Saturday, March 29, 2025

Richard Swinburne on metaphysical necessity

www.youtube.com/watch?v=KhJ2XaGbYZ4, 15m

I've asked the question whether there is anything meaningful about the idea of 'metaphysical impossibility', and concluded that it can be reduced to logical impossibility. https://benstowell.blogspot.com/2024/10/physical-possibility-vs-metaphysical.html

Swinburne says before the 1970s, the only notion of necessity was logical necessity where denying the truth of something entails a contradiction. Then Kripke and Putnam presented the example of denying "Water is H2O." Water is necessarily H2O, but denying that water is H2O does not entail a contradiction. So here you have something that is necessary but not logically necessary, and here is where we need the notion of 'metaphysically necessary.' Facts of essences, or essential facts, are metaphysically necessary. We can think of it in terms of possible worlds. In all possible worlds, water is H2O. It's impossible for water to not be H2O. And yet, there is no contradiction in saying water is H3O or some other chemical composition.

Swinburne rejects this. If by 'water' we mean 'H20', then denying 'H2O is H2O' does entail a contradiction. It is logically necessary for everything to be identical to itself. If by water we mean 'blue stuff in our rivers and oceans,' then 'water is blue stuff in our rivers and oceans' is not necessary. There are possible worlds in which water is not (perceived to be) blue or not in our rivers or oceans.

So the confusion arises from equivocating on essential vs non-essential properties. If we define water in terms of essential properties, then denying that water is H2O is a logical contradiction. If we define water in terms of non-essential properties, then it's not necessary for water to be that. So we do not have an example here of something that's both necessary and yet not logically necessary.

This reminds me of a very similar confusion, if not the very same, that motivates the Water/H2O / Superman/Clark Kent response to the objection against identity theory that identifying thoughts with brain states immediately violates Leibniz's Law. Joshua Rasmussen explains things nicely here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KhJ2XaGbYZ4

Swinburne reduces metaphysical necessity to logical necessity too. Neat!

Friday, March 28, 2025

The Problem of Salient Suffering: Saving vs preventing

In this post (https://benstowell.blogspot.com/2025/03/the-argument-from-salient-suffering.html) I argue from salient suffering to the non-existence of God.
 
When a person is in fact suffering from a max salient evil, then the best thing for them – a max salient good – is to save them. This faces the following objection:
 
How does salience transfer from intrinsic goods to depriving evils, or from intrinsic evils to saving goods? If saving / depriving means preventing, then unborn creatures suffer a max evil by being deprived of max goods. But intuitively, unborn creatures cannot suffer at all, and certainly not maximally. Maximal suffering is salient, and salient suffering depends on consciousness.
 
(I guess you could try to cash things out in terms of the consciousness of God. God is consciously aware of how much better it would be for non-existent creatures to become conscious and enjoy max goods. Indeed, wouldn't that be the basis for God's motivation to create other creatures? But intuitively to suffer (in the worst way) is to suffer consciously. So if the unborn are suffering (in the worst way) from deprivation, then they are suffering consciously. But non-existent persons cannot suffer consciously. Whether salience transfers may depend on whether there are modal facts and whether God, being omniscient, is aware of all the creatures that would exist and what goods they would enjoy were God to create them. If there are no modal facts, then God is off the hook. If there are modal facts, then perhaps facts of would-be consciousness provides the conscious facts needed for salience.)
 
Certainly there is a self-evident conscious difference between suffering consciously and not. So does God need to allow someone to suffer from a max salient evil for a moment to transfer salience from the intrinsic suffering to the saving good? That seems silly. Surely it's even better to not suffer maximally for even one moment.
 
It's not that God is ever rescuing people from worst possible fates, it's that he's preventing these fates from occurring, because even the one moment is unjustified. But then how does salience transfer? If there is no actual suffering, only "modal" suffering, then does that commit one to modal facts? This person would suffer a maximal evil if God doesn't intervene, so God has to intervene? I don't want to commit myself to modal facts, in case the grounding objection, and other objections, prove too powerful.
 
If a single person suffers a single moment of max evil, then it will have been the case that God is not perfect. Obviously, God cannot allow this. So it can never have been the case that God is not perfect. So it can never be the case that someone will suffer a max evil.
 
So it's not modal facts, but future facts (facts of the closed future) that allow salience to transfer from intrinsic goods/evils to preventative goods/evils. It cannot be the case that intrinsic evils are salient without it being the case that future intrinsic evils are salient.
 
But maybe even open future facts can do this too. If there is a 10% chance for a person to experience unbearable suffering, then there's a 10% chance for God to not exist. Obviously, that's absurd. So open future facts about unbearable suffering are impossible; it's always 0%.
 
If someone is enjoying a max good, it can never be the case that this person will cease to enjoy this max good, as this would be a max depriving evil, with salience transferring from the max good to the depriving evil by way of direct comparison. So it can never be the case that someone will enjoy a max good only to cease enjoying it. Max depriving evils enable max saving goods – being saved from the depriving evil. So once someone is in heaven, God cannot possibly take them out.
 
Of the non-existent persons who will never come to be, there are no future facts for them. Because future facts are what carry salience, and because there are no future facts for the non-existent persons that never come to be, non-existent persons that never come to be never suffer maximal salient depriving evils.
 
Or, we can scratch all that and say there are max modal depriving evils and a perfect being is obligated to create an infinite number of creatures who each enjoy max goods. Which, there's probably reason to believe this anyway – a perfect being must create the best possible state of affairs, and what else could be the best possible state of affairs except the maximum possible number of creatures living fundamentally good lives?
 
This also nicely explains away the brute fact of your existence. Why do you exist rather than some other person in your place? Because you literally have to exist – everyone does. Only impossible persons do not exist.
 
Of course, we are not living fundamentally good lives, which are lives where a person never rejects consciousness (i.e., never prefers non-existence to existence) and always lives. Some of us do reject consciousness, which entails unbearable suffering. So, this cannot be the best possible state of affairs, and there cannot be a best possible being.

Thursday, March 27, 2025

What does it mean for something to exist? The data view

I've heard a few definitions of existence over the years:

1) To exist is to be the value of a bound variable.

2) To exist is to instantiate at least one property.

3) To exist is be an indispensable property. 

4) To exist is to explain at least one point of data; to explain our experiences.

The last one is interesting. To exist is to explain data. We have two kinds of data: privately accessible and publicly accessible. Both cry out for explanation. If I have a religious experience where I strongly feel the presence of God, then we broadly have two explanations for this data: 1) God exists. 2) God doesn't and something else is causing this feeling that is being misperceived as the presence of God.

There are two kinds of data, again: a priori data and a posteriori data, or data that depends on perception, observation, and science, and data that depends on concepts, language, meaning, and understanding.

To not exist is to fail to explain any data. Does God exist? That depends. Is there any data that God explains, that could not be explained otherwise? Theists say yes: The beginning of the universe, contingent facts, the advent of life (especially: life capable of feeling love from and for God), the advent of consciousness, and morality are five key data points theists say require God for explanation. Non-theists argue that we do not need God to explain the beginning of the universe (maybe because there isn't one), contingent facts, the advent of life, the advent of consciousness, or morality.

