Absolute Values: Relying on C. S. Lewis; or, Seeking Shelter in House of Straw

The main focus of Do Objective Moral Standards Exist in the World Today?
by Johnson (no first—last?—name) in the Quodlibet Journal (http://www.quodlibet.net/johnson-morality.shtml) is on the shortcomings of moral relativism, the falseness of which, having been proven to the author’s satisfaction, shows that “some form of moral absoluteness” must be true. At least Johnson doesn’t proceed as most apologists do, as if their supposed refutation of relativism proves that their version of absolutism is self-evident.

The author’s major assertion is that “moral relativism is false because one cannot live consistently with a relativistic view of morality.” This an odd claim, especially coming from someone who seems to be a Christian, not many of whom would agree that the difficulty, if not impossibility, of leading the life that Christ preached proves that his teachings are false.

Johnson quotes C. S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity to support the view that the actual behavior of relativists refutes their professed beliefs:

“Whenever you find a man who says he does not believe in a real Right and Wrong, you will find the same man going back on this a moment later. He may break his promise to you, but if you try breaking one to him he will be complaining ‘It’s not fair’ before you can say Jack Robinson.”

It’s a common rhetorical move to attribute imaginary beliefs and actions to an imaginary opponent and then show them to be false or foolish, and conclude as if you’ve said something meaningful about the real beliefs and actions of real people. In this case, Lewis creates an imaginary person, attributes imaginary behavior to him, and claims that all people who have the beliefs Lewis gives to his imaginary person will behave as that fictional person does. How realistic is Lewis’s description of how every promise-breaking relativist behaves when someone breaks a promise to him? In real life, a person who complains about a promise being broken to him isn’t necessarily basing his complaint on a belief that misleading people is morally wrong; it’s possible he doesn’t like being misled because it causes him a psychological or physical harm. By having this imaginary person say, “It’s not fair,” Lewis is trying to lead the reader to conclude that the reason for the fictional complaint about being lied to is moral outrage, when it’s at least possible, and may even be likelier, that in the real world such a complaint would be based on the discomfort of suffering a personal insult or injury. Thus, in real life, a complainer needn’t be revealing—or contradicting—anything about his moral beliefs. Any attempt by us to use the fact that he doesn’t like to suffer to claim he’s revealed his actual moral beliefs, relativist or otherwise, is illegitimate because his avowed aversion to suffering tells us nothing about his attitude toward whether and under what conditions he finds it acceptable that suffering be inflicted on others. The fictional behavior of Lewis’s straw man is based less on reality than the needs of a rather weak rhetorical argument.

Lewis continues:
“A nation may say treaties don’t matter; but then, next minute they spoil their case by saying that the particular treaty they wanted to break was an unfair one. But if treaties do not matter, and if there is no such thing as Right and Wrong—in other words, if there is no Law of Nature—what is the difference between a fair treaty and an unfair one? Have they not let the cat out of the bag and shown that, whatever they say, they really know the Law of Nature (absolute standards of right and wrong) just like anyone else.”

(The phrase “just like anyone else” is a deft touch, with the implication that in the realm of morals, there is of course a basic truth—“the Law of Nature”—on which all reasonable people agree, reasonable people being, of course, people who agree with C. S. Lewis; of course.)

A nation is trying to get out of a treaty; first it says treaties don’t matter, and then it says a particular treaty is unfair. The political point it’s trying to make is that no treaty is binding, and even if it this one were, it’s so unfair that breaking it is justified. The latter contention would seem to be bolstering, not spoiling the argument.

Lewis’s triumphant sense that he’s caught his imaginary opponent in a trap is based on two assertions:

1. Saying treaties don’t matter is equivalent to saying there is no such thing as absolute Right and Wrong.
2. Someone who claims something is unfair “really knows” there is such a thing as absolute Right and Wrong.”

Neither proposition is necessarily true.

1. Someone who denies the binding nature of treaties can be acting from an attitude akin to the classic Bolshevik belief that a treaty with an Imperialist nation is not binding because any narrow expediency deriving from such a treaty can be set aside whenever broader ideological interests (i.e., interests based on the principles of a totalizing ideology of which one is absolutely convinced) make it preferable to do so. Thus, such a person, in saying treaties don’t matter, is saying this precisely because he does believe that there is such a thing as an absolute Right and Wrong, one that excuses breaking treaties with an enemy. One might contest the truth of such a person’s ideology, but one can’t deny that he believes there is an absolute Right and Wrong and is basing his actions on it; to say his Right and Wrong aren’t the “Right” Right and Wrong begs the question. In particular, note the ambiguity in Lewis’s characterization of the Law of Nature: Does the Law merely say there are “absolute standards of right and wrong,” or does it say what those standards are? If the latter, whose standards constitute the true Law? Elsewhere, in a further discussion not quoted by Johnson, Lewis characterizes the Law of Nature as “the human idea of decent behavior,” something that is “obvious to anyone.” As usual, Lewis’s claims turn out to be stunningly vacuous, and grounded on little more than his pleased discovery that his values are universally shared by people who agree with him.

2. A nation that claims a treaty is unfair is saying that it believes it’s giving more than it’s getting, but that, for political, economic, or military reasons, it may feel that it has to sign the treaty anyway. Its claim of unfairness can be based wholly on national self-interest, and not on an appeal to a supposed universal standard of justice. Similarly, people demanding to be treated “fairly” can be (and in real life probably mostly are) speaking out of a sense of personal entitlement rather than a sense that a universal moral rule has been broken. In addition, in both cases, it’s possible that someone who complains about being wronged doesn’t believe in absolute values at all, but is trying to gain a strategic advantage by exploiting his opponent’s (or their mutual audience’s) presumed belief in them. Thus, a complaint about not being treated fairly doesn’t mean the complainer “really knows” there are absolutes, it can mean simply that he knows other people think there are.

Both Lewis and Johnson have a few other arguments against relativism, but they add nothing to issues I’ve addressed elsewhere.