottle-top decorations. Suppose Erica happens to be a bottle-top expert, and will give any winnings to research into a disease she has and wants cured. The resulting medical knowledge will, unknown to Erica, also cure diseases in pro-truth persons. Her bottle-top knowledge would here be unintentionally pro-truth, but not for her. It would only be pro-truth knowledge for thereby-cured pro-truth persons and their curers. In the rest of the discussion I’ll ignore such possible coincidences.

[97] An abstract notion can cover contradictory specifics, as explained recently regarding ‘freedom’. Here, ‘general’ means a notion covering non-conflicting specifics. This will become clearer below.

[98] Any such certain quantity and/or quality might be a certain range, rather than a single, precise amount. E.g., it would be anti-truth to say that the optimal pro-truth age of persons is precisely, say, 32 years old. It is pro-truth to realise that humans need a population with a range of ages, to be optimally pro-truth. E.g., in order for anyone to get to be 32, they need to have been younger, and been cared for by older persons. Regarding intellectual achievement, in maths the optimal age seems young, perhaps around 20-25, but in much broader or multi-disciplinary areas, e.g., philosophy, the average age of greatest achievement is quite old. To acquire wisdom takes a long time, a large range of years. And so on, e.g., regarding diet, any amount of X between, say, 30 and 50 units, could be as pro-truth as any other amount in that range, in some situations.

[99] A word such as ‘can’ is used in such sentences because sometimes there is situational relativity. This is discussed often later. For now, a brief example:- Age can be a-truth, but suppose that Sally is 20 years old and Jim is 60, and both have a fatal but curable disease which will kill within a month, unless treated. Due to limited medical resources, only one can be cured. Suppose, as far as we can tell, that both have equal ability to discover and practise the same quantity and quality of pro-truth truth, each future year. Yet Sally probably has about 60 future years, and Jim only 15. Here, if ‘one’s age’ means ‘probably Y years before one’s death’, then age is not a-truth. It would be pro-truth to discriminate in favour of Sally, and give her the only cure. If Jim was truly pro-truth, he would impartially accept this.

It is important to note that pro-truth situational relativity only means that, in different situations, different means may be optimal regarding achieving the single ultimate, primary end. That is, the end does not change. There is no relativity regarding the end. Only the means to that end change. As an analogy, suppose we always aim at the single end, ‘Feeling comfortably warm’. In freezing weather the best means to that end might be wearing three layers of clothing; in a moderately cold situation two layers may be best; on a very warm day nakedness may be the best means to achieve that end.

[100] Such points are expanded on later. This discussion is only preliminary.

[101] Even one of Kant’s purely rational beings must have some aspects other than rationality. As a perfectly rational being could not have any anti-rational aspects, those aspects must be a-rational. A computer has to have some colour, shape and so on, and if such aspects don’t affect the computer’s ability to be rational, they are a-rational. This argument can be applied to any perfectly pro-truth, non-human being.

[102] A duty is something one ought to do, regardless of whether one feels like doing it. A permitted act is merely an act one may do if, e.g., one feels like it. It is not something one ought to do.

[103] Again, this is a simplified example. Qualifications may be needed. E.g., suppose that, somehow, all of one sex turned homosexual and would not help with reproduction. As humanity would die out, the potentially most pro-truth species on Earth would no longer be able to do any pro-truth things. Here, sexuality would be anti-truth, not a-truth. Or, suppose all of one sex died, and so could not help reproduce. It would be anti-truth to have just one gender. In that sense, gender would not be a-truth. This case of situational relativity is discussed further, e.g., in Part II, Chapter 3, Section 5.

[104] Here, again, there is situational relativity. E.g., suppose there is one nation, N1, far more pro-truth than another, N2, and able to influence N2 to become more pro-truth, though N1 needs more resources than N2 if that change is to occur. Temporarily, here it is justified for N1 to have more resources than N2. When N2 changes, a pro-truth equitable sharing is just(ified). What is epistemically justifiably fair or just changes relative to whether this or that situation is the more pro-truth.

[105] This book concerns epistemically justifiable practices, i.e., the practicable. With this, as mentioned in Part I, practicable knowledge or practicable truth is the focus. There are areas where what is said by some experts to be knowledge concerns the apparently impracticable. E.g., quantum mechanics and black holes seem at least somewhat problematic here. And, as process physics suggests, an underlying randomness may have been involved in producing that which is practicable for us. But, because this book concerns practicable knowledge, any such for-us-impracticable randomness does not matter. And, practicable knowledge needs to be distinguished from purely theoretical issues underlying events of which we have practicable knowledge. Hilary Putnam discusses how there can be apparently equally meaningful but conflicting views concerning the fundamental or metaphysical nature of matter. (E.g., see Putnam, H (1993) “Objectivity And The Science-Ethics Distinction” in The Quality Of Life, edited by Nussbaum, M and Sen, A. Oxford. Clarendon Press.) E.g., is a rock fundamentally solid, or non-solid (space with occasional sub-atomic particles, or events), i.e., molecules? It is impracticable for us to understand enough to know that, of such views, view V1 is the fundamental truth and V2 is not, or that both are (the?) fundamental truth(s). However, regardless of whether something, e.g., a rock, has this or that ultimate or metaphysical nature, we can still reliably make walls with certain rocks, via in-practice viewing rocks as solid, big (enough), enduring objects; and we can still reliably make medically-useful things with the same rocks, via in-practice viewing them as non-solid, i.e., consisting mostly of empty space interspersed with tiny objects, i.e., sub-atomic particles, some of which involve medically-useful, non-enduring radio-active isotopes. And so on. In sum, regarding practicable knowledge, we can forget about any such metaphysical or fundamental purely-theoretical issues. And so on, regarding everything in our practicable universe. (For us, as argued below, there is only one practicable universe — though there might be impracticable multiverses.) Due to the focus of this book, and its intended main audience, the issues mentioned in this footnote are only discussed occasionally.

[106] Knowledge is of course inherently epistemically justified. Part I’s discussion of this, and the present discussions, show that there cannot be directly epistemically un-justifiable knowledge.

[107] There may be a better candidate. If so, it will be an even better solution regarding a justifiable guide to how one should live. Hence I would welcome it.

[108] A reminder: ‘UCI’ is short for the ‘universalisability version of Kant’s alleged categorical imperative’, namely ‘Act only on a maxim you can at the same time will to be a universal law’.

[109] Quine, W.V. & Ullian, J.S. (1978) The Web Of Belief. (2nd ed) New York. Random House

[110] See Whewell, W (1968) William Whewell’s Theory of Scientific Method, Butts, R (ed). Pittsburgh. University of Pittsburgh Press. Suzi Roux’s (Flinders University, South Australia) work on Whewell helped me realise how well some of Whewell’s ideas fit with pro-truth theory. (‘Consilience’ may seem misspelt. Whewell made up new words.)