Do numbers exist? That depends. Is there any data that numbers explain that could not be explained otherwise? Nominalists will say we don't need numbers to explain numerical data, only ideas or thoughts about numbers. After all, we don't need unicorns to explain our thoughts about unicorns, we just need the thoughts! Just as fictional entities are explained by ideas in the mind, so too are numbers explained by ideas in the mind.

Realists can say that this doesn't cut it, because we can trace any fictional entity to real properties (or to real objects that have properties). We can trace fictions to an author's mind. While we cannot trace the unicorn to a single author, we can trace the unicorn to ideas of horse, horn, magic. We can further trace magic to real properties. So thoughts about unicorns are thoughts about <list traceable properties here>. If numbers don't explain data, and only thoughts about numbers do, then what are the traceable properties of numbers?

What is data if not experiential? And so to explain data is to explain our experiences. This includes direct data, like when we see a tree in front of us, and indirect data, like when we hear scientists talk about quarks and leptons. I experience scientists talking about these things. What explains this experience? Here is an explanation: scientists are talking about quarks and leptons as if they exist because the scientists have experienced reading experiment reports, or conducted experiments themselves, that cause them to experience data that cries out for explanation, and they have posited quarks and leptons to explain that. So we have degrees of "directness" of data. Some data is direct, most of it is inferential.

Moral data, therefore, in the form of intuitions, is absolutely data. Anything we experience is data. If someone wrongs me and I feel strongly that they have done something truly incorrect, what explains that feeling? Or when we hear about a dog owner locking her dog up in a room and then going on vacation for weeks so that she can get rid of her dog, and the dog slowly dies of thirst trapped in that room, and we feel so strongly that this was an evil thing to do that ought not be done, what's causing this strong feeling we have? Are there moral facts that cause us to feel these convictions, or is it just evolutionary programming?

Wednesday, March 26, 2025

Challenges to Christian Belief: Rundown

Capturing Christianity recently made a community post stating that Christianity is true. Make no mistake: Christianity is almost certainly false. Sometimes I'm tempted to drop the 'almost'. I do argue that we can be certain that infernalistic Christianity (where God sends people to eternal torture) is false, assuming that the Christian God is perfectly loving and good. Hell and perfection are logically incompatible. (You can even argue, as Graham Oppy does, that any imperfection at all is logically incompatible with perfection, let alone something as infinitely imperfect as hell.) David Lewis also argued that hell and perfection are logically incompatible. This is significant, because Christian traditions have largely taught hell. If hell and perfection are logically incompatible, then these traditions have been embarrassingly wrong about a doctrine of infinite importance. This destroys their credibility.

Let's give a very, very quick rundown of the sheer challenge to Christian faith.

1) Challenges from psychology, sociology, and evolution.

We have reason to be deeply suspicious of religion for evolutionary reasons. We know humans reproduce sexually. We know sexual reproduction is social in nature. We know humans rely on societies for resources. So both the individual and the species need social structures to survive. These social structures naturally lead to cliques or clique-like structures, tribalness, hierarchies, and so on. Religions provide substantial psychological benefits and provide rituals and practices that are enabling of reproduction. For example, beliefs in an afterlife alleviate anxiety, same with belief in a God who has everything under control and is on your side. Confidence is overwhelmingly valuable for us humans, and religious belief instills a great deal of confidence – a sense of purpose, a sense of protection, and a sense of understanding the world and your place in it. Church services unite young males and young females, leading to marriage and children.

This picture gives us a unified theory of religion – unified in the sense that we can explain all religions in terms of social and psychological laws emerging from biological laws. Christians cannot avail themselves of this powerful unifying theory because it would undermine Christianity. So Christians, along with all other religious believers, must engage in special pleading or ad hoc explanations for why other religions are false but their religion is not. (Christians blame Satan or demons for the existence of other religions.) By failing to acknowledge evolutionary, psychological, and sociological facts, Christians (and other religious believers) find themselves awkwardly opposed to data.

2) The irrationality of belief in hell.

Covered above.

3) The disappointment of the Bible.

The Bible contains mistakes of various kinds, to the point that Christian scholars happily admit this. They would say these mistakes needn't destroy core Christian doctrine. But what if these kinds of mistakes didn't exist? This would grant strong evidence that there is something special about the Bible. But as it stands, these mistakes (mistranslations, copy errors, typos, grammatical errors, suspicious authorship, contradictions, empirical falsehoods, etc.) make the Bible look like an ordinary work of human writing. For someone wanting a supernatural, God-made book, the Bible is disappointing.

The Bible also fails to include: 1) Uncontroversial, highly specific, highly important predictions for modern audiences; 2) Advanced knowledge of any science, mathematics, logic, or anything; 3) Any teachings on life that are so profound that they couldn't possibly come from anywhere but a supernatural source; and so on.

You also have problematic moral verses. Jesus teaches that you cannot get a divorce unless there is infidelity. So if a husband is violently abusive, you cannot get a divorce as long as he is not unfaithful.

Catholics will defend transubstantiation by saying that because followers of Jesus rejected his teaching of eating his flesh and drinking his blood, Jesus must have been saying something so crazy that it's unbelievable. This supports a transubstantiation interpretation. (How on earth is this a defense of Christianity and not an embarrassing confession is beyond me. You're admitting that your doctrine sounds crazy!)

But by this same logic, Jesus must have really been teaching that you cannot get a divorce unless there is infidelity, because there too Jesus' disciples said that if his teaching is true, it's better to not get married. (I imagine his male disciples were not worried about abusive wives. They probably had something else in mind. But domestic abuse by wives against husbands is a real thing, even if it's a minority of cases.)

A number of Paul's verses seem clearly misogynistic. Though, in contradiction, some also seem surprisingly egalitarian. We know Paul wasn't always writing; he was dictating and had scribes, so perhaps contradictions like this appear for that reason.

There are many problematic verses besides these pertaining to violence and slavery in the Old Testament. There are also many apparent contradictions. 

One example: 

Luke 9:50: But Jesus said to him, "Do not stop him, for whoever is not against you is for you."

First of all, it's just false that 'whoever is not against you is for you.' Neutrality does not imply allyship. You might say that Jesus was saying this because if someone can cast out demons, they must be on God's side. Okay. Then why didn't Jesus say: "Do not stop him, for whoever casts out demons does so by the authority of God"?

Second, just two chapters later we read:

Luke 11: "Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters."

It's also straight up false that when someone is not with you they are against you. Neutrality does not imply hostility or rejection.

But certainly it cannot both be the case that neutrality implies allyship and hostility!

You might say that the first applies only to his disciples, while the second applies only to Jesus. But why would Jesus be an exception to the first?

4) Christian reliance on secular methodology, and not the other way around.

Christians go to school. Why? To learn math, science, history, and so on. Non-Christians do not go to school to learn about Christianity (usually). They don't need to. Christians are forced to abide by methodological naturalism. Naturalists are not forced to abide by the Bible. You will not find a single non-Christian begrudgingly opening up a Bible because they need to solve a math problem, advance science, invent something, or in any way survive or gain any kind of practical advantage. The only context I could see this would be a fiction writing begrudgingly opening up a bible to read its stories to gain insight in story structure. That would make sense, as the Bible's stories are very well-structured, and frankly Hollywood could use all the help it could get.

