How to be a better atheist

I'm going to comment on article by David Lewis. 

http://www.andrewmbailey.com/dkl/Penal_Substitution.pdf

Lewis was reputedly the most brilliant philosopher of his generation. In addition, he was a militant atheist. 

Imagine that an offender has a devoted and innocent friend. The offender has been justly sentenced to be punished for his offence. But the friend volunteers to be punished in his place. If the friend undergoes the punishment that the offender deserved, does that render it permissible (or even obligatory) to leave the offender unpunished? Is that any reason at all in favour of sparing the offender? Mostly we think not.
A one-sided diet of mundane examples might convince us that we do not believe in penal substitution; we agree, in other words, that the substitutionary punishment of the innocent friend is never any reason to leave the offender unpunished. But of course we do not all agree to this. For many among us are Christians; and many among the Christians explain the Atonement as a case of penal substitution. They say that when Christ died for our sins, He paid the debt of punishment that the sinners owed; and thereby He rendered it permissible, and thereby He brought it about, that the sinners (those of them that accepted His gift) were spared the punishment of damnation that they deserved.
Although these Christians do believe in penal substitution in the context of theology, they do not seem to believe anything out of the ordinary in the context of mundane criminal justice. We do not hear of them arguing that just as Christ paid the debt of punishment owed by all the sinners, so likewise other innocent volunteers can pay the lesser debts of punishment owed by burglars and murderers. (‘Innocent’ not in the sense that they are without sin, but only in the sense that they are not guilty of burglary or murder.) Why not? I think we must conclude that these Christians are of two minds about penal substitution. Their principles alter from one case to another, for no apparent reason.
An impatient doubter might say that it is pointless to rebuke these Christians for their on-again-off-again belief in penal substitution. The prior problem lies elsewhere. Even if their (sometime) principle of penal substitution were right, and even if they themselves accepted it single-mindedly, still they would be misapplying it. For in the case of the Atonement, the supposed substitution is far from equal. Evil though it is to be put to death by crucifixion, even if the death is temporary and foreseen to be temporary, still the eternal damnation of even one sinner, let alone all of them, is a far worse evil. How can the former be a fair exchange for the latter, even if we grant in general that such exchanges make sense?
Those Christians who explain the Atonement as a case of penal substitution, yet do not in general believe in the principle they invoke, really are in a bad way.

i) Suppose we find penal substitution morally counterintuitive? Does anything of consequence follow from that impression? Unless our moral intuitions are consistently reliable, how much mileage, if any, can Lewis get out of that conclusion? 

In denying that our moral intuitions are consistently reliable, I don't have to invoke a theological premise (not that there's anything wrong with doing so–especially in this theologically freighted context). Rather, there are secular philosophers like Lewis who take that position. For instance, one standard argument for moral skepticism is the empirical fact that smart, well-meaning people often disagree about what's morally permissible on a whole raft of issues. Now, that, by itself, is not a knock-down argument. But it does mean there's no presumption in favor of Lewis's starting-point. 

Likewise, philosophers are fond of concocting thought-experiments which create ethical dilemmas (e.g. the Trolly problem, the fat man, the ticking time-bomb). These are designed to challenge our moral intuitions. 

I'm not invoking the noetic effects of sin or divine inscrutability. To the contrary, I'm citing considerations from secular ethics. 

Incidentally, to deny that our moral intuitions are consistently reliable doesn't mean our moral intuitions must be consistently unreliable. Sometimes I think our moral intuitions are right on target. At other times we're unsure of ourselves. And it's possible to be certain, but certainly wrong. 

ii) What's the force of Lewis's intuitive appeal? Let's compare moral intuition to another kind of intuition. Suppose I'm a poker player. I intuit that my opponent is bluffing. He feigns a winning hand, but he has a weak hand. In that situation, I can test my intuition by calling his bluff. There's an objective check on my intuition. By forcing him to show his hand, I find out whether or not my intuition was accurate. Likewise, if I'm a successful poker player, I have a track record of reading my opponent. I get it right more often than not.