[111] The term ‘universally’ makes the term ‘as-a-whole’ redundant in some contexts. I only include it here to emphasise that the discussion takes an overall view of practicable truth. This holistic view is required by epistemic rationality for various reasons. One is that anything less than an overall view of an issue can miss something relevant to our arriving at the truth. E.g., if we only look at the sun apparently moving round us on an apparently still Earth, we can easily falsely believe the sun orbits Earth.

[112] See, e.g., Feyerabend, P (1988) "Against Method" 2nd ed. London. Verso.

[113] Such authors’ works are mentioned in the References.

[114] It is impracticable here to do anything more epistemically justifiable than this, namely via us knowing ultimate truths concerning nature independently of our present knowledge of nature as acquired via the present state of science. Similarly, it is impracticable for us to now have the hindsight concerning present science which might show us that present science has unknown-of errors. We cannot simultaneously be both in the present and the future, to know now what we do not know now. So, in that the impracticable is epistemically unjustifiable, it is unjustifiable to make certain criticisms of science which could be suggested by, e.g., B. Kyle Standford’s “Pyrrhic Victories for Scientific Realism”, J. Philosophy, vol C. 11. Nov 2003. pp 553-572. The ‘pessimistic induction’ discussed there could suggest the criticism that, because various past theories were faulty, modern theories are (or are likely to be) faulty. (Many very old theories, e.g., concerning levers, were not faulty in that they are still precisely practicable. Does induction from such successes suggest that other, modern theories are not (likely to be) faulty? And, to consistently practise completely pessimistic induction, one would not rely on food for sustenance, on air for breathing, on computers or pens for writing about pessimistic induction, and so on. One would do nothing practicable, i.e., nothing. One would be dead or unconscious.) That main point concerning pessimistic induction can be adapted to apply to a criticism stating that present theories claiming to be realist are or could be like various past theories which did not fully understand or properly refer to the real specific fundamental or ontological nature of the basics of nature. If a theory is sufficiently practicable, such criticisms miss their mark regarding a book concerned with the practicable. E.g., Lavoisier’s theory that heat is caused by a subtle caloric fluid has been replaced by a highly practicable theory stating that increasing the degree of molecular motion causes correspondingly increased degrees of heat. There may be something more real or fundamental, underlying such practicable notions as ‘increasing molecular motion’. But this is a purely theoretical or metaphysical issue compared to the issue of practicability. We need not concern ourselves with such issues for the practical purpose of increasing heat. As far as practicable knowledge is concerned, the increasing molecular motion theory refers to a sufficiently real cause of increasing heat. We can cause a fire by rubbing certain sticks together.

[115] All who successfully implement their intentions use at least simple science. E.g., to talk, or read this book, we use laws of physiology, psychology and physics; to open a book or a hinged door or chew food we use the simple scientific principle of leverage; to walk we use scientific principles of physics, e.g., concerning balance and centre of gravity. We can do nothing intentionally without using scientific principles. (Skeptics of science do such things and are hence self-contradictory.)

[116] As will become clear, such standards are specific standards coming under the one, fundamental, general standard.

[117] Chalmers, Alan F (1982) What Is This Thing Called Science? University of Queensland Press. p127

[118] Similarly, ideas or observational standards in anthropology can be applied to genetics, and vice versa, giving us new knowledge. E.g:- Geneticists were investigating why a particular nerve disease spread much faster in one native tribe than anywhere else. Normally, only women got the disease. So some geneticists thought a sex-linked geographically-isolated gene played an important role. By only applying the ideas of genetics as it was at that stage, this theory seemed plausible. It was wrong, because this was an insufficiently overall theory. Later, anthropology applied its ideas to the issue, giving the right answer, giving us a wider and more accurate science. Anthropologists observed that the custom in this tribe was to eat dead relatives. It was observed that women normally ate the brains, the best way to get the nerve disease.

[119] As will become clear, I’m not saying that supporting scientists is the only justifiable, ultimate, pro-truth aim for all persons. Far from it.

[120] He can be interpreted as showing that harmony is the case here. His notion of ‘consilience’ is very similar. I use his work because he seems to deserve more recognition. See Whewell, W (1968) William Whewell’s Theory of Scientific Method, Butts, R (ed). Pittsburgh. University of Pittsburgh Press; and Whewell’s Inductive Table of Astronomy in William Whewell (1840), Philosophy Of The Inductive Sciences

[121] E.g., with gravity, the fundamental effect (according to Newton) is attraction proportional to the masses of the bodies concerned and, inversely, to the square of the distance between them. This explains the above stones dropping, tides rising, and so on, along with other explanatory notions, e.g., for orbiting planets, the laws of motion and inertia.

[122] See, e.g., Fodor, J (1983) The Modularity of Mind Cambridge Massachusetts. MIT Press.

[123] A reminder: U H/I E/T is short for ‘universally, there is either harmony or irrelevance regarding epistemic justifiability or practicable truth as-a-whole’.

[124] That is, such harmony exists as far as it is practicable for us to know. And this book focuses on the practicable. Problems such as the first cause and induction involve issues it is not practicable to solve or understand. It is not practicable to understand the first cause of the universe, or whether there was a first cause. Some aspect of any first cause might not harmonise with the thereby-caused practicable harmony over time we observe. And the laws of physics may have been quite different long before it became practicable for us to exist and begin to grasp them and observe harmony over time; or there may have been no or fewer laws. (The next paragraph in this footnote can be applied to those possibilities.) Regarding induction since such distant possibilities/times, the only evidence we have that the future will be like the past is evidence concerning the past, not the future. It is impracticable to precisely know the future, for all time (or whether time will continue, or what the thing we experience as ‘time’ fundamentally is, apart from that experience).

Yet, as far as it is practicable for us to know, i.e., judging on what is for us practicable past evidence, universal harmonious operation of the laws of nature across time will continue to be the case. Regarding any law universally ceasing to apply, the U H in U H/I E/T will be the case for us until that happens, namely as long as we exist:- Here, we humans could only ever find evidence for that continuing harmony because, if just one of the fundamental laws universally ceased to operate as it has done during human existence, we would quickly cease to exist. That is, each force described by a fundamental law is crucial in maintaining our existence. E.g., if the laws describing the forces holding molecules together ceased to be laws, our bodies would cease to exist. Similarly, our planet would cease to exist if any of the other fundamental forces of nature, e.g., gravity, ceased to lawfully operate. So we could never (be alive to) find evidence against the harmonious nature of the laws involved in it being practicable for us to reliably do things, including staying alive. In that sense, for us, there is no problem of induction. It is a purely theoretical problem, not an issue concerning what is for us practicable truth. (Another possible end to U H here would be via laws erratically changing, e.g., applying only in some places at some times, unpredictably. Here some of us could keep living, until in the wrong place at the wrong time. Till then there would be a problem of induction regarding what is practicable for us.)