Christians rely on an ordinary education so they can get ordinary jobs. There is nothing remotely extraordinary about Christians, their abilities, or their lives. If anything, Christianity tends to hold Christians back for various psychological reasons (discussed below under meager moral fruits).

5) Divine hiddenness

Enough said. WLC's "haunted house" response is one of the worst arguments in all of philosophy that I've heard.

6) Evil and the failure of theodicies

I've written on this somewhat extensively, though there's always more that can be said. I go through 13 theodicies and show severe problems with all of them.

Recently, the problem of evolution and animal suffering has had a massive impact on discussions around evil. It's really hard to see how a perfect being could create our world with such a "nasty, brutish, and short" kind of process to develop life. Animal suffering also is quite resistant to most theodicies. I've argued that we should expect a clear winning theodicy to be apparent to us if God is good, and yet we do not have one.

7) Evil and the failure of skeptical theism

I've written on this too. I think skeptical theism has multiple failure points. Just recently I attacked Hendrick's idea that existence is necessarily intrinsically good. To my shock, he admits that this idea is needed to defeat what he calls the strongest argument against skeptical theism. So if my attack works, the strongest argument against skeptical theism is back on the table.

8) Meager moral fruits

Christians are not supernaturally endowed with gifts of knowledge, competence, intelligence, wisdom, virtue, the ability to predict things, or anything. If they were, we would know by now. Now only are Christians not apparently noticeably better than non-Christians when it comes to moral knowledge or moral practice, but we can give psychoanalyses that explain how Christian belief could make one a worse person morally.

The following are practices or attitudes associated with Christians, Christianity, or the past of Christians or Christianity (not an exhaustive list):

  • Being pro-life. There are significant arguments in favor of the pro-choice position, and Christians are not supernaturally gifted in responding to these arguments. Pro-life policies undeniably lead to morally abhorrent situations, such as when pregnant women facing complications are turned away from life-saving care out of fear of legal repercussions, leading to the death of the mother, and, ironically, the baby.
  • Tribalism. You see this in church culture. Christians fail to overcome or rise above the biologically explicable tribalism that we find in all social contexts. Christians slot right into a naturalistic, evolutionary view of humanity.
  • Slavery, racism, homophobia, demonization of human sexuality, false and harmful teachings causing religious trauma, blasphemy laws and violent punishments, corrupt collusions with states, exploiting people for money (think megachurches, televangelists, the prosperity gospel, and indulgences), sexual abuse of children, the covering up of the sexual abuse of children, and the failure to supernaturally detect and prevent the sexual abuse of children. The Catholic Church, the Southern Baptist Convention, and the Mormon church all have skeletons in their closet. Except, those skeletons are out of the closet now. 

Here is one way that Christian belief can hold a Christian back: because they believe this life is temporary, sin-cursed, and so on, and they believe that they will go to heaven when they die, they can lack ambition in this life and basically treat this life as a throwaway. This leads to significant laziness. This gets exacerbated when the Christian believes in the power of prayer and that God, because he loves them, will save them from awful life circumstances. Prayer of course never works and so the Christian develops a kind of learned helplessness stemming from expectations of rescue from God. Christian belief can utterly paralyze the Christian and cause inaction, leading to a significantly worse life than would otherwise have been lived had the Christian instead understood that prayer does nothing, God isn't going to save you, if you want to be happy in life you need to fight for it. That's another thing that can exacerbate this: Christians are taught to accept their awful circumstances because if God allows it then it must be part of God's plan. This leads to an awful pathetic-ification where Christians are turned into spineless doormats who roll over and accept their awful circumstances instead of trying to proactively change them. "It's my cross to bear I guess...", or "This is God's plan, I guess...", or "God has his reasons...", they think. Tragic.

A clear moral failing on the part of Christians is revealed in a story by Rhett and Link. It's a really heartfelt story, and I'm so grateful for Rhett and Link speaking out about their deconversion when they could have stayed silent if they wanted to, when in some ways that would have been the easier thing to do socially speaking.

The story is that they had a friend who was dying from cancer. They were Christians and wanted to make sure he was saved. So they awkwardly preached the gospel to their friend, and it was a kind of awful thing, they admit. But they were doing the right thing. They were following the rules. Because they loved their friend they wanted their friend to be saved and go to heaven. But this desire led to treating their friend not as a human being, but an "object of salvation", or someone to be preached to. Josh Rasmussen in his interviews has mentioned the very same thing, that he had a change of heart at one point and realized how wrong it is to treat people as objects of salvation. I'm guilty of this very thing myself. Again, Christians have good intentions: they literally want to save someone. But because Christianity is false, this "saving" amounts to ignoring the human being in front of you, ignoring their pain, ignoring their needs, ignoring all of the truth of the real moment that you are in with that person, pushing all of that aside and forcing this conversion onto someone, when that is not how human psychology works. You cannot force someone to believe something that doesn't make sense to them! God, of all people, as the creator of humans, should understand this! And yet God seems to not understand the sheer awkwardness he has wrought by sending Christians on this mission to convert as many souls as possible before it's too late. If God is supposed to be a God of love and relationship, then he especially should be profoundly disturbed by the idea of people being treated as objects of salvation, which God should know would happen if he commanded the Great Commission!

9) Failure of Christian metaethics

Divine command ethics is challenged by the Euthyphro Dilemma. And WLC's response (I think from Bob Adams?) that God commands because he is good is poor. This still fails to define goodness. If you say God is literally the measure of goodness, then this is just straightforwardly false. This would mean "God is good" is a tautology, like saying "The meter bar is a meter long." But surely saying "God is good" is not so trivial. There is something else we mean by 'good.' Not to mention, it's obvious that we do not, and need not, invoke God to talk about good things, like good movies, good food, good friends, a good life, and so on.

10) Issues of doctrine:

Three doctrines border on incoherence, and at the very least come with severe theoretical costs: Trinity, Incarnation, and the Atonement

I would add the Eucharist and Faith as problematic doctrines. Inerrancy and inspiration are problematic too.

The Bible is filled with wisdom and beautiful stories. The idea of God incarnating as the race of creatures he creates to save them in some morally profound way that involves sacrifice, death, and resurrection is a very cool story. Christians like to say it's the best story ever told. Sadly, it's a story full of holes, and it's too good to be true.

Christianity faces numerous and severe challenges. There's a reason why the vast majority of humans are not Christian, especially those who are well-educated. I may fully agree that life would be infinitely more awesome if some version of Christianity were true. (Who doesn't want a perfect being to set everything straight on judgment day? Who doesn't want to go to an eternal paradise?) You can accept the parts of Jesus and God that are beautiful and instructive. You can accept the parts of the Bible that are true. I think meditating on what a perfect being would say to you can be an incredibly powerful personal practice. Praying for conviction of sin is one of the few genius inventions of Christianity. (Though how many Christians do you think pray for conviction of sin?) Though I'm not sure it's right to call it an invention of Christianity. But in any case, prayer as a practice of regular moral introspection is absolutely genius and non-Christians are worse off for not practicing it. In this regard Catholic Confession may alone make Catholicism superior as a practice to Protestantism.