But moral intuitions deal with intangibles. What's the standard of comparison? There is no external check. You can contrast your moral intuitions with my moral intuitions, but what's to broker competing moral intuitions? Comparing moral intuitions to other moral intuitions is circular.  

From a Christian standpoint, we can test our moral intuitions against revealed moral norms. But Lewis denies that frame of reference. 

ii) Another problem with Lewis's argument is that even if we grant that penal substitution overall strikes us as morally counterintuitive, there are elements of the package which many people find intuitively appealing or even compelling. 

To take a comparison, suppose a sniper comes to school, determined to shoot everyone in sight. Suppose he corners two students who happen to be best friends. Suppose one of them interposes himself between the sniper and his friend, thereby taking a bullet for his friend. He dies to save his friend. Dies to buy him just enough time to get out of range.

Most of us consider that morally praiseworthy. The altruistic student was a hero. He died in place of his best friend. So there's nothing morally counterintuitive about dying to benefit another. That's a paradigm-case of moral heroism. 

If he could, the survivor would repay his friend, but, of course, his friend is dead. Unavailable. However, the mother of the dead student lost her only son when he sacrificed himself to protect his best friend. As a result, the survivor feels a duty to his late friend's mother. This despite the fact that she's not his mother. But because he feels morally indebted to his late friend, he feels an obligation to look out for her as if she was his own mother. The moral indebtedness transfers from his friend to his friend's mother. 

iii) Yet another problem with Lewis's argument is that it plays on tactic assumptions about how humans view themselves. We think it's unjust or unfair for the innocent to take the place of the guilty, even if that's voluntary. Remember, though, that Lewis is an atheist. That's why he's attacking this central Christian doctrine. 

But in that event, we need to back up and view ourselves from a secular perspective. We need to help Lewis become a better atheist. Approach the issue from a thoroughly and self-consciously secular perspective. Here's how Lewis frames the issue:   

Imagine that an offender has a devoted and innocent friend. The offender has been justly sentenced to be punished for his offence. But the friend volunteers to be punished in his place. If the friend undergoes the punishment that the offender deserved, does that render it permissible (or even obligatory) to leave the offender unpunished? Is that any reason at all in favour of sparing the offender? Mostly we think not.

But let's unpack that in secular terms: 

Imagine that a guilty primate has a devoted and innocent primate friend. The friend volunteers to be punished in his place. If the friend undergoes the punishment that the offender deserved, does that render it permissible (or even obligatory) to leave the offender unpunished? Is that any reason at all in favour of sparing the offender?

In terms of naturalistic evolution, the offender is an animal. A primate.  

But are animals innocent or guilty? Is that even meaningful? 

Even assuming that an animal is innocent, are you wronging the innocent animal by taking its life? If one animal takes the place of another, is that a miscarriage of justice? 

Suppose I'm a farmer. A rat is killing my chicks. I set a trap. But I catch the wrong rat. I catch an "innocent" rat–innocent in the sense that the rat that took the bait wasn't the rat that was killing my chicks? Morally speaking, does it make any difference if the dead rat was innocent or guilty? In the end, it's just a rat. 

Now, Lewis might object that a human is higher up the evolutionary ladder than a rat, so even if taking the life of an "innocent"rat is morally innocuous, the same doesn't follow in the case of an innocent human. 

But strictly speaking, humans aren't higher up the evolutionary ladder. Evolution is not progressive. Evolution is not a goal-oriented process. 

Perhaps, though, Lewis would say humans are more complex animals, with additional, morally salient properties. If so, he'd need to turn that into an actual argument. He's not entitled to take for granted the moral status of human animals. Is there anything to morally intuit in the first place?

iv) Let's consider this from another, related angle. He's appealing to the moral intuitions of primate. That's all a human is, from his perspective. What does that amount to? The moral "intuitions" of a primate are euphemistic for the moral instincts of a primate. Why should we put any stock in the moral instincts of a primate? 