[125] Unlike with Kant’s insoluble area/maxim borderline problem, there are clear borders here. E.g., colour’s irrelevance regarding gravity shows that the colour area is quite separate from the gravity area. This chapter increasingly shows that the epistemic standard, U H/I E/T, lacks the major problems Kant’s standard has, and which moral standards or concepts have.

[126] The probable or approximate nature of some events, allegedly involving probabilistic or approximate laws, is explainable via recent points concerning opposition and co-operation. E.g., suppose a bacterial disease affects about sixty percent of persons in each situation of a certain type. This is not because a single medical law only applies approximately sixty percent rather than universally, namely one hundred percent. It is because, say, about forty percent of people are immune to the bacteria. Their immune systems successfully oppose the bacteria, just like one’s leg muscles can successfully oppose the force (not the law) of gravity which in the absence of leg-muscles would cause us to collapse downwards. Similarly for probabilities in coin-tossing and so on. (The general explanatory notion here may also help explain at least some of any apparently impracticable issues.)

[127] E.g., the chemical and physical forces involved in the event, ‘Our experiencing colour on a basketball’, are irrelevant here regarding the force of gravity operating on the ball.

[128] Thinking is a human activity, something we do. In that sense it too is a practice. Still, there are obviously important differences between thinking and a publicly observable practice.

[129] Socrates said an unexamined life is not worth living. This applies here, and can be re-interpreted as: ‘An unexamined or too-narrow view of epistemic justifiability means a life which is not epistemically justifiable.’

[130] It is also the (narrowly-applicable) standard regarding anti-truth and a-truth truths as such, but that is beside the point here. Regarding learning and practising anti-truth truths:- There is no truth stating anything like ‘Learning and/or practising anti-truth truths is epistemically justifiable because doing so increases or maintains (the existence of) knowledge’, because any such statement is untrue. As explained before, the truth here is that learning and/or practising anti-truth truths is epistemically unjustifiable in that it negates (the existence of) knowledge. So U H/I E/T is not the standard involved in any such statement, or in such learning and practising.

[131] It can be a-truth to learn and practise certain truths. This is justifiably permitted, as opposed to being epistemically justifiable or a duty. The general issue here is discussed later.

[132] I’ve been to such a hill, in the state of Victoria (I think), Australia.

[133] As with the elephant parable, and seeing a stick apparently bent by water being known, via an overall view, to be an observation of refraction.

[134] That is, as far as it is practicable to know, i.e., judging on past evidence. And, again, this book’s theory concerns the practicable, not the impracticable. Besides, as suggested by a footnote above, it would probably be the case that we could only ever find evidence supporting the law of gravity because, if gravity stopped operating, perhaps along with other laws of nature, this would stop the force that now holds us on Earth, and is crucial regarding holding Earth together, and in orbit round the sun — and stop a force crucial in holding our bodies together. If the laws cease to operate, we would quickly cease to exist. So, we could only ever find evidence supporting the laws of nature, because without those laws there’d be no ‘we’.

[135] E.g., as suggested by the footnote in Part II, Chapter 1, Section 3, discussing possible multiverses.

[136] See the References.

[137] Recent footnotes concerning induction suggest this.

[138] E.g., in Critique Of Practical Reason Great, Books Of The Western World, p 329, he says we need to “be able to discern the unity of the whole faculty of reason (theoretical as well as practical) and ... derive all from one principle, which ... reason inevitably demands, ... [achieving] a perfectly systematic unity.”

[139] He suggests our perception might pre-consciously filter out anything which would mean there is not a systematic practicable unity (as in U H/I E/T). If so, the filtered-out things, which would contradict U H/I E/T, are inaccessible to us, and hence meaningless. It would be impossible for us to know of them. And so it would be impossible or impracticable for us to know of contradictions within practicable knowledge as a whole.

[140] As mentioned in Part I, later I’ll argue that we can epistemically justify many of the prescriptions advocated by moral theories. ‘Never murder persons’ is one.

[141] In a sense, that preface relates to something trivial, namely the fact that ‘It is true that X’ can involve an X which is either true or false or untestable. So here the ‘It is true’ tells us nothing important, namely about what actually is true. E.g., Tamara might mistakenly believe it is Sunday. Pro-truth theory recognises this issue, because it inherently recognises it is important to actually have the (pro-truth) truth, not false or untestable beliefs. However, in another sense, that prefacing is important regarding a point supplementing the above justification. This point shows that we are all unavoidably, necessarily, at least implicitly presuppositionally (or prefacingly) pro-truth, and that, hence, in a sense being pro-truth is an absolute for us, as discussed further soon. It is important that in all our serious statements we intend to state the truth, and are hence pro-truth. Still, that point is not crucial regarding justifying an epistemically justifiable theory. An epistemically justifiable standard, and theory based thereon, is inherently epistemically justified. Previous sections’ justificatory arguments here are sufficient.

[142] Here, ‘truth’ of course means ‘that which I believe (with no epistemic justification) to be the truth’

[143] If there is no truth, nothing can be pro- the truth.

[144] ‘Possible’ here refers to knowledge and any methods we might not yet possess, but which we could eventually acquire. People once lacked modern statistical epistemic methods, but had the capacity to learn them.

[145] More precisely:- Within our mental universe we can externally epistemically justifiably assess things, via a high level of thought using an epistemic standard to reflect on and assess a thought at a lower level. E.g., Jack can use the arithmetic standard ‘1=1’ or ‘X is X’ to assess whether his sum, ‘30+60=90’, is correct, as explained in Part II, Chapter 1, Section 3. Via being at a different, higher, assessing level within Jack’s mind, his reflective level is external to the lower, assessed level. Via a similar process:- Within our possible mental universe we can use our methods of assessing epistemic justifiability, e.g., to discover that Newton’s physics is only reliable in certain areas Within our possible mental universe we can also improve those methods, e.g., due to reflecting on Newton’s physics and finding that Newton is unreliable in some areas, we can be prompted to develop more refined observations and maths, to give us a more reliable or more overall accurate physics theory than Newton’s. We have done this. So our epistemic mental universe can grow, up to whatever is the possible (achievable) limit. Yet we cannot get outside of that possible maximum or any present epistemic mental universe to assess it from outside (or do this via being at a higher level of thought than our highest level). To do this would mean we have one brain or mind outside our entire brain or mind. This is equivalent to being outside of a room you are simultaneously entirely within.

[146] This relates to George Berkeley’s insight that the only evidence we have for the world outside our senses is what we experience inside our mind via our senses. All is internal to one’s mind. Ultimately one can never have external evidence that one’s senses or mental experiences are not illusions, and that there is a world outside what we think is sensory experience of an outside world. But, as indicated by arguments in this book, we can know there is no epistemic point in us worrying about such possibilities. As far as we can know, we can have what is for us practicable knowledge. It is impracticable to know whether everything is a delusion or illusion.
A version of something like Goedel’s theorem(s) might also apply here. The fundamental notions underlying what is for us practicable epistemic justifiability are just there, unable to be externally or independently proven, or prove themselves. This is like gravity seeming to be just there, fundamentally, a beginning point which can explain why many other things exist or happen, e.g., tides, but its own existence cannot be explained. Still, for us, as far as we can know, gravity is practicable — we use it, e.g., to stay on Earth.

