Whatever God commands is right

Today I wish to answer an old problem, the Euthyphro Dilemma. The dilemma boils down to the question, "Is it morally good because God commands it, or does God command it because it is morally good?"

Now, the question itself is interesting, but the fact that it is framed as a dilemma and sometimes used as a "proof" of the nonexistence of God is... ridiculous. The fact is that whether God does what He does because it is good, or good is defined by what God says, either way one has not developed a contradiction to the idea of God. Just because you don't know which of the options is right doesn't mean that He isn't there.

Now, returning to the question itself, LDS Theology on the point seems quite clear: God commands it because it is morally good. LDS Theology considers there to be moral truth independent of any being, and God is in complete correspondence with this moral truth. He is perfect, and statements such as "God would cease to be God" give us a pretty clear sense that morality is independent of Him, that His perfection is according to external principles by which He may be evaluated, but always passes perfectly. Now, I used the fact that God's morality provides an objectively preferred morality as evidence for Moral Realism, but the argument is not weakened by supposing that God Himself is subject to morality, as the idea of God's activity being evaluated according to external principles is itself a manifestation of a moral reality. Furthermore, the idea of God's morality being a way to learn of moral reality is not weakened, as God is Himself perfect, so that it is a matter not of defining moral reality from God's commandments, but noting perfect correspondence with morality so that we may still trust His commands to give us a perfect sense of moral reality.

Title: Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith

Justice had been his last attempt

With all of the conceptions from my last post in mind, I would like to begin to evaluate them and determine and articulate what it is that I believe. I must first say that justice is not the same as fairness. In many cases they are identical, but in my mind justice is most fundamentally the first of these conceptions. Justice is primarily the moral principle of consequences matching actions. The other conceptions, I think, are more accurately identified as fairness. To justify this statement, it seems sufficient to me to note that this is the "classical" meaning of the two words (justice and fairness), and that the terms have been combined in some discussion primarily for rhetorical purposes (the term "social justice" having been coined in the 19th century to put equality on the same rhetorical footing as the preeminent position that justice enjoyed in political philosophy and legal theory), though it seems more sensible to keep the two terms separate, if only to avoid confusion.

That said, I've merely shifted the discussion semantically: Is it justice or fairness that should have a preeminent place in the law? Or can they both enjoy an equal place? Well, they cannot both be universally observed, for at times fairness may even contradict the fundamental justice of actions and consequences: For example, a "perfectly equal" society requires that rewards are the same for all, independent of their actions, so that consequences to actions simply do not exist. I can reject this conception without hesitation, for it is contrary even to physical truth: once again, reality is not kind to the belief that consequences to actions may be ignored. Thus, as a practical matter, dismissing consequences to action seems untenable. More to the point, I may appeal to both revelation and conscience to assert that justice is a fundamental moral law. I think there may also be a logical argument for justice being an essential principle, yet I have been unable to formulate it, so that for the time being I will, from a logical perspective, take the status of the justice of consequences for actions as a moral law which ought to be satisfied (at the very least in most cases) as axiomatic. Perhaps in a later post I will find myself more capable of articulating some logic to it, or perhaps a reader may supply it, but I cannot do it now.

I have utterly rejected the "perfect equality" conception of fairness as inconsistent with the moral law of justice (at least in an imperfect society), but it is important to consider some of the other ideas of equality. The requirement of equal treatment, rewarding equally for equal goods and services or punishing equally for equal crimes, seems to me a part of the ideal of fairness, but not universally required by morality. Of course, in the restricted matter of government, I believe that equal treatment under the law is emergent from the principle of justice, for any government involvement in punishment for wrongdoing (rather than leaving it to God, which may be called for under certain circumstances, as considered in the recent post on liberty) must be regulated by the principle of justice, in which the consequences correspond to the action, or the punishment fits the crime. That at times a pardon may be reasonable as an act of mercy or in consequence of actions external to the crime, but the point is that in a general sense, all should be treated equally under the law because the moral consequences that fit actions are consistent from one person to another. On the other hand, in private matters, a person may deal with one person justly, and then for the same actions reward another person more, giving the second person what we may consider a gift in addition to the just reward for their actions. One can only justly act charitably in this manner with his own means, so that a manager at a business paying his friends more out of money which is not actually his is unjust, but if the owner of the business were to pay one more than another out of kindness, or if the manager were to take out of his own pocket and give money to an employee, I could not consider those actions wrong in and of themselves (although we may get into a complex discussion of motives here, and these actions may be dishonest when taken with other things going on). You may argue that gifts in and of themselves are not just, as they reward where there was no action, but I do not believe that that which benefits people beyond the minimum requirements of justice is immoral, that injustice can only be invoked as immorality when the injustice is in some way harmful to someone involved. When a gift is given of the free will of the giver, then such a case is not immoral.