Lewis says: "Imagine that an offender has a devoted and innocent friend…But the friend volunteers to be punished in his place." And who does the imagining? Lewis is a primate who's appealing to his fellow primates (the reader) to assess whether or not that's an ethical way to treat a primate. But why should the opinions of one primate about the plight of another primate carry any moral weight? Even if natural selection has conditioned us to care about members of our own species, how is that instinctual empathy a moral fact? How is that different from one animal viewing another animal as food? How is the physical brain state of an animal morally probative? 

From a naturalistic standpoint, is instinctual behavior moral? From a naturalistic standpoint, would it not be more consistent to admit that instinctual behavior is amoral? Instinct is simply the effect of a blind evolutionary process that inadvertently promotes adaptive behavior. Is that moral? One organism survives at the expense of another organism. Is that moral–or amoral? Would it not be more consistent for Lewis to admit that nature is beyond good and evil? 

v) Lewis says "Christians who explain the Atonement as a case of penal substitution, yet do not in general believe in the principle they invoke, really are in a bad way." One problem with that objection is that Lewis isn't judging the general principle directly. Rather, he's attempting to judge the general principle by specific examples which supposedly illustrate the general principle. But in that case, he's not really judging the general principle itself, in the abstract. Rather, he's evaluating illustrations. The argument is only as good as the counterintutive nature of the illustrations, and not the counterintuitive nature of the general principle. Even assuming that the illustrations are sufficiently analogous. But the problem with that tactic is that our intuitive response varies with the particular illustration. Changing the illustration may change our intuitive response. 

vi) There's another oddity to Lewis's argument. He objects to the vicarious atonement of Christ on the grounds that the innocent party didn't deserve to be punished. But that's a presupposition of vicarious atonement. Of course Christ didn't deserve to be punished! That's the point. By definition, the innocent party is undeserving of punishment. That's why the innocent party dies in the guilty party's stead. If they were both guilty, it wouldn't be redemptively substitutionary. For it's not just one party taking the place of another, but an innocent party taking the place of a guilty party. Only an innocent party can redeem the guilty party. Only an innocent party can assume that redemptive role. 

Lewis's objection is simply paraphrasing vicarious atonement. A description. But vicarious atonement takes that for granted. So it's not as if Lewis has uncovered an internal contradiction in vicarious atonement. To the contrary, vicarious atonement deliberately trades on the dialectical and antithetical relationship between the two parties. 

vii) Lewis says:

Although these Christians do believe in penal substitution in the context of theology, they do not seem to believe anything out of the ordinary in the context of mundane criminal justice. We do not hear of them arguing that just as Christ paid the debt of punishment owed by all the sinners, so likewise other innocent volunteers can pay the lesser debts of punishment owed by burglars and murderers. (‘Innocent’ not in the sense that they are without sin, but only in the sense that they are not guilty of burglary or murder.) Why not? I think we must conclude that these Christians are of two minds about penal substitution. Their principles alter from one case to another, for no apparent reason.
For in the case of the Atonement, the supposed substitution is far from equal. Evil though it is to be put to death by crucifixion, even if the death is temporary and foreseen to be temporary, still the eternal damnation of even one sinner, let alone all of them, is a far worse evil. How can the former be a fair exchange for the latter, even if we grant in general that such exchanges make sense?

That's because it's not reducible to one issue. Rather, it's a relation between two issues. Not just what happens, but who it happens to. By whom and for whom. It does matter who did it. It does matter on who's behalf it happens. 

Personal relationships can be morally germane. Personal relationships can generate unilateral or mutual obligations. Take my example of the dead friend's mother. She did nothing to obligate the survivor. That was her son's doing. But her son's action ends up obligating a boy who is not her son. And he didn't even consent to that transaction. Indeed, it happened against his will. He didn't want to see his best friend gunned down.