[147] Quine, W.V. & Ullian, J.S. (1978) The Web Of Belief. (2nd ed) New York. Random House. P 11.

[148] If each plausible ‘is’ does imply an ‘ought’, this allows contradictory ‘oughts’ to be justified because there are conflicting plausible views concerning what ‘is’. E.g., it is the case that human nature, via evolution, tends to involve both competitiveness and co-operation. To live via the many conflicting alleged implications here would be too epistemically problematic, as argued above. This also applies to the other possibility regarding the is-ought issue, namely that people can correctly agree about what ‘is’, but conflict over which ‘ought’ this ‘is’ implies.

[149] More precisely, it is an absolute for any conscious human. It is not an absolute for us to be conscious. We can choose to be unconscious or dead.

[150] And this is a possible problem. E.g., in future, someone may discover true moral law(s) or something which disproves the main ideas of this book.

[151] E.g., Groundwork RPAp 451 and 452

[152] Theorists such as David Hume often see reason or rationality as, e.g., “the slave of the passions”. Here reason is said to exist only to achieve emotionally-valued ends, e.g., wealth or sex. Yet, in seeking the standard underlying knowledge or truth in general, I am discussing the epistemically justifiable as such, and hence (epistemic) rationality as such. Rationality as such has no purpose other than to be rational, i.e., seek truth. What a passion or person does with a truth discovered by reason is not an issue here. Any such truth is still a truth, a part of truth-as-a-whole, involving that standard. And that is the issue here.

[153] The issue here depends on how ‘rationality’ is defined. In Part I it was defined as involving an overall view which considers all the available evidence. There are problems here. E.g., we might not know when we have a sufficiently overall view, or what evidence there might be apart from that we know of. A simplified example:- If it is true that the only available evidence to most Medieval persons regarding the Earth’s shape was the apparent perception that they were on more or less flat ground, then, by one definition of ‘rational’, they were rational or epistemically justified if they believed the planet is flat. (But, as points above suggest, there was more available evidence — if they took a more careful, more overall view. E.g., Earth’s shadow on the moon during an eclipse showed that Earth was round.) (It can be rational or epistemically justifiable to suspend judgement until further evidence is available or noticed.)

[154] Such comments could seem to suggest that I developed pro-truth theory out of Kant’s theory. The theory could be developed from Kant’s. However, the basics were developed via studying history, long before I studied philosophy or knew of Kant. Similarly, much of this book involves science, but the theory originally primarily involved history, not science. Science is focused on here because, e.g., it is more obviously an exemplary epistemic enterprise, and is more widely seen as such.

[155] Here I’m referring to a type of democracy suited to making pro-truth decisions. There is another type, discussed later, appropriate for when there is a need to decide among persons’ different a-truth preferences.

[156] Points above imply a distinction between notions such as ‘optimal’ and ‘maximum’, and between ‘effort’ and ‘dedication’. E.g:- A person who starts off putting maximum effort every day into studying, digging or singing, is likely to soon exhaust or damage their concentration, muscles or vocal chords. This means they are likely to achieve less in the long-term than if they put in less effort and, instead , dedicated themselves moreso to rest and other activities, to optimally re-create their personal resources. The epistemically justifiable view is an overall view, namely one which takes the longest-term view. This overall view (knowledge) also sees that this footnote so far concerns a balance among practices, in relation to only a fraction (e.g., just digging) of what a person justifiably needs to do overall. Regarding such fractions or parts, the term ‘optimal (dedication)’ is appropriate. But regarding the practices or resources overall, or in one’s life as a whole, the term ‘maximum’ is appropriate in that, e.g., one has a justifiable duty to make the most of the available resources (in a balanced way), doing nothing else than being optimally pro-truth. (Those resources include needed rest, recreation and so on, which can involve a-truth preferences.) Nothing else is justifiable. It is only justifiable to put the maximum possible dedication into being optimally justifiable in the maximum possible areas. The U H in U H/I E/T implies this.

[157] A simple example:- Suppose Zoe knows Bill has always been kind to dogs, but she sees him apparently forcing a metal object down a dog’s throat, with the dog apparently thereby choking to death. Zoe could state, “Bill, you cruel swine, stop killing that dog. I’m going to kill you”, and then kill Bill. It would be more rational, more epistemically justifiable, to wait a few seconds and ask ,“Bill, what are you doing?”. Bill would then state the truth: “The poor dog is choking on a bone stuck in its throat. I’m breaking and removing the bone with these pliers.”

[158] However, I think that all such beliefs’ contents should be kept alive (though not believed), in that it seems overall pro-truth to show each generation that such beliefs are unjustifiable. My reasons for this are similar to those J.S. Mill suggests in On Liberty. E.g., it can be important (i) to “know thine (potential) enemy”, so as to be informed regarding how to defeat the possible future anti-truth enemy, and (ii) to not allow pro-truth knowledge to become merely unexamined, undefended beliefs, i.e., dogma or faith.

[159] E.g., the frontal cerebral (cognitive) cortex is linked with the limbic (emotional) system.

[160] A thing, e.g., an emotion, felt to be of intrinsic value is valued purely for its own sake. The intrinsically valuable is an end, or ultimate aim, not something valued merely as a means to some other end. Something which is a means to an end has only extrinsic value. E.g., Jenny, a boxer, may purposely get herself moderately angry before each fight, as a means to fight more determinedly and be more likely to win. After a win, she naturally feels elated and powerful, and finds these two emotions intrinsically valuable. For her, the anger is merely of extrinsic value in achieving that end. Similarly, Barbara believes that a certain type of art has intrinsic value. She keeps her collection of this art only to look at and enjoy, and would never sell it. By contrast, her husband believes her art should be sold, as its price has increased greatly, they are not rich, and he wants the money to renovate their house. For him, the art, or rich people’s desire to enjoy it, is a means to the end ‘money’, which is a means to his end, ‘renovation’. For him, renovation is of intrinsic value, but the art and money are only of extrinsic value.

[161] As Kant pointed out, to be of absolute or ultimate justifiability or value is to be of intrinsic value. Further:- The standard is of intrinsic epistemic justifiability or value because it is the only standard with overall epistemic justifiability. There is no justifiable substitute. The standard and end are essential or inherent or intrinsic to or within epistemic justifiability as a whole. And, because from an epistemically justifiable viewpoint that end is the only justifiable end, it cannot be of extrinsic value regarding any other justifiable end. So the pro-truth end and associated standard are alone of intrinsic justifiability or value. (Again, the only coherent meaning of ‘justifiable’ is ‘epistemically justifiable’.) Emotions can be felt or believed to be intrinsically valuable (justifiable); but only that primarily epistemic end is intrinsically valuable. However, I’ll argue that achieving this end involves some emotions felt to be intrinsically valuable, though the end’s epistemic aspect is primary.