There is also the issue of equality in matters beyond the control of those involved. I still do not believe that this is justice, but I will also suggest that inequality is not enforced by justice. A child of rich parents is not entitled by justice to his parents' wealth, for it does not come in consequence of his actions. If the parents bestow riches on their child as a gift, then this is not an offense against justice, but neither is it an offense against justice for the child to receive none of his parents' riches. In this particular example, there is an interaction between fairness and liberty, wherein the libertarian view asserts that the parents have the right to give their riches to the child, but fairness asserts that the child has no more right to the money than any other, and so it should be distributed among many children. However, justice itself is not implicated. Other examples such as natural disaster, compensation for loss due to crime, and the accidental discovery of oil in your backyard have similar results: justice neither obliges nor prevents the loss or benefit from being shared across the population, but other principles do tend to conflict with fairness in each case, leading to a more complicated resolution to the question of what ought to be done. These sorts of questions ought to be addressed (and I may approach some of them in future posts), but that will leave the subject of justice, and each problem must be addressed individually, so I will have to consider these issues another time.

Title: T.H. White, The Once and Future King

And Justice for All

Last time I talked about liberty, and now I would like to approach the subject of justice. Both of these are, as I see it, central to the role of government, and so it seems appropriate to discuss them more or less together like this, and before further approaching political philosophy.

The problem with justice is that it is very broad and includes a wide variety of meanings. However, as with liberty, as a moral realist I believe that there is a basic principle of true justice, and the question is still what constitutes this true justice. It may include a variety of ideas, but let us begin to evaluate some common theories of justice, recalling the required principle of consistency, that any moral law must be consistent with other moral laws.

First, there is the basic conception of justice that one ought to receive consequences according to his choices and actions. Under this conception, a criminal is brought to justice when he receives punishment for his crime, a person is justly dealt with when he receives full payment for a contract entered into, and it is injustice for a person to receive payment other than what is merited by the good or service he is providing (although this last example is complicated by questions of whether there is an absolute and fundamental value which may be attached to a particular good or service, so that most often it is only by deceit, such as failing to pay a previously agreed upon amount, that we consider this type of infraction against justice, though there are some counterexamples).

Second, there are several conceptions regarding equality. One idea is that one must reward or punish everyone equally. Indeed, it has been asserted that any variation in pay for similar jobs in the workplace (for example) is injustice. Alternately, there is a conception in which variation in advantages and disadvantages outside of one's control (such as one's family's economic situation) is inherently unjust. The strongest conception relating to equality is that justice demands that all people have complete equality in terms of economics, freedoms, and privileges.

Finally, there are conceptions related to need, requiring that everyone have certain minimum needs and liberties allotted them in order to fulfill justice. In many ways this is related to equality, though perhaps not quite as strong, and perhaps imposing slightly different standards (for in such a conception of justice, the ideal society gives more to a section of society because of their greater need, contrary to the conception based in equality).

There may yet be other conceptions of justice, but these, I think, can mostly be formulated as intermediates between the above. If anyone thinks of another common conception, then please comment so that I may address this as well.

In the next post I will take these different conceptions and attempt to determine which of these formulations (or what combination of them) corresponds to my personal theory of justice.

Title: U.S. Pledge of Allegiance

All men... are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights

Now I would like to turn to some of the most important moral principles for political philosophy. First will be liberty. I would like to consider what liberty is, and how we might reinforce the argument for popular sovereignty by appealing to liberty, and perhaps narrow a bit what type of government may be ideal.

Of just about any idea or principle the moral realist may ask, "Is it good, bad, or neutral?" Of course, in a previous post I suggested two tools for evaluating the answer to this question: Asking God and conscience. Now, both of these methods confirm to me that at least some idea of liberty (for there is a variety of ideas as to what liberty means) is inherently good; furthermore, it seems that most people agree with this, so it seems that we would do best to assume that at least some idea of liberty is good. This naturally leads to another question, "What conception of liberty is morally good?" Actually, I think that I will make a semantic shift here: I will refer to the conception of liberty that is as inclusive as possible while including only principles which may be referred to as liberties and remaining in all respects morally good as true liberty. In cases where there is no need to distinguish between this "true" conception of liberty and other conceptions it may be assumed that by liberty I mean true liberty.

Codifying moral truth, like codifying scientific truth, may be difficult, because, while there exist some very general principles, their interaction can be complicated: Of course we could say that true liberty consists of whatever God says it does, and this is wholly general, but unless we can listen to Him perfectly (and reason perfectly when He withholds information), this will not yield an accurate conception. So let us reason what we can, and at least get some idea.

