moral propositions are true or false; the problem is method

(Washington, DC) Moral propositions are true or false. For example, “Genocide is evil” is a true statement. If you disagree with it, you’re wrong. So I believe, and so do most moral philosophers. This assumption violates the fact/value distinction that we teach kids as early as elementary school. We teach them that values are opinions, in contrast to facts. But I as little doubt that genocide is wrong as I doubt Newton’s laws of motion or the existence of the chair on which I sit right now. If the chair turned out to be an illusion, I wouldn’t be thoroughly crazy. If I started to favor genocide, I would be.

So what leads people to the theoretical view that moral propositions are mere opinions, neither true nor false? The problem is one of method.

We believe in natural facts because from our earliest days, nature is obdurate. Fire burns, and we form a solid belief that the fire has caused our pain. The same sensory perceptions and logical premises that we use to reach such simple conclusions also underlie scientific method, which extends our knowledge vastly, pays practical dividends, and sometimes generates counter-intuitive findings that turn out to be correct. We are almost all naturalists now, believing that science (broadly defined) yields truth, and that what is true is what science yields.

With morality, we also draw firm impressions about vivid cases. Even if you are skeptical about moral truth (in theory), you will feel with virtual certainty that it is wrong to kill someone in cold blood for one’s own amusement. You may have convinced yourself that “wrong” is just an opinion, or just an instinct inbred by natural selection, but you will oppose cold-blooded murder with as much certainty as you believe in cause-and-effect or the persistence of objects in nature.

But many other cases are more ambiguous. We know that our moral knowledge is unreliable, because we disagree with one another and because our assumptions have changed over time. For many centuries, virtually everyone (female as well as male) believed that men were superior to women in many respects. Now I and many others are sure that was wrong. But if I had been born 200 years ago, I would have been mistaken about gender. If I had been born a gentile German around 1900, I assume that I would have supported Hitler in 1939, because almost everyone did.

When we study nature, we also face ambiguity and commit errors. Like moral views, scientific theories change. It’s just that with morality, we lack an agreed-upon method for addressing uncertainty and correcting error.

That is not to say that we lack methods altogether. Philosophers often propose them. For example, John Rawls proposed developing the rules of a just society while imagining that one does not know one’s own circumstances. Putting oneself behind an imaginary “veil of ignorance,” as Rawls suggested, is a method.

But the reception of Rawls is characteristic of philosophy. Critics quickly said that too many moral assumptions were built into his method. You had to be a liberal individualist, they said, to endorse the method that led Rawls to his liberal conclusions. Moral methodology doesn’t seem separable from substantive moral views.

I acknowledge that problem, and I don’t think we are likely to find a moral method that wins consensus and  solves one controversy after another. But it doesn’t follow that morality is mere opinion. Alas, moral propositions are true or false and yet we have no agreed-upon way to know which is which in a range of ambiguous situations.

games that produce deliberative judgment: CommunityPlanIT in Detroit and Quincy, MA

Our colleague Eric Gordon, who runs the Engagement Game Lab, builds game-like environments that encourage people to discuss public issues in ways that are fun and motivating. The games also yield really good data for civil servants who want public input and enhance citizens’ relationships with each other.

Here are citizens playing a game that Eric built to collect public input for the Boston Public Schools. Parts of the game were played online and other parts were face-to-face.

At its heart, the game was a discussion of issues and priorities, but participants earned points and powers by completing various missions–all of which strengthened the dialogue. Eric sometimes builds role-playing into games, because pretending you are a fictional character can be a spur to thinking about civic issues.

Version of CommunityPlanIT will be played in Detroit, MI, starting on May 7, and in Quincy, MA, starting tomorrow. If you happen to reside in one of those towns, you should play. If you live anywhere and are interested in civic engagement, this is an experiment to follow.