[162] E.g., someone might feel annoyance at a loud noise made by a passing car, when trying to sleep. Such emotions tend not to be intrinsically valued. But they could be pro-truth. E.g., such annoyance may prompt the person, a student, to soundproof the room, resulting in a sleep improved enough to help the student learn pro-truth knowledge better.

[163] This was discussed in David Suzuki’s TV series, The Nature Of Things. In some orphanages, e.g., in late 20th century Romania, there was plenty of evidence for this. See also Shaw in the Psychology and Aging journal, March 2004. Similarly, consider the famous experiment where caged infant monkeys only had two types of substitute-mother as company:- Both types looked somewhat like a real mother. They were mostly wire mesh. One gave milk. The other gave no food but had a furry patch on its chest. The infants spent much more time cuddling the fur than with the food-provider. The human primate infant also has a deep need for hugging a (preferably real) carer. So, hugging and similar, along with real care and associated emotions, are crucial pro-truth needs for us, especially (but not only) when young. With this, pet dogs and similar can provide pro-truth therapy and company. They can be intrinsically valued things of pro-truth value.

[164] This type applies universally only to at least potentially pro-truth beings. E.g., it does not apply to bacteria which threaten the lives of at least potentially pro-truth beings. Similarly, unjustifiable benevolence includes benevolence to persons such as incurably psychopathic mass-murders, whose most-liked activity is murder, by benevolently never imprisoning them or similar, kindly letting them do what they like most.

[165] Here one’s frontal cortex controls those unjustifiable emotions, via the brain’s interconnections and the cognitive decision to do so. This decision can include effectively deciding to feel more benevolent. Such meditation was discussed on the Australian ABC TV show, The Big Picture: Primal Instincts, 8:30 pm, March 3, 2004.

[166] Some feminist and some masculinist commentators describe a cognitive-based theory as a ‘male thing’, and a caring-based theory as a ‘female thing’. Pro-truth theory suggests that such descriptions are not fully epistemically justifiable. Pro-truth theory interrelates the cognitive and emotional, and sees them as combinable in the same person, whether male or female.

[167] An overall view considers what is optimal on-average, long-term. Temporary deviations from that average could help the quantities or measurable qualities constituting that average be optimal. E.g., there would be a justifiable temporary need to work longer and sleep less during an emergency.

[168] As Hume pointed out, as discussed in Part I, Chapter 3, Section 1, our natural tendency here is to only feel fond of at least some persons in our ingroup, and feel indifferent, wary or hostile about others who we naturally see as outgroups. (Socialised views concerning who is an outgroup tend to be built on a natural basis.) Evolutionarily, one’s tribe was crucial regarding passing on one’s genes, and this was made more likely if other tribes were eliminated or dominated so they could not use scarce resources. (Hate is naturally helpful here.)

An ‘obligation’ is a duty which one does not enjoy. The most general term here, ‘duties’, can be divided into three types, negative, neutral and positive — respectively: 1) obligations, 2) duties we don’t mind performing, and 3) duties which are a pleasure. E.g., naturally, normal mothers on-average tend to find it a pleasurable duty to care for their babies. It is important to note that, as Kant, Hume and some psychologists point out, normally we can to a large degree (re)train at least many emotions. By conditioning or habituation, and/or via meditation, we can often come to enjoy a duty that we were originally emotionally neutral or negative about. Universal pro-truth benevolence can be(come) a pleasure.

[169] ‘Direct love’ is personal. It involves such things as hugging, sharing meals and talking with the loved ones. Indirect love is such things as sending aid to starving strangers on the other side of the world, people you will probably never meet in person.

[170] It is clearly impracticable to directly love all the six billion or so persons in the world.

[171] As suggested later, this does not mean, e.g., that a parent is justified in ensuring that the parent’s children get a bigger share of ‘non-emotional’ resources, e.g., toys and education, than is fair in relation to persons universally sharing resources in the most overall pro-truth way, i.e., world-wide. It only means that a parent’s own children, which includes any adopted children, have a pro-truth need to get most of the pro-truth emotional resources they need from those who most directly care for them, i.e., normally, parents. (If the parents die or similar, this would be other persons.)

This also does not mean that, if distant children lack direct carers, then adults distant from them who could provide that care need not bother. As all children have the right to such care, all able potential carers have a duty here. Circles need to be flexible, or open. E.g., unloved children in Joanne’s distant-circle can be adopted by her, becoming part of Joanne’s close-circle, becoming directly loved. This fits best with U H/I E/T.

[172] Helpful here would be a universal scheme of world-wide travel exchanges and similar — an expanded version of the ‘sister-city’ scheme practised by Australia, Japan and others.

[173] The optimal balance here, and elsewhere, would be achieved when each person (and hence the world) is as optimally pro-truth as possible, which involves each having access to the resources making this possible. The resources include a loving close-circle. The universal benevolence involves ensuring each has those resources. This is pro-truth fairness.

[174] The social aim is not universal harmony as such among persons. Universal harmony among persons could be achieved via all believing in some religion or fascist doctrine, which are inherently anti-truth.

[175] Having emotional experiences, and choosing to have them, are things we can do. In that sense, they are practices, and can be intended practices.

[176] Hume, D. (1968) Hume’s Moral And Political Philosophy. Edited by Aiken, H.D. New York. Hafner.

[177] This example is similar to my experience.

[178] As suggested by the Australian ABC TV show, Catalyst, June 24th, 2004, there might in some cases be amazingly simple ways to do this, e.g., by intentionally smiling on the right side of one’s face (e.g., as opposed to sneering on the other side), the more emotionally-positive thereto-connected left side of the brain can become more active. Laughter clubs could help too.

[179] See, e.g., Gaudry, E and Spielberger, C.D (1971) Anxiety And Educational Achievement. Sydney. John Wiley & Sons, and Holt, John (1969) How Children Fail and (1970) How Children Learn Penguin. Parts of such books can be re-interpreted in a pro-truth way.

[180] Research into the brain suggests a physical basis enabling this, in that the frontal cortex has neural connections with the limbic (emotional) system, and can overrule at least many emotions. This is partly similar to Jerry Fodor’s point regarding how our higher-level, flexible cognition can overrule our brain’s primitive, encapsulated (i.e., inflexible or unchangeable) perceptual experiences. E.g., again, we perceive a stick partly in water as thereby bent, but our brain’s higher-level cognitive parts overrule that misleading perception — so we (justifiably) believe the stick did not bend. (See, e.g., Fodor, J (1983) The Modularity of Mind Cambridge Massachusetts. MIT Press.) Similarly, our higher-level cognitive parts can overrule an emotion when we believe the emotion ought not to be expressed. So, e.g., Anne, who feels like physically attacking Tina because Anne is angry with and dislikes Tina, can stop the attack. Further, if Anne has sufficient higher-level control, she can stop feeling the dislike and anger. Again, a type of meditation is useful here, for developing that control.