Before beginning, let me point out three important guiding principles. First, liberty is not just good, but inherently good. That is, there are many things which are good only because they facilitate moral principles; others are themselves basic moral principles, and liberty is among these. This you may take as axiomatic if you like: in fact my source for the statement is simply that God says so, that I have myself received very clear teaching from God on the subject. Second, I require Ethics to be self-consistent. That is, if there is a conflict between ethical principles, then they must not be wholly general, but approximations of the truth (at best), and the deepest reality must resolve this conflict. This rule applies to liberty: The truest principles of liberty cannot contradict one another. Third, it is important for us to distinguish the principle of agency from liberty. The clearest distinction between the two is that agency or free will is a simple reality (although there is an interesting discussion to be had on the subject of determinism and free will, which I will have to address sometime, I do not believe that it is such a deep contradiction as many would hold), a physical truth, if you will. Liberty, on the other hand, is a moral truth, something which ought to be, whether it is or not. Free will is our ability to choose, and no matter what influence may be exerted by others, I may still choose one way or another, even when my ability to act on those choices is limited. Liberty, on the other hand, is the right to act on my choices. If I am physically restrained, then my liberty is certainly reduced, but my agency is not: I may still choose whether to struggle or submit, I may still choose to believe what I will, and I may even choose to exert my muscles as if to rise and walk away from my restraints; I may not, however, actually rise and walk, no matter what I choose. But, then, actually leaving my restraints behind is not, in the purest sense, my choice, but a consequence of my choice to exert myself. Now, I will need to address free will more fully at other times, but the distinction is essential for us to bear in mind that liberty is more than simply the ability to choose.

In attempting to establish a conception of true liberty, I suppose that I should first establish what liberty is not. For one thing, true liberty does not consist of complete freedom from the consequences of our actions and choices. Liberty is not a tool of Hedonism. Actually, such a conception of liberty requires you to say that liberty is itself the only moral truth, which, beside contradicting revelation and conscience, seems independently unlikely: for if there is such a thing as moral truth, which ought to be, then why should we assume that there is only one moral truth? Anyway, even without moral considerations, we have to deal with physical truths as well, and the universe is not kind to the belief that you can ignore the consequences of your actions (try choosing not to eat for a few weeks without consequence, for example). So a true conception of liberty is certainly constrained in at least some particulars.

To what extent, then, is true liberty constrained? Well, perhaps the simplest constraints come from the requirement of self-consistency: If, for example, one person is allowed such liberty that he can steal from his next-door neighbor without consequence, then it infringes on the rights of the neighbor, so that a prohibition against theft is clearly consistent with liberty.

Beyond the need for self-consistency, the need for consistency with other moral principles forces us to say that liberty does not necessarily imply the ability to act without consequence contrary to other moral truths. That is, it is not necessarily inconsistent with liberty for a law to prohibit adultery and to punish it if one believes that adultery is immoral. However, a key question arises as to the role of government: Is it proper for government to punish moral transgression, or should that be left to God? In answer, consider the ability of government to err, both in enforcement and in establishment of moral principles. While not a basic principle of liberty to allow the transgression of moral law, it is dangerous to grant government a primary role and great powers in the enforcement of moral law, save perhaps that God Himself were present and governing. As such, it may be considered consistent with liberty to leave to God the consequences of such transgression, and while not required by liberty in principle, as a practical matter it is more likely to be favorable toward liberty to diminish government's enforcement of moral principles. Government enforcement of moral principles is not always bad, but we should at least be very wary of it and limit such enforcement.

Let me finish with two ideas. First, it is not only consistent with but required by liberty to allow people to pursue their moral duty to the fullest extent possible. Finally, although diminishing government's enforcement of moral principles may be more likely to favor liberty, that does not imply that government must recognize as moral those principles and actions which are in fact immoral. I will have to return to both of these extensively in future posts, both because I have not offered justification and because they are central to key freedoms (such as the freedom of religion), but for now this will have to suffice.

Title: US Declaration of Independence

Just to Love and Be Loved in Return

Sorry to say, I dropped off the face of the planet, as far as this is concerned, for nearly two months. The reason is simple: I've been out of town, on vacation in the Western United States and at a research meeting in Japan. However, I thought that I'd use this as a springboard for this post.

You see, the primary purpose of my vacation was to see my best friends and family. I went to places that never see tourists (my first stop was Casper, Wyoming), but these stops were far more valuable to me than my day in Venice, Italy. Why? Well, take Casper, for example. I stayed a total of three days (two on the way west, one on the way back) with my friend Jessica and her family. She's probably my best friend: I know that she cares about me, I feel good around her, we get along well, and so forth.

During my days in Casper, it didn't take long to notice how much better I felt than I had in Chicago. Now, don't get me wrong, Chicago is a cool city: just a couple of weeks before I had been absolutely blown away by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, the food in the city is amazing, the architecture is awesome, and all the other things that you think of that favor a big city. But I found, quite simply, that I arrived in Wyoming and I felt loved, as I hadn't felt in Chicago.

Now, I'm not talking about romance here. Jessica is a beautiful woman (and I'll even admit that I like her), but that's simply not what I'm talking about. When I say that I love, I mean that the happiness and well-being of another person is important to me, at least as important as my own; when I feel that I am loved, I mean that there is a person who really cares about me.

So, though you might call it a cliche as it's been said so often, love is important, even essential. It makes life better, it's even on that list of things that make life worth living. It might sound cliche, but my experience suggests that days with friends are better than those in Rome, and I don't know what I would do without friends like Jessica.

Title: "Nature Boy" by Eden Ahbez

Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe

I saw an article recently which frustrated and annoyed me. In short, the article is a World Health Organization discussion of various studies done to measure the medical effects of cell phone radiation. Some of the studies indicated that cancer rates were higher for cell phone users, and so the WHO was issuing a warning that it could be an issue, saying "be careful of cell phone use or you'll get cancer."