There are so many problems with Christianity other than these. The problems are so deep and so wide. This is just a snippet, but even this is enough to see.

Sunday, March 23, 2025

My free will skepticism is compatible with a variety of views on consciousness

I was worried for a second that because my view on free will involves making a sharp distinction between the self as a subject that chooses (or experiences the choices its brain makes) and the self as an organism or animal, that I commit myself to a very specific theory of mind. The problem then would be that I would feel compelled to defend that theory of mind not because I thought it was true, but because I need it to be true for my view on free will to make sense. I guess I hoped that it only commits me to aspect dualism, which is a hill I'm happy to die on anyway, because I cannot imagine dispensing with either mental or physical properties.

But now it seems to me that we can obviously distinguish between the self as mental and the self as physical on a variety of views. My free will skepticism is openly available.

Identity theory says that there are mental properties, but these properties reduce to physical ones. So we have the mental self, which is a special subset of the human organism's physical properties (brain properties), and we have the non-mental self, which is the set of the remaining physical properties. No one chooses their brain properties, and so no one chooses their mental properties. But all deeds done are done by brain properties. So all deeds done are traced to factors outside the person's control. You still have good and bad people, it's just that no one is responsible for their goodness or badness.

I'm pretty sure epiphenomenalism immediately entails free will skepticism anyway, so that one doesn't matter. (Identity theory probably does too, but whatever.) Epiphenomenalism says that there is no mental causation. So you don't cause anything; everything that you experience is caused by your brain interacting with your environment. Not only are you not responsible for your actions, but technically you don't have any actions to be responsible for. Your soul is a pure byproduct, a spectator.

I'm pretty sure behaviorism immediately entails free will skepticism too? If consciousness is just behavior, then the self is just behavior, and so there is no self that causes the behavior, and so there is no self to blame. Behaviorism is so easily refuted that it's a moot point anyway.

Functionalism is trickier. Can the self / qualia / subjectivity be analyzed in terms of function? If functionalism implies that philosophical zombies can be conscious, then that's a problem. But why couldn't we say qualia is a function? You certainly have a sharp break between the mind as a function and the material that gives rise to the mind. So there you have the two senses of "I" and "You" that I need for my free will skepticism. But functionalism might immediately lead to free will skepticism anyway because if the self is a function and functions are traced to factors beyond the control of the function, then traceability will apply to the functional self.

Now that I think about it, it's really hard to see how free will can fit on any theory of mind. It certainly doesn't fit on eliminativism.

That seems to leave only substance dualism and monistic idealism as refuges for free will. But again traceability concerns apply, not to mention all the arguments against these views.

I guess free will just really doesn't make sense to me at all.

Recently, getting into action theory, I wondered whether you could defend free will on the basis that if someone does something knowingly wrong, then surely the person who causes this action is morally responsible for it. But two things came to mind: one, I'm highly suspicious of the possibility of akrasia, the weakness of will needed for this kind of deliberate evil, and two, even if akrasia is possible, you could run into traceability problems there. People who have akrasia don't choose to have it, and we can trace their akrasia to their genetics, environment, etc. So even something as solid as the idea of deliberately doing wrong doesn't save free will.

Sharon Rawlette on antirealism

"[If antirealism were true] I don't know why I would care about ethics anymore, why I would care about being systematic about the way that I choose what things I'm going to do, or even care about having ethical debates with people. We're not talking about anything real. So you care about people in this difficult situation and I don't, and that's as far as we can go."
 
80,000 hours podcast #138, 14m.
 
"It's not that the goodness or badness of this state [of happiness or pain] supervenes on it, but that intrinsic goodness is a qualitative state, so it's something that you can observe and experience yourself. If we didn't ever experience pleasure or pain, we wouldn't have the concept of intrinsic goodness that we do in fact have and use when making moral decisions. When we experience pleasure or pain, what we experience is something that justifies the desire or justifies avoiding a certain thing. In the book I talk about the feeling of ought-to-be-ness. When you feel pleasure, you're like 'Oh, this is why life is worth living. This is what we're here for. This is worth having.' And when you're experiencing suffering, you're experience something that – if this were all there was to existence, it would better to be dead." (19-20m)
 
"How do we even have a concept of moral facts? We have it through these experiences. We can experience their value or their disvalue. How can we experience the truth or falsity of moral facts? We can directly experience intrinsic goodness or intrinsic badness, that's something directly present to our consciousness, and then from there we can use the information that we have about the world that we live in to determine which other things are instrumentally good and bad because of the way they produce this conscious experience." (21m)
 
"I think that that's generally true [that you cannot derive an ought from an is], that's true for every kind of fact about the world except in these particular experiences of pleasure and pain – I think we see that those two categories come together. You can't describe what it is for an experience to be pleasure without talking about its goodness. It wouldn't be pleasure if it wasn't good! And pain would not be pain if it wasn't bad." (22-23m)

Friday, March 21, 2025

People be like

"Heaven would get boring eventually."
 
"Yep, we can imagine Sisyphus happy."
 
Both these views are false and contradictory.
 
Starting with the contradiction, if you think heaven, a literal paradise, would eventually get boring after trillions of years to the point where life becomes not worth living, then how much sooner would the same be true if you were stuck doing nothing but re-rolling a boulder up a hill for eternity?

And yet folks say that Sisyphus is meant to be this metaphor that we shouldn't look for meaning in our lives, because we won't find any, and instead rebel against the meaninglessness of life by living in spite of it, or living because of it. The struggle itself is enough to "fill the heart" and by finding meaning in your determination, you rise "above the gods" who cursed you to your fate.
 
It sounds contradictory to me: you're finding meaning (reasons to live) in the struggle against meaninglessness (pointlessness of living). Either meaning was there all along, in which case the struggle is misguided, or meaning is impossible, in which case the struggle is futile. You'd have to say that it's exactly the struggle against meaninglessness that is, paradoxically, the only way to generate meaning. But why would only that be capable of generating real meaning? Surely there are many things we do that give us compelling reasons to live.
 
We obviously cannot imagine Sisyphus happy, unless Sisyphus is so irrational or mentally damaged that he can be happy with living a hellish existence.
 
If you really find yourself in a Sisyphean existence, then there are only two rational options: 1) Change your life. 2) End your life.
 
There is no victory in misery. If you're really that miserable, but your ego prevents you from rejecting life because that would mean losing some sense of victory, and so you extend your misery, then ironically you lose all the more.
 
Plus, by viewing death as a pure loss, you set yourself up to lose eventually. I've argued elsewhere we shouldn't guarantee our failure in this way, that we can share in death's victory.
 
The vast majority of people either don't have a Sisyphean existence to begin with, or they strive toward option (1) and reject option (2).
 
The idea that "we shouldn't look for meaning in our lives, because we won't find any" is false. There is objective meaning. More specifically, there are objectively good reasons to live. More specifically, there are smart, rational, intellectually virtuous, well-informed ("fully rational") individuals who choose to live, and are fully within their epistemic rights to do so; they make no mistakes in doing so.
 