[181] Popper, K (1966) "The Open Society and its Enemies". Vol 2. London. Routledge. p 225 and 238

[182] Popper, K (1966) "The Open Society and its Enemies". Vol 2. London. Routledge. p 225

[183] A direct democracy is more democratic (inclusive or universal) than an indirect democracy. In indirect democracies citizens vote only every few years, for a mostly unknown member of parliament who promises (often fraudulently and self-servingly) to (indirectly) represent all voters, regarding all governmental decisions, many not anticipated by voters. A referendum is a type of direct democracy: all voters directly make the decision. Referendums tend to be merely occasional. A fully direct pro-knowledge democracy would be full-time, encouraging all concerned with any decision to be involved in making the decision, for all high-level decisions. U H/I E/T implies this universality among pro-truth persons. Modern internet and similar communications technology could make direct democracy practicable. A pro-truth peaceful world would remove the motivation to have the less democratic, more efficient military-style governments perhaps best able to wage war.

[184] I accept Foucault’s notion that positive freedom is empowerment, and vice versa (and much else he says). If you are free to do something, you have the power to do it, and vice versa. See, e.g., Patton, P. “Taylor And Foucault On Power And Freedom” in Political Studies, XXXVII, 1989, pp 260-276. and Foucault, M. “The Subject And Power” in Dreyfus, H, and Rabinow, P, (eds) Michel Foucault: Beyond Structuralism and Hermeneutics. Harvester Press. 1982.

[185] There is also an action-implementing, neural-motor level. But this is not a level of thought (and it is levels of thought which are being discussed). It consists of the unthinking motor neurones, muscles and so on which implement the action-prompting level’s command to act.

[186] Again, as argued in Part I, Chapter 1, Section 1, the term ‘justifiable’ can coherently only mean ‘epistemically justifiable’.

[187] It is epistemically unjustifiable to ask for more than one is able to do. This is discussed further, later.

[188] The notion of an intrinsically justifiable pro-truth self is also different from an interpretation of Kant which focuses on the notion that rational nature or a rational being as such is an end in itself, given that by ‘rational nature’ Kant seems to mean something like ‘thinking via non-contradiction and universalisability, as in the UCI’. In Part II, Chapter 1, Section 6 it was argued that this purely formal notion, because it lacks epistemically justifiable content, i.e., (pro-truth) truth, it lacks overall epistemic justifiability. Hence a rational being as such cannot properly be of epistemically justifiable intrinsic value. A calculator or computer as such is a rational being as such, and we justifiably tend not to regard them as being of justifiable intrinsic value. Rationality as such is merely of epistemically justifiable extrinsic value. It is a mere means, a method, a method intended to achieve something epistemically justifiable, a method which inherently aims to have truth as its content. It is only part of the means to the end, ‘epistemically justifiable knowledge-content’.

[189] Again, this book is primarily intended for undergraduate students. So, especially regarding beginning undergraduates, I don’t think such comments are patronising. I hope not. They are certainly not intended to be. Being patronising can have anti-truth effects.

[190] Such points concern that structure’s orthogonality. As explained elsewhere, diversity can also be pro-truth and hence belong on the vertical dimension too. E.g., if we lack pro-truth knowledge concerning a disease, we are most likely to think of the correct hypothesis if we think of diverse plausible hypotheses rather than stick with just one problematic hypothesis. Here pro-knowledge persons converge by agreeing that diverging is pro-knowledge.

[191] Here then is a practical theory which epistemically justifiably orthogonally reconciles the notions of ‘the right’ and ‘the (feels) good’. (This comment relates to a distinction, made by some philosophers, between ‘(cognitively known to be) right’, i.e., a claim concerning objectivity, and ‘(feels) good (or is desirable)’, a subjective or emotional notion. (There are other definitions.)) The pro-truth structure shows we can do what’s right and still have a qualitatively very good life. With this, pro-truth theory alone can epistemically justifiably orthogonally reconcile the objective and subjective.

[192] J.S. Mill’s ideas concerning eccentricity and free-thinking, as in his On Liberty, can be re-interpreted in a pro-truth way here (and applied to a-truth freedom too).

[193] So-called ‘white power’ supporters can probably more easily believe their race is justifiably intrinsically valuable and that their racism is justified because of the moral (delusory) self-centred notions often associated with the term ‘white’, and its opposite, ‘black’. E.g., ‘white’ is often associated with purity, with moral goodness, with being the opposite of moral evil. Such notions appeal to self-centred, self-called ‘whites’. ‘Black’ is often associated with evil, and so on. E.g., expressions such as ‘You black-hearted fellow’ are often used as insults. However, as I long ago read somewhere (source forgotten), the truth is that the colour of so-called ‘white’ persons is from pale pink to pinky-brown or, when tanned, they are brown. So-called ‘black’ persons tend to really be different shades of brown. So the true name for so-called ‘white power’ is something like ‘pink power’. Or, instead of ‘white-power’ seeing itself as intrinsically opposed to ‘black power’, it is more accurate to see them as, respectively, ‘pinky-brown power’ and ‘often browner power’. Sticking to the truth here, and elsewhere, e.g., regarding ageism, would make it much harder to associate moral notions such as ‘good’ and ‘evil’ with unjustifiable discrimination. So such truths are pro-truth truths.

[194] This implies a need for a radical revision of Rawls’s social contract theory, its ‘original position’, views concerning freedom, aims for society, and so on.

[195] Here is another implication for Rawls’s theory. His notion of (justice as) fairness is epistemically unjustifiable because it does not relate to that aim.

[196] E.g., if food is short on an isolated island, it could be the case that either one person sacrifices themselves, or all die.

[197] The arguments in this book imply that it is not epistemically justifiable to call this ‘ageism’. It is pro-truth, epistemically justifiable discrimination. If an ‘ism’ label is used, the most appropriate is something like ‘pro-truthism’ or ‘justifiabilism’.

[198] Again, ‘fairness’ is an abstract term; in practice it must be relative to some specific practicable notion. Some believe that fairness should be relative to randomness or arbitrariness, e.g., by choosing via coin-tossing among persons needing some life-saving medical procedure, to see who gets the procedure. Such fairness-as-arbitrariness could allow an anti-truth mass murderer to be saved, and a pro-truth medical researcher to die. A Hitler could be saved, and a Florey dies. The notion, ‘Be arbitrary’, is epistemically unjustifiable. The only notion to which fairness can epistemically justifiably be relative is the epistemically justifiable standard/end. Medical procedures, and any resources, would epistemically justifiably be given to whoever both needs and epistemically justifiably most deserves them. It is justifiably fair for persons to get what they justifiably deserve, and need.