Let me point out that, from a Physicists' point of view, this is ridiculous. No, I'm not talking, "Oh, this is surprising." No, it's worse than that: the idea is laughable. It would take extremely decisive results and well controlled studies for this to have any credibility with me. However, studies are split, at the very worst (you can find a list on Wikipedia, with the vast majority concluding that there are no carcinogenic effects).

But why do I find reports of this incredible? The answer goes back to the basic Physics. In 1901, Max Planck proposed the first component of quantum theory: that light comes in discreet packets, his idea eventually evolving to the modern photon. The idea was cited by Einstein in his explanation of the photoelectric effect in 1905, and has been extensively confirmed since (for crying out loud, it's a key concept in high harmonic generation, which was the main thing my lab at BYU worked on). So it's pretty well established: light is absorbed in packets, and the energy of each packet is proportional to the frequency of the light. Now, the effect that light can have on matter is purely an issue of the absorption of these packets, and all they really do is impart energy, momentum, and angular momentum to matter... that's it.

Now, what causes cancer? There's a lot of things, but one thing is common to all cancers: it requires some sort of chemical, electronic, or structural change to a macromolecule in the cell. That is it. Now, light can cause changes of this sort. In fact, that's how we can see: light with sufficient energy causes pigments in the eye to change, which then acts as a chemical and electronic signal which can be interpreted by the brain. However, a change to the molecule like this requires a certain amount of energy.

Okay, now let's bring it all together. We've got cell phone radiation (which is all electromagnetic radiation, i.e., light), which is at a frequency of around 1 GHz. Visible light, which is near the lower end of light that has enough energy to have these kinds of effects is at a frequency of... wait for it... 500 THz, 500,000 times as energetic as cell phone radiation. What does that mean? Simple: It takes about 500,000 photons of cell phone radiation to equal one visible photon, meaning that you would need about a million cell phone photons hitting the same molecule at the exact same time in order to cause damage. Just so you know, that doesn't happen. The probability of getting two photons to hit the same molecule at the same time is practically zero unless the intensity is unimaginably huge (for cell phone radiation we're talking about a trillion times the intensity of light hitting the earth's surface here).

So what does cell phone radiation do when it gets absorbed? Well, it has enough energy to do one of two things: it might be able to make a molecule spin. Or, more likely, it just gives it a little push, making it move. That's it. Cell phone radiation makes the molecules in your head jiggle a little bit. How much is a little bit? Well, we're talking about a power equal to about 3% of what your body emits in radiation (oh, yeah, I forgot to mention, everything at room temperature is emitting radiation, too... and not just that, but radiation that's close to 100,000 times more energetic than cell phone radiation, so without even talking about the fundamental physics of what light does to molecules we could just do the comparison of "You're standing in a room where you're being bombarded by radiation. If that can't cause cancer, neither can cell phone radiation."). And of course that's not the whole story... there's all the other energy that's going around in your body. So, in conclusion, cell phone radiation heats your head by less than the amount that standing in a hot room does. And it doesn't have the physical ability to do anything else to you.

In conclusion, don't worry about cell phone radiation. It's harmless.

Title: Einstein

Hope for things which are not seen, which are true

I've been pursuing a common thread in my last several posts, building my basic philosophy of Ethics and political philosophy, and I will be returning to both of these themes very shortly, but at least for this post I'd like to depart from them and consider a bit of Theology. Of course, I can hardly take credit for my Theology; in fact, I hope that I can refer to it as "my Theology" only in the sense that it has been confirmed to me, for its origin should be God and revelations from Him. But, then, I may speculate some, and I alone must take the blame for such speculation.

So in establishing first principles of Theology, it may come as no surprise that I follow in the footsteps of Joseph Smith, who, after all, was a prophet, and quite possibly the greatest Theologian since Christ Himself, at least in terms of teaching actual truth. So I will begin where he began: with Faith. Now, the truth of the matter is that I am utterly inadequate to add to Joseph's own masterful Lectures on Faith. If you wish to really understand the subject of Faith, then read that. However, while I cannot add, I can summarize or condense.

Faith is assurance or confidence of the existence of things which we have not seen. Now here, from the very start, the secularist objects: Why should we act based upon things that we do not see? Yet the prophet Joseph Smith gives us a response, near the beginning of the first lecture:

If men were duly to consider themselves, and turn their thoughts and reflections to the operations of their own minds, they would readily discover that it is faith, and faith only, which is the moving cause of all action in them; that without it both mind and body would be in a state of inactivity, and all their exertions would cease, both physical and mental. Were this class to go back and reflect upon the history of their lives, from the period of their first recollection, and ask themselves what principle excited them to action, or what gave them energy and activity in all their lawful avocations, callings, and pursuits, what would be the answer? Would it not be that it was the assurance which they had of the existence of things which they had not seen as yet? Was it not the hope which you had, in consequence of your belief in the existence of unseen things, which stimulated you to action and exertion in order to obtain them? Are you not dependent on your faith, or belief, for the acquisition of all knowledge, wisdom, and intelligence? Would you exert yourselves to obtain wisdom and intelligence, unless you did believe that you could obtain them? (Lectures on Faith, 1:10-11)

So there it is. We should act on things that we do not see because every consequence to every action which we undertake is unseen until we perform the action, so that we can have no purpose except one toward something which is not yet seen. The restriction should not be against action based on what we do not see, but against action based on what is not true. Granted, we cannot always discern truth from error, but the point is that the inability to see something does not make it a poor basis for action.