To say there are no objectively good reasons to live is to say that if someone were to live strictly according to objective truth, they would have no reason to choose to live over not living. But that's silly. Of course people have good reasons to live, and the weight of these reasons is greater than the weight of the reasons to stop living. When someone lives for their family, friends, personal goals, and what have you, these reasons appeal to fully rational individuals. One explanation for why these reasons appeal to fully rational individuals is because there's something about these reasons that connect them to reality in the right way (or: there's something about these reasons that allow them to connect people to reality).
 
Parents who have children that depend upon them have powerful, obvious reasons to live. There would be something crazy about a parent (or anyone) concluding that because the choice to live is arbitrary, they might as well toss a coin and live if it's heads or die if it's tails. As rational, reasons-sensitive creatures, we consider the pros and cons of living and, clearly, the pros tend to win out.
 
So when I say "Life is objectively meaningful", I mean "When someone says there are no objectively good reasons to live, they say something false."

Of course, there are cases where the reasons to stop living do outweigh the reasons to live, like in the case of Sisyphus where someone is stuck in a hellish existence with no way out. But again, most of us simply do not have lives that are like that. I do acknowledge that there are existential, nihilistic, pessimistic considerations in favor of rejecting life. These put pressure on people to consider ending their life. But that pressure clashes with the pressure to live, such as one's innate biological instincts and one's desire to be happy.
 
Turning to the idea of heaven being boring eventually, this is a straightforward failure of imagination. We have no reason to think God would be bored or could be bored. It's not fitting for a perfect being to be vulnerable to boredom. So we have an example of one being, God, who lives forever and yet never suffers from boredom. If we become more and more godlike in heaven over time, then our resistance to boredom increases asymptotically.
 
Even then, you might argue that because we never truly reach God's perfection, we have the tiniest sliver of vulnerability to boredom, which will eventually be exploited after enough googols of years have passed. Or, you might say that we don't become godlike overtime but stay close to our earthly forms. But that brings me to the next point: even if we don't "become gods" or anything like that, we certainly would be massively changed by the Beatific Vision. For God to prevent us from causing evil, he would have to radically change us, which could happen naturally through our new heavenly environment. Many of the evils that take place on earth (really, all of them) occur because of the laws of nature and how they give rise to laws of biology, survival pressures, social pressures, scarcity of resources, and so on. In a fundamentally different ecosystem, these pressures would not exist, and so we naturally would be shaped into radically different beings. Perhaps we become immune to boredom.

Third point, heaven itself will be radically different from earth. While living in our universe may become unbearable eventually, there's no reason to think this would be the case in a radically different kind of world.
 
Fourth point, if it's simply a worry of running out of things to do, then we could imagine a world where there's an infinite number of meaningful things to do. Imagine explaining to a mayfly how long humans live. "Eighty years?! What on earth do they do with all that time??" There's a lot of things we can do that simpler animals have no conception of. In our heavenly bodies and heavenly world, we could gain access to entire dimensions of activity that we had no conception of before, so that what is a day to our 80 years is like our 80 years to 2.34 million years. Add on a never ending number of dimensions (either literally, as in spatial and temporal dimensions, or figuratively as in layers of complexity in life) and you can get a never ending amount of meaningful activities to do.
 
Fifth point, I suppose the worry is that we are in constant need of novelty, and eventually novelty will be gone. This could be fixed in a number of ways. As mentioned, we could become the kind of creatures that simply do not need novelty. Or we need it and we have an actual infinite amount of it available to us. Or we need it and God resets our knowledge at the right time. We could live multiple lives, only remembering the previous life, while having access to the memories of lives before that if we wish to remember them (such as through something like the pensieve in Harry Potter). With an infinite number of meaningful lives to live, we would never run out of meaning.
 
Or if our lives must become truly unbearable somehow (I don't see how), and there was no way to fix this, then God could end our lives at that point. Heaven would still be (nearly) infinitely better than earth, even in this case.
 
As depressing as it is to say, I think we often fail to realize just how dreary, boring, limited, and painful the real world is compared to better worlds we can imagine. We're so steeped in this world, and so deprived of experiencing different worlds, that it's hard to imagine what a different one would be like.
 
But when I try, I can imagine a world so good to live in that members of that world always prefer being alive and always are alive. (If we can prefer being alive in a world as mediocre as ours, how much more would we feel this way in heaven?) Even something as simple as laying on the ground and looking at the night sky could be so beautiful that we could see ourselves doing even just that forever, not to mention all the more glorious things we could do, like traveling through galaxies and colonizing planets.

Thursday, March 20, 2025

Monoaxiology

I don't care for the term "hedonism", because it's often associated with a selfish pursuit of carnal pleasures. But in philosophy hedonism is the view that the only intrinsic good is positive mental states ('pleasure' or 'happiness'). You could put it as the view that value is necessarily conscious. Without conscious beings, there is no good or evil. So, goodness and badness must be realized consciously. So, the foundation of value, the only intrinsically valuable thing, is conscious experience that is worth it for its own sake – which is happiness.
 
(So consciousness is necessary, but not sufficient, for value. I say not sufficient because we can imagine a “blank” God that has omniscience but experiences no happiness and no pain – if the universe consisted of only this God, then you would have a universe with consciousness but no good and no evil. The blank God is itself extrinsically good in the case that it eventually causes creatures to emerge that generate intrinsic value.)
 
I thought of "monoaxiology" as a replacement term, but it's not great. (How do you use it as an adjective? "Monoaxiological"? Ugh.) Philosophy is full of non-ideal terminology, but... I kind of think language as a whole is like that. We make do with what we have and in the end it's not a big deal. It just means that every time I "defend hedonism", I have to explain that I'm not defending hedonism as a lifestyle, I'm defending a kind of "monoaxiology" – or a view that says there is only one category of intrinsic good, and it's upon this foundation that value is built; all goods ultimately derive their goodness from intrinsic, conscious goods and all evils ultimately derive their badness from intrinsic, conscious evils.
 
Besides being clunky, "monoaxiology" is vague. There is at least one other possible use for the term: the view that there is only one kind of wrongness.
 
Some folks might believe that being wrong / incorrect in an epistemic sense differs from being wrong in a moral sense; being stupid / ignorant / irrational and being evil / immoral / malicious are two totally separate things on this view. I reject this view entirely. I think being irrational and being evil go hand-in-hand. It's just that evil is a specific kind of irrationality. All instances of evil are instances of irrationality / stupidity, but not all instances of irrationality / stupidity are instances of evil. While getting poor test scores indicates a lack of understanding, it does not indicate a lack of moral virtues. As discussed elsewhere, I agree with Socrates that virtue itself is a kind of knowledge or understanding (or, virtue is a disposition that is caused by one's understanding). In both the epistemic sense of being wrong and the moral sense of being wrong, there is a disconnect between the person who is mistaken and reality.
 
So, I accept monoaxiology in both the sense that there is only one intrinsic good and in the sense that being wrong epistemically and being wrong morally are the same.

Wednesday, March 19, 2025

What are we doing when we are doing philosophy? The worldview response

What is philosophy? What are we doing when we do philosophy? There are a number of good (and mutually compatible) answers we can give to this question.