[199] E.g., if a certain part, P, of a live person’s brain, ceases electro-chemical activity, e.g., due to injury, then the person’s conscious experience of the bodily function which P was involved with ceases, as does the function, as in blindness. All such evidence suggests that, when the whole brain’s electro-chemical activity ceases, due to death, the person’s whole consciousness ceases. (This is evidence against religious beliefs in an after-life. There is no evidence for such beliefs.)

[200] However, it is pro-truth to avoid death if one’s continued life would probably mean a more pro-truth world than if one dies. Here Sally has a responsibility to get cured.

[201] Again, pro-truth situational relativity only means that, in different situations, different means may be optimal in relation to achieving the single ultimate, primary end. That is, the end does not change; there is no relativity (changeability) of the single, justifiable end. Only the means to that end change.
Incidentally, this notion of situational relativity, and the related notion of a situationally-variable balance among the means needed to optimally achieve that single end, solves the controversies concerning issues such as moral particularism versus atomism.

[202] I’m distinguishing such grief from ‘depression in general’, a much wider term.

[203] Part II, Chapter 3, Section 2 discusses this further.

[204] Here they might unjustifiably arbitrarily toss a coin, imagining this is fair, as discussed in a recent footnote.

[205] Until at least a majority is optimally pro-truth and hence entirely unselfish, something like Rawls’s difference principle might be most pro-truth here. That is, to increase the pro-truth nature of society for all, some may need to be motivated by differential rewards or benefits, e.g., via higher pay. Yet it may be most pro-truth here to pay the difference in a different type of currency. All could get the same income in what could be called ‘basic dollars’. Beyond that, people could earn different amounts of something like ‘leisure dollars’. These could only be spent on leisure. So, e.g., if Christine earns more than Kevin, she could have holidays in more distant locations than he could normally afford. The non-basic (and basic) currency could not be spent on things giving Christine unjustifiable power or influence over others, e.g., via achieving control over a newspaper which influences others’ thinking. And so on. The richer could not use their greater wealth to have greater power over others.

[206] Of course, apart from personal wealth-equality (at least regarding ‘basic dollars’), person P1’s work might require more wealth-input than P2’s. E.g., medical equipment can cost more than the equipment a kindergarten teacher needs. But all non-personal wealth would, in a just(ifiable) society, be socially-universalised wealth — unselfishly used to justifiably benefit humanity.

[207] The abstract concept ‘fairness’ is only practicable if it relates to something sufficiently specific to be unambiguously practicable. The only epistemically justifiable practicable notion of ‘fairness’ is, e.g., to share resources so as to achieve the pro-truth end as optimally as possible overall, i.e., over all persons and time.

[208] E.g., past experience shows it is likely we’ll discover more cures for human diseases in as-yet uninvestigated species. If we make them extinct before we investigate them, e.g., via destroying an environment they need, they cannot provide that knowledge. Importantly, for the human animal, the aesthetic appeal of natural environments can also be of intrinsic emotional value, and this and the freedom to enjoy them and exercise in them, and so on, can indirectly have pro-truth effects. (Something similar can apply to art.)

[209] It is not practicable, e.g., for an infant to have the same balance or reciprocity between rights and responsibilities as an able adult. Adults have the justifiable responsibility to provide children with food, education and so on. Children have a pro-truth right to those resources, but no responsibility to fully reciprocate — till much later. They need to learn that, when older, they will have a duty to use their abilities, developed via those resources, in a pro-truth way, for all.

[210] It’s a-truth to be an exception (individualistic) in a-truth areas. It’s pro-truth to make an exceptional advance in pro-truth knowledge; and so on.

[211] The ‘overall’ here relates to a point made two footnotes ago. E.g., over the overlapping lifespans of all able persons, there can be the harmony (balance) among benefits and burdens implied by that footnote.

[212] They are worthwhile (justifiable) for other reasons too, as implied above. Similarly, various other things this book says are justifiable can be so for reasons other than the explicitly given reason(s).

[213] An overall (widest-possible) view of ‘able’ is needed. E.g., I had an aunt, almost totally physically and somewhat intellectually disabled for years, who was able to give me helpful emotional support during various family disasters. (So did my dog, which greatly lacked intellectual ability.) Without such support this book might not have been written, or would have taken years longer.

[214] E.g., a pro-knowledge direct democracy would encourage all concerned with a decision to be involved in making the decision, though, at least sometimes, some persons would be have the opportunity to only have their views considered by the decision-makers. A pro-knowledge democracy needs knowledge-based decisions wherever possible. E.g., school children who lack knowledge concerning the healthiest diets school canteens could offer could request certain foods, but the final decision would crucially involve those with most dietary knowledge here. However, nutrition as such would not be the only thing considered. Dietary knowledge alone is insufficient. Decision-makers with a justifiable overall view (judgement) would also consider social-psychological and other factors here. E.g., if children desperately want hamburgers within various taste/appearance ranges, it should be possible to have healthy hamburgers within those ranges, rather than force a nutritionally-equivalent unwanted sandwich on the children. Importantly, before a final decision, the children would have the reasons (evidence) for what is probably the decision explained to them, and have an opportunity to state their views on this — in case the decision-makers missed some factor. The children would need to understand that the decision is justified and involved considering their reasonable views and any a-truth preferences.

[215] In ‘cultures’ I include religious groups. E.g., the Australian government insists on non-sexism in employment, but permits the Roman Catholic culture to refuse to employ women as priests, cardinals etc. Of course, even if a religious culture is or becomes non-sexist, it remains unjustifiable for other reasons.

[216] Some comments in this section suggest there is what philosophers call an ‘internal’ motivation to be pro-truth.

[217] Because there is often that lack, or only a theoretical prefacing, the universality here is an aspect of being only minimally pro-truth.

[218] This point is adapted from a type of naturalistic epistemology. See, e.g., Hilary Kornblith’s “Introduction”, in Kornblith’s (1994) (ed) Naturalizing Epistemology, 2nd edition. Massachusetts: Bradford Book, MIT Press, p 5. Kornblith discusses Quine here.

[219] The survival-necessary areas concerning food, cliffs and so on, namely observable survival-related issues, are different from the moral and religious areas, where observation is impossible and evidence unavailable. As argued in Part I, regarding morality and religion, it can be survival-helpful to have false beliefs. However, it is not survival-necessary: we can also survive via a practical theory as close to truth as possible. This book suggests that this would be more survival-helpful too, overall.

[220] This is because it is impossible to achieve an overall harmony which includes false beliefs. The reasons for this involve the above explanation that there is, for us, only one reality, one practicable truth-as-a-whole. Part II, Chapter 4 discusses the reasons further.

[221] As explained in Part II, Chapter 1, Section 4.1, certain rights, a type of flourishing and so on are not the foundation of pro-truth theory. They are means to or an aspect of achieving its end for humans. The foundation, the pro-truth standard, is epistemically based. The justifiability of those rights etc is derived from that foundation or basis: they are derivative, not fundamental. That section also explained that the situation is different regarding duties. E.g., the most general duty, ‘Be pro-truth’, is the same as that prescriptive standard, so in that sense this duty is fundamental. Because it is a pro-truth virtue to be pro-truth, the previous sentence applies to this virtue.