Let us narrow the subject a bit. There is the very general principle of Faith, which we must exert in anything we do, but our confidence can be rooted in many different things. For example, we have Faith that the sun will rise because experience teaches us that it happens every day, and though we do not yet see that it will happen again tomorrow, we are quite confident of it. This Faith in our senses and past experiences is something which almost everyone considers reasonable. In contrast, there is Faith in a person, confidence in that person. To have confidence in someone is to trust them in some way: to trust what they say, or to trust that they will be capable of doing what they have said they will do. Of course, we generally find that this sort of trust can be good or bad, as a person may or may not be worthy of such trust, and absolute and perfect trust in a person (which is most often associated with Faith) is surely misplaced. Finally, there is Faith in God and Faith in Christ. This would still indicate trust. The difference is that it is always sensible to trust God or Christ, for Their nature makes Them perfectly trustworthy.

Thus, the first two requirements which Joseph Smith lays out as essential for a person to have unshaken Faith are evident from its very nature: Joseph says that a man must first have the idea that God exists (for it is impossible to have confidence in that which you believe to be non-existent), and second he must have a correct understanding of the perfections and attributes of God. After all, when one knows that God is perfectly loving, all-powerful, all-knowing, unchanging, and so forth, then he knows that God is never wrong (for He is omniscient), whatever He instructs will be to the man's benefit (for He is perfectly loving), and He is capable of carrying out whatever He sets out to do (because He is omnipotent). A man who knows that God possesses these attributes fully and unchangeably must conclude that he can trust God perfectly, but if a man does not know that God possesses these attributes, then he cannot have such complete trust, but must suppose that God, like any man which he trusts, must also be prone to error.

Now, I have barely scratched the surface on Faith, but it's already enough to establish some important consequences: First, there is the prophet Joseph Smith's statement, "Whatever God commands is right, no matter what it is, although we may not see the reason thereof till long after the events transpire" (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith). Beyond moral imperatives, God is always right. If God says that He has a plan (and He has said so), then that plan is the best way for us to attain happiness, and it will succeed. There is the need for humility before God: After all, if God knows everything, then He is smarter than you, and if He has all power then you're reliant on Him, so you'd be foolish to set yourself up as greater than or even equal to Him.

Finally, there is perhaps the most practical consequence, what R. Conrad Schultz of the Seventy referred to as "Faith Obedience." Boyd K. Packer said, "Latter-day Saints are not obedient because they are compelled to be obedient. They are obedient because they know certain spiritual truths and have decided, as an expression of their own individual agency, to obey the commandments of God" (Agency and Control, April 1983 General Conference). That is, because we know that we can trust God, it makes sense to obey Him. In fact, you might say that nothing makes more sense. He is never wrong, so whatever He tells you to do will bring you the most happiness possible if you obey it. It's that simple.

Title: Alma 32:21

Irreligion as the state religion would be the worst of all combinations

Presupposing that at least some, such as myself, view religious conviction as an important source of morality, and morality being a basis for popular sovereignty within my (and, I presume, some others') political philosophy, and considering the controversy of the subject, it may be natural to address the role of religion in public discourse at this point.

First, let me state what I believe to be a significant problem: In many circles, a religious conviction is viewed as illegitimate, an unsound basis for belief, and those subscribing to such convictions are even, at times, viewed as diminished by those views (recall my first post, in which I cited the allegation that a person couldn't be a good scientist and religious). In many circles, a person acting from religious conviction in the public sphere is viewed as improper, and it's even argued that such actions are contrary to the establishment clause in the First Amendment of the US Constitution.

I would like to go on the record as saying that such a view of religious conviction is not only incorrect, but inconsistent.

First of all, there is the problem that Elder Maxwell noted way back in 1978, that such an approach actually establishes irreligion as a preferred religion. All opinions must be placed on irreligious terms if action from religious conviction is considered illegitimate.

Second, under such a view, one must appeal to a philosophical axiom which is just as scientifically unprovable as a religious conviction. Science only makes measurement of what is, and if what is differs from what ought to be, then science can know nothing of it, having no way of measuring what ought to be independent of what is. Thus, science can discover nothing of the basic axioms of Ethics. Similarly, Mathematics is based on an axiomatic structure: you must assume something before you can build anything up. Logic requires basic facts to make conclusions. In short, the methods by which there is any certainty in a secular world can say nothing of the most basic principles of Ethics. One requires certain unprovable definitions and axioms in order to assert anything contrary to Moral Realism and the ability to gain moral truth from a divine source. We are now bound to return to a question very similar to the old one; now it is, "Under what philosophical set of axioms should we act?" My answer is to let everyone act on the philosophical ground that they see fit in public discourse, for there is no objective and independent way of determining which world views have validity and which do not. Yet dismissing or barring religion from public discourse arbitrarily decides what, out of all these possibilities, is right.