Graham Oppy says the following:

"Philosophy is, I think, primarily a domain of inquiry. . . . I suggest that philosophy is the discipline that addresses questions for which we do not yet know how to produce—and perhaps cannot even imagine how to produce—agreed answers using the methods of other established disciplines." (Four Views on Christianity and Philosophy, Zondervan, 2016, pg 23.)

He goes on to say:

"[worldviews are] comprehensive accounts of our world and our place within that world. In principle,  worldviews are comprehensive normative and descriptive theories. In principle, worldviews are descriptively, explanatorily, ontologically, normatively, methodologically, epistemologically, axiologically, and etiologically complete. In practice, however, what we call "worldviews" are none of these things." (24)

Furthermore:

"One of the most important tasks for philosophy is comparison and adjudication of worldviews. Given our account of worldviews, assessment of competing worldviews must do at least the following three things: (1) it must assess and compare the descriptive components of the competing worldviews; (2) it must assess and compare the normative components of the competing worldviews; and (3) it must assess and compare the fit between descriptive and normative components in the competing worldviews." (24)

Later on, Oppy reiterates:

"One the primary goals—if not the primary goal—for philosophy is evaluation of worldviews." (41)

Continuing:

"When we assess and compare the descriptive components of worldviews, we assess those components in terms of familiar theoretical virtues: simplicity, fit with data, explanatory depth, explanatory breadth, and so forth. When we assess and compare the normative components of worldviews, we also assess those components in terms of familiar theoretical virtues . . . However, in the case of comparison of normative components of worldviews, it is not immediately clear that there is anything that plays the role of data. Some say that we can and should treat intuitions—intuitive judgments—as data when we compare the normative components of worldviews; others say that it is inappropriate to treat intuitions as data." (25)

[As much as I appreciate Oppy's work, sometimes he does this where he acknowledges disagreement on a topic and does not offer his own evaluation, leaving the reader wondering what they are supposed to make of the issue. A simple, "My position is that we can use moral intuitions as data, as I defend in my paper..." would suffice. If Oppy is agnostic on the issue, it might be worth noting that, though you could say this is implied by Oppy's silence. Also, Oppy offers no examples of scholars who support treating intuitions as data and scholars who reject this, leaving the reader with nowhere to turn were they to desire to further explore this question. I believe Terence Cuneo's The Normative Web is a place readers can go to see moral intuitions used as data. I don't know of any philosophers who think moral intuitions should not be used as data.]

Finally, on the dialectical aspect of philosophy:

"Philosophy is a cooperative enterprise between all of the people on the planet. One minimal aim of that enterprise is to improve the worldview of each by allowing the worldview of each to be fairly tested against the worldviews of everyone else." (47)

With the preceding discussion in mind, I'd like to share a few visual metaphors to help us wrap our minds around what we are doing when we are doing philosophy.
I imagine the True Worldview as being this massive planet-sized structure. My worldview is represented by that little cyan dot. Think of our sun next to Pluto. The red stuff represents all the true facts that are not included in my worldview. Thus, it represents my ignorance. As humbling as this picture is, we can get even humbler by noting that the cyan dot is not drawn to scale. Really, it shouldn't be visible. When we zoom into the cyan part, we find something like this:


Here is a chunk of my worldview. Worldviews are complex, multidimensional theories made up of layers of concepts, propositions, and conclusions. The blue cubes represent things that I believe that are false. The gray cubes represent things I believe that are true – that overlap with the True Worldview. Really, we should see red, gray, and blue streaks and spots permeating blocks to represent how many of our beliefs are a mix of true, false, and a lack of truth.

Of course, worldviews are made out of propositions, not shapes, but the blocks nicely represent the kind of building out of our beliefs that we engage in. As we learn more, we add more blocks. One way to define what it means for an argument to be successful is for an argument to cause someone to gain a gray block or to change one of their blue blocks into a gray one (and to do so not by accident, but by the proper interaction between the logic of the argument, the truth of the premises, and the rationality of the evaluator of the argument).

Here is another humbling visual metaphor:

The True Worldview:


My worldview:


Credit:
https://www.vecteezy.com/photo/28859215-futuristic-city-at-night-with-skyscrapers-and-high-rise-buildings
https://www.pexels.com/photo/white-and-red-shed-2869503/

Here we can think of our worldviews as a house we are building for ourselves to live in. We indeed "live" in our worldviews in a sense. As we build out our worldviews, they grow in size and complexity. Just as we outgrow the small bedrooms we grow up in, we outgrow the worldview we started with.

When we zoom out and see the big picture in this way, it can seem like our worldviews are truly pitiful. But I think this isn't the right way to think. Instead of focusing on how hopeless it is for us to get anywhere close to the True Worldview, there are two very important things to keep in mind:

1) The vast majority of information included in the True Worldview is utterly irrelevant to our lives. We do not need all that information to flourish.

2) We should compare our current worldview to the one we started with. When we focus on how far we've come, we see the incredible progress we have made as individuals. By keeping things in perspective in this way, not only do we avoid falling into a kind of epistemic despair, but we can even come to really admire what we've accomplished. While our worldviews are sheds and shacks compared to what's out there, they are mansions and castles compared to where we've been. How cool!

So what is philosophy? Three components:

1) Philosophy is the practice of building theories in an effort to understand the world and how we ought to live in it. All your theories put together form your worldview.

2) Philosophy is the practice of taking responsibility for your worldview. It means playing an active role in forming your beliefs rather than just blindly adopting the beliefs of those around you, or believing whatever is most socially convenient for you to believe, or outsourcing your thinking to a "thought leader." Philosophy is about thinking for yourself.

3) Philosophy is a dialectic – an investigation by dialogue. Philosophy cannot be done well, or really even at all, as a solo adventure. Philosophy, at its best, involves community, communication (including: meeting people where they are at, meaning, adjusting your communication to account for the needs and knowledge of the person you're speaking with), and the subjecting of one's beliefs to scrutiny from others, as scary as that may be. If you can't convince reasonable, well-informed folks of your beliefs, or at least convince them that your beliefs are respectable, then perhaps your beliefs are mistaken. The simplest way to know a theory has strength is this: because reasonable, well-informed folks are convinced the theory has strength.

While it's important to form your own conclusions and not be easily swayed by public opinion, it's also important to give due deference to experts, and to be aware of just how much work will be cut out for you if you were to argue against the dominant beliefs of your time. Of course, in philosophy, just about any meaningful claim is controversial, so our work is cut out for all of us.

Philosophy therefore involves reading philosophy, writing philosophy, and having philosophical conversations. And, it involves doing these things a lot. We have a common saying: "Practice, practice, practice." Philosophy is no exception. Like any good work, it can be grueling. But if you love it, it will give you as much energy as it takes, and it will give you life.

But what does "philosophy" refer to in the phrase "reading philosophy"? In that case, 'philosophy' refers to written works of philosophy. So the word is truly polysemous. There are even more components to philosophy than these.