Tennessee becomes the first state to use projects to assess civics

(Chicago) On April 27, the Tennessee legislature passed a bill that will require school districts to assess their students’ knowledge of civics by giving them assignments that are “student-influenced” and that involve an “inquiry process structured around complex, authentic questions and carefully designed products and tasks.” These assignments will be used (once in grades 4-8 and a second time in grades 9-12) in lieu of written tests to find out whether Tennessee’s students can “demonstrate understanding and relevance of public policy, the structure of federal, state and local governments and both the Tennessee and the Untied States constitutions.”

The bill doesn’t (and shouldn’t) specify what the assignments will be like, but I hope that many Tennessee students will choose issues of concern to them in their own communities, investigate those issues using rigorous research, and develop plans for improving their communities.

Testing and accountability generally pose a dilemma for civic education. If we don’t test civic knowledge and skills, they become afterthoughts in education, especially in schools where lots of kids are at risk of failing the subjects that are tested. But if we impose a new test, then (1) it becomes yet another way for students to fail, and (2) it encourages teachers to focus on the basic facts of government that are likely to be tested, even though there’s little evidence that learning these facts is motivating or that kids retain them later.

Project-based assessments are much more promising. Kids will have to do something with their civic knowledge, something that seems important to them. At a minimum, Tennessee’s bill is a very worthy experiment. The questions will be: What do kids learn? What kinds of instruction become common? And how reliable is the assessment?

If the experiment works out really well, then civics could cease to be an afterthought and could instead become an excellent means to assess general student performance. After all, if you can complete a complex project involving social issues and governance, you must have good academic skills.

Credit apparently belongs to the indefatigable Justice Sandra Day O’Connor, who met with two leading state legislators (Sen. Mark Norris and Rep. Kevin Brooks) earlier this year to encourage them to do something for civics. With the help of Janis Keyser, Executive Director of the Tennessee Center for Civic Learning & Engagement, the legislators wrote a really foresighted bill that passed in less than three months.

where should college students vote?

(Chicago) I am here for a meeting about voting and education laws and how they affect youth. One issue is college students’ voting. If your family home is in one community, but you reside in another town while you attend college, you generally have a legal right to choose either of these places to vote.

Sometimes state officials try to discourage students from voting in their college towns by disseminating scary messages about the consequences. For instance, Maine warns that voting in that state means establishing residency there, and if you are a resident, you must transfer your driver’s license to Maine. “Driving without a Maine license more than 90 days after you have established residency in the state is a crime.” I am very suspicious of these messages, especially when they come without any notice that you have a right to vote where you attend college and that voting is a valued civic act.

But even though you have a legal right to choose where to vote, you should make the choice responsibly. Voting is always an ethical decision, because it doesn’t actually pay off for the individual. (Too many other people get to vote as well.) It only makes sense to vote for what you think is right. And for residential college students, a preliminary question is: where is it right to vote?

One approach would go like this. First, pick the party and candidates that are best for the country. Then cast your vote wherever is (a) legal and (b) most effective. For example, vote in a swing state if you have that choice. The core ethical question is whom to support; where to vote is just a means to that end.

If you do not happen to be a college student who has a choice about where to register, you should advocate for students on your side of the political debate to vote where it counts most, and you should hope that students on the other side are not so sophisticated.

That’s one way of looking at the matter. It neglects a different set of considerations. People are eligible to vote in their communities (not anywhere they choose) because they have a stake there. Decisions made at the community level affect them. They are supposed to exercise their citizenship in full—not just voting for presidential and congressional candidates but also following the local news, discussing issues, and participating in public work so that their experiences inform their political decisions.

If that’s your view of citizenship, then the primary question is where you are most informed and committed. This may either be your hometown or your college town. Which one is in a battleground state should not be a major consideration.

A 2004 survey suggested that undergraduates shift from generally registering at home in their freshman year to generally registering in their college towns as seniors. If they should vote where they are most committed and knowledgeable, that is an appropriate trend.