And what of people in public office? The same applies. Supposing that I were to run for public office, then my philosophical and moral beliefs would be quite visible. If the people wish to elect a Moral Realist with certain beliefs about moral truth, who will scrupulously attempt to balance their wishes with his morality (generally siding with them, but perhaps breaking with the majority at times), and who will seek to serve them, then why shouldn't I, religious beliefs and all, be allowed to serve? In fact, even if I weren't to make such efforts to balance popular opinion with my beliefs, even if I were to completely ignore my constituency and simply vote based on what I think, so long as the people knowingly and willingly chose my moral sense rather than a willingness to cater to their opinion, could they not do so (now, I do believe that I would feel a need to regard the opinion of my constituency, yet the argument stands, so far as I can see)? If the people see me as fit, see my moral code as good, and believe me to be wise, then my actions should not be viewed as anything less than legitimate. If they want the wisest, most honest, and most moral person that they can find, rather than one selected by any number of other criteria (such as choosing someone based on whether they will vote as they wish), and believe that I am him, then their choice for integrity, wisdom, and morality should be honored. It is only if I were to act dishonestly, to attempt to deceive the electorate, perhaps hiding my Moral Realism until I was in office, that actions based on that would not carry the full weight of legitimacy offered by the will of the people.

Now, two more points: First, this goes both ways. In a society built on liberty and popular sovereignty, everyone must be free to act on his philosophical and moral beliefs. An atheist and a Moral Relativist treating all of society as a social contract should be free to use his vote and his voice to put forward those parts of the contract which he sees as most to his benefit. A Moral Realist should be free to advocate whatever he believes to be right in the society, whatever his source for that belief.

Second, it is important to realize that there is at least one type of public discourse where all must be done from common philosophical ground: in a debate. For if there is not common ground in debate with regards to the pertinent axioms and material facts then a civil debate becomes extremely difficult, possibly meaningless. If the differences lie in things which cannot be successfully argued (such as basic axioms), then what can a debate tell us? Perhaps a reader can suggest a solution, but I, for one, do not see how a debate can be effective if those arguing do not share this kind of common ground. The best solution that I can see is for those involved to agree on the axioms under which they will be operating for the purpose of the debate beforehand, but honestly this, to me, indicates that modern political debates are unlikely to be effective... and I would assert that my observation confirms this.

Title: Neal A. Maxwell, Meeting the Challenges of Today

In order to form a more perfect union

We have said that certain things ought to be.

Now I wish to turn to political philosophy, using the last two posts, Moral Realism and the ways in which we may discover which moral principles are true, as a foundation. To me this is reasonable, for we have just been discussing the idea of what ought to be in general, and now we are addressing what ought to be in society.

Now, we must first ask whether a specific type of government is a fundamental good, for if it is, then the whole business is complete, we have reduced political philosophy to a tautology (the type of government which ought to be is the type which is fundamentally good). However, I at least have no evidence that any government or type of government is fundamentally good, as the good of all forms of government seems to be related to other moral principles. Furthermore, others feel the need to appeal to other principles to decide the rightness of a political action, which seems to indicate that others believe as I do that government does not represent in itself a fundamental good (I will take this as an axiom, for I do not know how to begin at an earlier point than this, or if one could find a more basic applicable axiom). Therefore, to evaluate the good of a specific government or form of government, or to develop the best form possible, we must appeal to other moral principles. In fact, it is meaningless to talk about "good government" without first having an idea of "good."

So, if the good in any government must be developed from (or at least evaluated by) moral principles, then the government that allows and provides maximum adherence to moral principles, and which itself adheres maximally to moral principles, must be good. We might restate this as, "Government and law exist (or at least ought to exist) for the sake of those things which fundamentally ought to be."

Now, here we must be careful, because, as we noted in the last post, it is often difficult to discern what constitutes moral truth. We have established that government ought to exist for the sake of moral principles, but without knowing what constitute moral principles, this is a worthless fact. Of course, most people have some ideas about morality, and I noted in the last post that we may presume that the human conscience or innate sense of right and wrong represents at least an approximation of moral truth, so we have that as a starting point. However, as I also noted, people don't always agree on what is moral. Then we might say that we have only taken the basic question, "What is right?" and replaced it with the question, "When conceptions of morality conflict, whose morality do we follow?" Well, there is one obvious answer to this question: We should follow God's morality, since, as noted before, God's perfection establishes His morality as objectively preferred. The answer, then, for the perfect government would be a true Theocracy, in the most literal sense of the word: that is, for God to come down and rule among us.