Monday, March 17, 2025

The problem of epistemic injustice

There are countless false beliefs that run through people's heads every day. This has been going on since there have been propositional thoughts, and will go on for as long as there are propositional thoughts. Many of these false beliefs cause horrendous suffering. Many of these false beliefs are accompanied by a mistaken certainty.
 
It's disturbing how so many false beliefs go uncorrected. Even when false beliefs have no bad consequences, there's still something ugly about their falseness, and that ugliness is cemented by the fact that the record is never set straight for those who believed mistakenly.
 
To really feel the ugliness of it: Every moment that passes "updates" our universe. Each update reinforces history, reality. Every update reaffirms the falseness of the belief, reaffirms that the belief is mistakenly believed, or was believed, reaffirms the mistaken confidence in the false belief, and reaffirms the lack of correction and the lack of setting things straight. Some things do get set straight. But when a person dies, all their false beliefs remain false forever with respect to that person – the dead never find out that they were wrong.
 
There's just something upsetting about it – the injustice of it.

Sunday, March 16, 2025

Anna Nyman - "Moral Principles: A Challenge for Deniers of Moral Luck" (2024)

The problem of moral luck has its origins, at least in its modern conception, with Thomas Nagel. 

The author notes: "A familiar understanding of the problem of moral luck has it that it consists in a contradiction to which common-sense ideas about moral responsibility seem to commit us: that moral luck exists and that it does not." (Anna Nyman, 177)

I wonder if this paradox just is the paradox of blaming the human qua person vs blaming the human qua organism? In one sense we are not blameworthy at all – in the sense of moral blame, which is the sense of whether there is anything bad we can say about the soul itself. I argue that we cannot judge souls; souls are passengers, experiencing life. Even our choices are just experiences. On a more epiphenomenal interpretation, our choices are literally just experiences; we don't cause anything. On a more common sensical interpretation, we do in fact cause things and we do make choices, but in doing so we are merely experiencing the decision making qualities that have been handed to us by nature and nurture. Either way, we merely experience our choices and cannot be blamed for them, not in the sense of judging the poor soul (or the happy soul) who gets to enjoy (or suffers from) the choices they will make, borne out of the poor qualities of nature and/or nurture surrounding the soul that the soul had no control over.

But in another sense we are totally blameworthy. You can acknowledge the goodness or badness of these qualities. And in this sense of critical blame, we can legitimately criticise people. But we aren't criticizing their souls; those we (should) feel nothing but sympathy (or envy) for. We legitimately criticize people in the sense that we legitimately evaluate the goodness or badness of the qualities that people happen to have, but cannot be identified with. You have the quality of being young, smart, attractive, kind, selfish, narcissistic, jealous, or what have you, but you are not identified with these qualities. These qualities are part of you, or associated with you, or you possess or have them, but you are not identical to them. You are identical to yourself, which is a pure subject, a self, the self which is not only right in front of you, but is the front in front of all fronts.

The classic case of moral luck that I believe is from Nagel is the two drivers who drive recklessly. Both drivers selfishly take on the chance of getting someone hurt just so they can have some fun. One driver crashes into another car, killing an innocent person. The other driver does no damage to anything. Intuitively, the driver that actually caused damage is more blameworthy than the driver that did not (they are the one who goes to jail). And yet, both drivers committed the same selfish act. So intuitively, both drivers are equal in their guilt.

Our author today gives examples of assassins. Both assassins intend to kill for money. One succeeds. The other does not because a bird flies in the way, taking the hit. Again, both perpetrators had the exact same evil intention. But because of chance events, only one evil act is actually completed, and it's this assassin that takes the greater blame. If the assassin that fails has the better moral character, it's only thanks to the luck of having a bird fly through at the right moment. Intuitively, this lucky moral character should count for nothing in terms of moral value.

Our author gives three examples of moral luck (thought experiments are mine, though I'm sure I've heard similar versions elsewhere):

Resultant moral luck: this is the assassin or the reckless driver as described above.

Circumstantial moral luck: imagine two people come across a wallet full of cash. One has a great job and is doing well financially. He returns the wallet. The other is homeless and broke. He takes the money. 

The person who returns the wallet does the right thing. But if they do the right thing purely because of the good fortune of their circumstances, where's the moral value in that?

Likewise, for the person who takes the money, if they would have returned the wallet under different circumstances, then how does their taking the money disparage their moral character when it's the circumstances, not their character, that causes the difference in action?

Constitutive moral luck: again imagine two people come across a wallet full of cash. Neither person needs the money. One takes it anyway because he enjoys the thrill of getting away with things. The other returns the wallet because he would have a guilty conscience otherwise.

Again, the person who returns the wallet does the right thing, but only because their constitution was so shaped by nature and nurture. They were raised by morally upright parents and taught that stealing is wrong, maybe they recently had their own wallet stolen giving them a sense of empathy, their brain structure is such that they have a strong sense of conscience, and so on.

The person who takes the money does the wrong thing, but only because they were unlucky enough to have their dispositions shaped by unfortunate life circumstances.

Because your constitution is a result of circumstances, I don't see why we couldn't just subsume constitutive luck under circumstantial luck? While we're at it, resultant luck could be described in terms of circumstances as well, like the circumstances of a bird flying through the air at the right moment. Even if a circumstance was purely result-based, like in radioactive decay, then you still have the circumstances of the decay happening this moment rather than another. So it seems like we could solidly fit "resultant luck" under circumstantial luck. 
 
But calling luck circumstantial seems like a redundancy, considering what it means to be lucky just is to have circumstances in your favor that are beyond your control. So it seems to me that we can simplify all the above terms (Resultant moral luck; Circumstantial moral luck; Constitutive moral luck) to just one: moral luck. How are these distinctions meant to be useful?

What it means to be "committed" to moral luck is to be committed to the idea that the person who does the right thing really is praiseworthy, despite doing the right thing only by good luck. 

(Assuming being a morally good person is a lucky thing to be. You could argue that there are circumstances where being a morally good person is very unlucky, because it will cause you to fight against evil and die a horrible death.) 

And, the person who does the wrong thing really is blameworthy, despite doing the wrong thing only by bad luck.

Contrast this commitment to a commitment to the control principle, which says that "agents are responsible for something only to the extent that it depends on factors within their control" (Anna Nyman, 179).

These are the two clashing intuitions...

(L) people are praiseworthy / blameworthy despite moral luck. 

(The assassin that hits their target really is more blameworthy than the assassin who misses.)

(C) people are only praiseworthy / blameworthy if they are in control.

(Both assassins are equally blameworthy or blameless.)

...that form the paradox of moral luck.

And yes, I see my distinction between kinds of persons as an immediate solution to the moral luck problem. I absolutely deny L and affirm C. But I affirm L in a critical sense. I can acknowledge the badness of a hurricane without blaming any person. Likewise, I can acknowledge the badness (or goodness) of (dispositions, constitution, brain structure, sensitivity to reasons, upbringing, traumas, genetics, psychological factors... basically, nature and nurture) that a person has without blaming the person per se.

It's confusing because we use terms like "blame" and "praise" both in the sense of "attributing sourcehood" and in the sense of "regarding with awe or spite."