Edmund Burke would vote Democratic

Edmund Burke stands for the proposition that the status quo is likely better than any ambitious reform. Even if current institutions are based on unjust or foolish general principles, they have gradually evolved as a result of many people’s deliberate work, so that they now embody some wisdom. People have accommodated themselves to the existing rules and structures, learned to live with them and plan around them, and have woven more complex wholes around the parts given by laws and theories. Meanwhile, proposed reforms are almost always flawed by limited information, ignorance of context, and downright arrogance. In politics, as in medicine, the chief principle should be: “First, do no harm.”

In any debate, the Burkean conservative position is worth serious consideration. I come down on that side pretty often. And given the alternatives, I almost always vote for the Burkean political party in the United States, which is the Democratic Party.

It is the Democrats, after all, whose main goal is to defend the public institutions built between 1900 and 1960: neighborhood public schools, state universities, regulated capital markets, federal health programs, science funding, affirmative action, and the like, against untested alternatives based in the abstract theories of neoliberalism. Importantly, Democrats defend existing institutions without heartily endorsing them. A typical Democratic position goes something like this: Neighborhood public schools are inequitable and sometimes oppressive, but they need our support because lots of teachers and families have invested in them, they are woven into communities, and the radical critiques of them are overblown.

What about health care reform? The actual reform of act of 2010 is classically Burkean in that it weaves together existing private and public institutions in an effort to prevent change (in the form of cost inflation) and fill a fraying gap in the existing system. To be sure, many grassroots Democrats wanted a more radical reform, a single-payer system. But that was an official plank of the Democratic Party platform starting in1948; it is unfinished business from a time when the party was still “progressive” in the root sense of pushing for progress.

What about gay rights and the redefinition of marriage? First of all, this is one of very few exceptions to the general Burkean inclination of the Democratic Party: a case where the Party does want something new. But the President himself holds an almost perfectly Burkean position on gay marriage: It will be OK when it comes, he doesn’t have a principled objection to it, but he doesn’t want to push it from Washington because society needs time to adjust to it, state by state. Local norms vary and deserve some deference.

The Burkean conservatism of the Democratic Party is not merely tactical, a way of staving off undesired change by playing defense. It has philosophical roots. On the center-left, after all, is where you encounter the strongest endorsements of indigenous cultures and traditions, of deference to community norms and assets. It’s also on the Democratic side where “sustainability” (i.e., preserving something that is) seems most attractive as a guiding principle, and where people are highly sensitive to fragility, unanticipated consequences, human arrogance. Conservation, preservation, and respect for tradition are in tension with the technocratic inclinations of the Party, but they represent a powerful current in center-left thought.

The most reflective and consistent recent American Burkean was Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan. He opposed the War on Poverty in the 1960s because he thought it would destabilize communities and was based on arrogant abstractions dreamed up in academia. He then opposed the Reagan-era cuts in those programs on the same grounds. Another politician might have been blowing in the political winds, but Moynihan wrote rather extensively against both reforms on Burkean grounds. In the 1960s, he was marginal as a Democrat, excoriated by liberals and hired by Nixon. By the time he voted against Clinton’s welfare reform in 1996, he stood right at the heart of a now-Burkean party.

Aren’t the Republicans also conservative, in a Burkean sense? Maybe some are at the grassroots level, but the national party’s leaders seem eager to revolutionize America by adopting libertarian experiments. They often characterize their reforms as a return to the American past, but they mean the relatively distant past and its forgotten principles. The Paul Ryan budget would take us back to before the New Deal. Rick Santorum would move us back to before the sins of the 1960s. Burke never argued in favor of radical backward steps or original principles. It was the messy status quo, not the distant past, that attracted his respect.

I do not mean this post as a critique of the Democratic Party. I am often inclined to support the Burkean side in an argument. I do lament that our two parties are (respectively) Burkean conservative and right-radical. We would be better off if an ambitious, reformist left also existed to press for change. At least, we would be better off if people realized how the current political spectrum is arranged and voted accordingly. The choice is not really between left and right but between Burke/Hayek/Niebuhr conservatism and Milton Friedman/Antonin Scalia/William F. Buckley conservatism.