However, there is a big problem with that approach to government. As noted before, we can't control God. He won't come down and rule among us except as He chooses to. And He has not physically come down for all to see, so we simply don't have that option. Yes, there are those who are in communication with Him, so you could suggest that someone who has a particularly good relationship with God would be the best to lead (and you would even be right, so far as I can see), but there is a catch: People could always lie, saying that they receive instruction from God when they do not. In this case, you could easily have a person who has fooled everyone, saying that he is a prophet speaking for God, who people would then follow into all sorts of behavior that is, in fact, against morality. So it may be true that a prophet is the best possible human leader, but you have to know that it is really God in charge, and not a charlatan. And then, if we're looking for prophets, we're just faced with another question: "How do we decide who is the false prophet and who is the true prophet?" In the end, we could say that this is another dead end, at least in the sense that we still need to figure out a way to decide.

So we cannot seem to appeal to a preferred morality to follow. If we cannot find an individual's morality to follow, then perhaps an alternative is to follow what we might term the average of everyone's morality. This may seem arbitrary, but perhaps we can justify it as such: As I discussed in the previous post, we suppose that a person's conscience represents a fairly good approximation of moral truth. Further, let us suppose, though experience suggests that it is not true, that everyone's morality is independent of everyone else's, and is primarily based upon that person's conscience. Then we may suppose that the errors in morality will vary from person to person, so that agreement on an error will be less common than agreement on a truth. Thus, in the mean, you get something that is probably even nearer to moral truth than the consciences of the individuals.

However, there is the assumption that I noted to be faulty from the beginning: experience demonstrates that people often influence one another, and sometimes these influences cause errors to be magnified, rather than averaged out, so this system of popular sovereignty can't be anticipated to produce laws based perfectly on moral truth. Indeed, it is a common maxim that the opinions of the masses do not prove anything to be true. All the same, as I do not know another solution to the question of "whose morality" to follow, this is the best that I have; and though we cannot suppose that the errors in morality will be "averaged out" as we could hope if everyone were to honestly and independently seek out moral truth, we can at least hope that this will give us something of the truth. On top of this, we can hope that in whatever measure individuals seek to independently understand and act on moral truth, this system will offer better and better results. So we essentially put the burden of good government on the people, saying that if we have a moral people, we will have good government. Furthermore, there is a significant advantage to popular sovereignty over other methods of determining whose morality to adopt: Other methods may well be incompatible with alternative political philosophies, whereas popular sovereignty is, in fact, robust, being compatible with several Ethical philosophies. The differences that tend to arise can be manifest in the voting: a Hedonist will vote for whatever measures are for his own good, or those which he believes will most likely secure his own pleasure; a Realist will vote for whatever measures he believes are in harmony with moral truth; and so forth.

Thus, at this stage, I conclude that the ideal must be some form of popular sovereignty, at least so long as we don't have God ruling on earth, though there is considerably more to explore on the subject. I have not even addressed what type of government of the many that fall under the heading of popular sovereignty, nor have I at all considered such principles as liberty and justice which are so strongly connected to government. In fact, I feel that this opens up a wide array of possible discussions. But this post is already very long, so I will begin again next time.

Title: US Constitution, Preamble

But the question now is, "Is it right?"

So I've gotten as far as Moral Realism. I believe that there are basic moral principles of what ought to be, independent of our belief in and adherence to them. If certain things ought to be, then it seems reasonable that we should try to find these things out and to do them, and establish a society which fosters adherence to these moral truths.

The first question that we might ask, then, is how we might try to find out these moral truths. The first thing that comes to mind, being a scientist, is to observe the world around me and see if I can figure anything out from that. But I quickly get stuck. I can't see any way of looking around and figuring out what ought to be simply from what is. In fact, this is Hume's point, the "is-ought problem" is the fact that we don't know a way to figure out the way things should be simply from the way things are. We always have to appeal to something more.

The next thing that comes to mind is to look at where I got Moral Realism in the first place. There were two basic sources that I appealed to: First, God, which I focused on primarily, coming to a conclusion which we might summarize as "God's morality establishes an objectively preferred morality." The second source is the apparently innate nature of morality, the fact that everyone seems to have a conscience, and it's very hard to ignore or get rid of. Again, I focused less on this because I believe that God makes a stronger case for Moral Realism, but this seemingly innate sense of morality does give us some information about morality. There could be more ways to learn about morality than these, but these are the two that are apparent to me at this stage of reasoning.