It's important that we separate these two senses. I call one set "moral" praise and blame and the other set "critical" praise and blame. Though, we could call moral praise and blame "praise and blame" and call critical praise and blame "love and hatred" or "awe and criticism" or "celebration and condemnation" or "beholding the goodness / badness of."

Here's a picture of things that might illuminate what I am imagining.

Imagine that souls begin in heaven. God speaks to us and says, "Do you want to go down there? Down to earth?" 

Some of us say no and stay behind in heaven. Some say yes and are let down to earth. 

"What will it be like if I go down there?", one soul asks.

God says, "Well, you will possess the body and brain of a man named John Smith. You will be a coal miner working for a company town. Your miserable and unfair working conditions will make you a terrible person, and you will become abusive to your wife and children. Alcohol becomes your only escape and you die middle-aged from liver failure."

And the soul responds, "That sounds, uh, bad. I don't want to do that."

And God says, "Too bad" and the poor soul is flung down to earth.

(God is not a good guy in this story.)

The poor soul proceeds to do all the things God said it would do. The soul is just a witness to its own choices and experiences.

Question: is anything the man does the fault of the soul? No. The soul is just the unlucky subject that happens to be attached to the poor body, poor brain, and poor circumstances of the doomed miner. (And the souls attached to his abused family members are likewise unlucky.)

(This is not to advocate for substance dualism. The point is to show that subjectivity itself is on the receiving end of the body it's attached to. If it's true that the quality of your brain is something that happens to you, and is not your fault, then the poor quality of the soul's choices, caused by the brain, are not the soul's fault either.)

Continuing with the article:

Per the author, "The most popular strategy is to abandon the particular moral responsibility judgments", that is, to accept C and reject L. (Nyman, 179)

However, abandoning moral responsibility judgments sounds like... free will skepticism! If someone abandons all moral responsibility judgments, doesn't that amount to endorsing free will skepticism? But if someone abandons only some moral responsibility judgments but not others, how do you tell which judgments are worthy of abandonment and which aren't? Where do you draw the line? Is this the problem that Nyman is pointing out?

I will quote an extended passage that gets at the heart of the issue:
I believe, however, that consistently denying moral luck is harder than previously recognized, because there seems to be little room for denying that certain factors are both beyond agents’ control and affect moral responsibility. Consider, for instance, the truth of principles about moral responsibility and the deontic status of actions. It is beyond an agent’s control that a correct moral principle condemns a certain action of hers as wrong, and yet the principle’s condemning it surely affects her moral responsibility in that it is because the principle is true that she will, given that she fulfils conditions for moral responsibility, be blameworthy for the action rather than praiseworthy. Likewise, it is beyond an agent’s control that a correct moral principle says that agents who act as she does are blameworthy for what they do rather than praiseworthy. Yet the principle’s saying so plainly affects her moral responsibility in that it is because the principle is true that she is blameworthy rather than praiseworthy. Thus, since moral principles are both beyond agents’ control and affect moral responsibility, it would seem that quite a bit of moral luck exists. (179-80)
(Emphasis mine.)
 
First, I accept the point that moral principles are indeed beyond our control. Consider a pair of individuals. One subscribes to what Nietzsche would refer to as a "slave morality," where virtue is identified with a lack of imposing oneself onto others, poverty, kindness, and non-violence. The other subscribes to a "master morality", where virtue is identified with domination, possessing material goods, and power. The person who happens to be born into peasantry is conveniently placed in the path of slave morality. The person who happens to be born into royalty is conveniently placed in the path of master morality.

I don't know if Nietzsche would make this point, but I would say that it's mighty convenient when your ethics match up with what comes easiest to you. We should be highly suspicious of such ethics. And yet, surely there are true ethical principles (assuming moral realism is true). And surely for some people those principles will line up with their circumstances such that they find it easy to be an objectively good person, whereas someone in different circumstances finds it much harder, through no fault of their own.

I don't see how this is any different from constitutive moral luck. After all, didn't we have true moral principles in mind when we were discussing the luck of ending up with a good constitution? And the luck of ending up with a good constitution is a matter of circumstance. In a footnote the author mentions that we can think of moral principle luck as circumstantial luck.

The slave/master morality scenario could be given as an example of constitutive luck: the meek peasant is constituted a decent person while the ambitious prince, say, is constituted a tyrant. Which one counts as the decent person and the other the moral failure is a matter of what the true moral principles happen to be.

So the angle of the luck of moral principles does give us another perspective through which to look at things, another level of non-control we have as moral agents. Needless to say, that fits well with free will skepticism, even if it doesn't really add any new evidence for free will skepticism, given that it's just moral luck rotated to reveal another surface.

I suppose you could take this opportunity to argue that a prince who takes on a slave morality out of their own sensitivity to reasons is demonstrating free will, given how they are "going out of their way" to adopt a certain ethical system. In this case, the prince is not adopting an ethical system out of convenience, but conviction.

However, this does nothing to give the prince any moral praiseworthiness, beyond the awe or admiration discussed earlier. The reason is because while it looks like the prince is using his free will to overcome his bias, in fact there are inputs that shape the prince's morality just like everything else, inputs beyond his control.

People who "overcome their circumstances" or "rise above their inclinations" – language pro-free-will folks use – in reality it's the intelligence and empathy, features of the brain, that cause the prince to feel the way he does to the point that it would be harder for him to take on a different ethical system. He is still very much acting within his natural inclinations.

Back to the task at hand: if moral principles are out of our control, and yet affect our moral responsibility, then there is moral luck, and a lot of it. Yes, I accept this, in one sense, and reject it in another. Whether someone has high moral qualities and is thus admirable (in the same way a beautiful vista is admirable) is a matter of luck. True moral principles determine which qualities are really "high" versus "poor." But whether someone, as a pure subject, is blameworthy in the sense of at fault or being the cause of or the source of despite having no control – that I reject wholeheartedly, and in that sense I "abandon all moral responsibility judgments." And so free will skepticism, combined with a bifurcated view of the self, solves moral luck quite nicely.
 
Now, calling them moral qualities might cause confusion, but it shouldn't. No, they are not moral qualities in the sense of indicating blameworthiness or praiseworthiness on the part of the soul. But they are moral qualities in the sense of qualities that pertain to moral contexts – rationality, sensitivity to reasons, reasonableness, kindness, level-headedness, selflessness, and so on. While these are admirable moral qualities, it is a matter of luck to what degree any person possesses any of them at any time, and so we cannot fairly attribute credit to the souls that happen to have them. That doesn't reduce the goodness (hence, the admirability) of having these qualities, as these qualities lead to flourishing for the person who has them and for those around them. (Generally this is true. As mentioned, in theory being virtuous could be hazardous to your health. You could have a tyrant who wants to crush all kind people, in which case being kind threatens your flourishing. But obviously this hazard only exists ultimately because of a lack of kindness – a lack in the tyrant.)

At this point, I don't feel the need to continue discussing the article here. At the end, the author acknowledges that free will skepticism solves the problem of relevant differences, but also notes that most deniers of moral luck will find free will skepticism an unattractive option. Free will skepticism, however, is a highly attractive option, and its ability to neatly solve the moral luck paradox, and a host of other problems, is why.