[222] These problems were at least implicitly discussed in Part I. E.g., a moral interpretation of virtues means they are reducible to the types of moral concepts explicitly discussed in Part I. E.g., if modesty is a moral virtue, this must be because being modest is a morally correct thing to do — so the fundamental notion here is that modesty is (allegedly) good in itself. That’s the alleged reason why it is (allegedly) morally virtuous to be modest. Similarly for bravery, honesty and so on. So the discussion in Part I can be adapted to apply to the moral notion, ‘virtue’. One such issue here is that moral virtue theories involve epistemically insoluble problems involving conflicts among virtues. E.g., if it is morally virtuous to be both honest and kind, then, as many skeptics point out, how can we know when it is unkind to be honest? (Only a single epistemically justifiable standard/end can solve such conflicts.)

[223] Being cruel for the sake of cruelty is definitely anti-truth, as it conflicts with the peacefulness and positive interpersonal relationships implied by the notion ‘Universal harmony regarding achieving the pro-truth’. However, there can be very hard choices here, as in some cases where it could be pro-truth to hurt someone’s feelings, e.g., by making honest criticisms of them which seem likely, on limited evidence, to help them become more pro-truth in the long run. (A version of the saying, ‘Sometimes you need to be cruel to be kind’, can apply.) The overall intention or end-aim here is not to be cruel, but to be helpfully pro-truth. A distinction needs to be made between temporary means and long-term end.

[224] This point, plus points above concerning Kant’s formal, epistemic standard, via which something can be allegedly judged to be a duty, suggest further that Kant’s epistemic standard is too limited. E.g., it is true that ‘Always lie’ cannot conceivably be universalised; yet just because there is this inconceivability, this does not mean that ‘Never lie’ or ‘Always be truthful’ is an epistemically justifiable perfect duty.

[225] Rawls (1999) Theory Of Justice. OUP, Revised Edition (the last, as he’s dead). p3

[226] The next section qualifies Rawls’s use of selfish persons. The present discussion relies on the fact that the specific ends aimed at are not the epistemically justifiable end, not the (alterable) fact that they are also selfish ends.

[227] The epistemically justifiable re-interpretation of Aristotle’s notion, ‘nous’, mentioned in the previous section, applies here. That is, a highest-level integrating level of thought is needed to oversee and achieve the epistemically justifiable flourishing outlined in the present chapter and elsewhere in this book.

[228] The Australian ABC Radio National program, “Life Matters”, 9th Dec 2003, reported on this.

[229] However, Rawls seems to use egoists as a ‘worst-possible’ type, implying that a fair society is achievable even with the worst-possible type of persons — and that as real persons are mostly not that bad (selfish), a real, fair society would be even more easily achievable (and happier (more flourishing) due to a natural, somewhat unselfish sense of community).

[230] And the fact that anger is often associated with swearing is a different issue. The justifiability of the degree of any anger here, and whether the anger is directed towards something unjustified, are important issues. Various points above apply to them.

[231] These comments describe part of the situation regarding swearing in the so-called Western nations, especially those with a mainly British background. I have no idea what the situation is in some other cultures.

[232] They could make decisions here for adults lacking epistemic autonomy. E.g., benevolent carers of intellectually disabled adults wanting to be sex partners might justifiably decide to not stop them having (safe etc) sex.

[233] Except in an unlikely case such as:- After a disaster, the only humans left in the universe are a few fertile pro-truth females and one able but unwilling homosexual man. The only way to ensure a pro-truth world is to force the man to donate sperm. This would be unselfish rape, not done for pleasure. The man would be selfish.

[234] An exception would be, e.g., an adult for whom sex would only cause pain, due to some physical abnormality.

[235] A general point:- There is no justification for acting via a predisposition just because it is a predisposition. The above criticisms of nature-based morality apply here. A predisposition or preference is just an inclination. It is not a necessity, as in it being survival-necessary for us to have oxygen. There is no justification for acting via, e.g., a predisposition to violence or selfishness. We can choose to resist or redirect a predisposition. In a sense, much of this book is redirection of an aggressive predisposition.

[236] Religion needs to be censored, indeed ruled out, except as delusional beliefs to be studied in a rationally critical way, or rationally humorous way, as in some Monty Python films.

[237] At another time Ken may have different dominant or effective beliefs, and regret a previous intended act. This is not a problem for the present point. It is a problem for anyone aiming for long-term belief-consistency.

[238] I’m using terms such as ‘intentional’ to exclude such things as impulsive acts, because they are not reflected on, i.e., considered in relation to one’s reflected-on beliefs. Impulsive acts are close to unconscious and hence unintended acts.

[239] Perhaps somehow, by chance, a false belief concerning some end might help one achieve the end. But, on-average, or overall, they fail. Truth, and hence being somewhat pro-truth, is necessary. E.g., suppose a moral theory’s end is ‘Enjoy life — eat delicious food, drink fine wine, have much sex, and so on’. It will not help to achieve that end if, e.g., one believes that putrid mud or poison is delicious food, that gravel or a dog is fine wine, or that sex only involves cutting string.

[240] The point is more obvious if ‘best’ is explicitly defined as ‘most justifiably’, which means ‘most epistemically justifiably’.

[241] Groundwork, RPAp 402

[242] Elsewhere he says things which can seem inconsistent with (1). However, I’m trying to argue from what I think he mostly says, or most explicitly and clearly says. At times he is very obscure, and can here plausibly be interpreted in conflicting ways.

[243] Groundwork RPAp 453-4

[244] Mary Gregor (1996) (trans and ed) The Metaphysics Of Morals Cambridge Univ Press. p 15-16. AK (RPA) 6:223 (Gregor uses ‘AK’ to mean the Academy’s editions of Kant’s work, i.e., the Royal Prussian Academy’s editions, whereas I use ‘RPA’ for the same.)

[245] Mary Gregor (1996) (transl and ed) The Metaphysics Of Morals Cambridge Univ Press. P 15-16 AK (RPA) 6:223

[246] op. cit., p 16, footnote.

[247] AK (RPA) 8:347 & 373, and their footnotes. From www.mtholyoke.edu/acad/intrel/kant/kant1.htm

[248] E.g., Groundwork RPAp 408

[249] Groundwork RPAp 439, according to a typical translation, here in Great Books of the Western World.

[250] See, e.g., The Collins German Dictionary. 2nd ed. Harper-Collins. 1991.

[251] See, e.g., The Collins German Dictionary. 2nd ed. Harper-Collins. 1991.

[252] However, in Part I, Chapter 4, I point out certain insoluble problems involved in the notion that a maxim is the most general rule in an area.

[253] E.g., Metaphysics of Morals AK (RPA) 6: 390. Gregor (ed) p 153