As to how we may learn what is right, we may first note that, by the "God is always right" rule (I don't know if I've explicitly stated this before, and I haven't done a real treatment of the nature of God, but the rule follows simply from the omniscience of God, which I will have to consider at length in some later post), whatever God says on the subject of morality must be true. Thus, if we ask God what is right on some subject and get an unambiguous answer, we may have confidence in this. Now, not everyone believes that they may receive such clear and distinct information from God, and so this channel of information is not necessarily open to everyone (for you cannot utilize a tool until you know that you have it). This makes us turn to the other source for morality I mentioned above. However, we have no a priori reason for supposing that the innate sense of morality must be accurate. In fact, there are some contradictions to be found in what is believed to be moral in different societies, so that we may be sure that one society or another must be in error. However, even though people seem capable of twisting, silencing, or corrupting morality from this evidence, there are two important correlations which make me believe that a person's conscience is worth trusting: First, there seems to be a fairly strong correlation in the moral sense of different people and cultures, for the points on which they agree tend to be far more numerous than those on which they disagree. If we had nothing else to go on, then this might be an indication that the innate moral sense was at least our best guess for what is right, and that its answers would usually be at least self-consistent. The second correlation is even more important, however: It is the correlation between the innate moral sense and what God has told me directly. As such, there is an apparent correlation between the sense of what is right and what is actually right. This can give us confidence that our honest moral belief built from careful reflection on what our innate moral sense tells us is probably a very good approximation for what is right. Finally, one last advantage which the human conscience has: Whereas some people call on God and receive specific answers from Him, everyone has a conscience, so this can be regarded as a universal way of figuring out what is at least approximately right, even for those who do not believe in God.

So we do have ways of determining what is right: We can ask God and, if He does not give us specific guidance, we can trust that our consciences are at least likely to give us approximate moral truth. It remains to utilize these channels to ascertain moral truth, and then to act on this moral truth. Learn what is right, then do it. I see little more that needs to be said on the subject of personal ethics, unless it were to begin to outline moral truths. However, I will not do that. I think that I will leave personal ethics here, and turn to ethics as it relates to society, beginning my treatment of political philosophy in my next post.

Title: Immanuel Kant, Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals

Right was to be the important thing

C.S. Lewis gives an interesting argument on morality in Mere Christianity. In brief, he gives a variant on the argument from morality: he shows that morality is a code of conduct innate in people (I say "shows," although you cannot call what he writes a strict proof, because I belief that his demonstration is sufficient in conjunction with my own observations to be at least difficult to object to), argues that it is contrary to evolutionary pressure, and then gives the only plausible alternative as being transcendental or divine in origin, thus invoking God. In short, morality is his argument for God, and how he came to be convinced of the existence of God, in spite of his previous atheism.

Well, I will take the opposite tack: I believe a stronger statement can be made upon establishing the existence of God; and as I have already made it clear that I believe in Him and argued for His existence in the best way I believe possible (in terms of the experiment), I will now take the existence of God as my starting point.

You see, examining myself and those around me, I am convinced that morality is innate, but that does not prove that morality represents anything inherent in the world: Perhaps it represents only something inherent in people. However, from the assumption of the existence of God we may establish that morality is not only innate, but inherent in reality itself: That there is a universal standard of right and wrong by which our actions ought to be determined and against which they may be measured. In short, I am a moral realist. Moral realism is defined by saying that moral statements can be made as logical propositions (such as "Murder is wrong") and that some of these statements are true. This is in contrast to philosophies such as moral relativism, which asserts that morality is entirely subjective, with either no inherent truth or falsity in such propositions or the assertion that all such propositions are false, and all morality is merely a cultural or personal belief. I find that the existence of God provides a quite firm basis for moral realism; in fact, so long as you assume that God makes moral statements (and most of my experiences with Him establish this, the remainder being morally neutral), then His omniscience, omnipotence, and so forth (His perfections) establish an objectively preferred morality out of all possible moral beliefs, thus fully convincing me of a moral reality. That which God states to be moral is, in fact, moral, and remains set regardless of our beliefs.

What I am talking about, then, are moral truths. They are true as universally as what we might call physical truths, but with an important difference: To use Hume's terminology, physical truths are concerned with "is" statements, while moral truths are concerned with "ought" statements. They are, in fact, quite independent of one another: An "is" statement does not necessarily imply an "ought" statement, nor an "ought" statement an "is" statement. In other words, people don't always do what they ought to do. The comparison between the two types of truth, however, has further usefulness. For example, it is usually difficult to state absolutes which are universally true in either the physical world or morality. For example, it may be a physical fact that the sky is blue; however, it may turn red at sunset. But we can answer both these circumstances with a discussion of Rayleigh Scattering: for, regardless of the time of day, this explanation does give you the color of the sky. If you object further that Rayleigh Scattering is not fully general, that it only explains the color of the sky on a planet with an atmosphere with certain properties similar to earth's, we may define deeper and deeper physical principles, until we finally discover something that is without exception (for example, so far as we can tell, conservation of momentum is a physical absolute). Similarly, in morality, even fairly definite rules such as "Thou shalt not kill" can be answered with exceptional circumstances (if killing one person will save hundreds of others, is it right?), and while you may maintain that the prohibition against murder holds in these circumstances, there is certainly room for debate. However, just as in the physical case, it may be possible to find a fully general moral absolute. For example, there is one readily apparent moral absolute in an ethical system built from the idea of "God's morality": Joseph Smith summarized it as, "Whatsoever God commands is right."

One last point, a practical issue, based on a moral realist ethical system. If there exists moral truth, then it is reasonable to presume that we should first try to discover such moral truths, then act upon them. In fact, it seems plausible that, upon discovering a moral truth, we should do what we can to foster the translation of that "ought" statement into an "is" statement, both in our own conduct and in whatever ways we can influence those around us (without, of course, compromising other ethical principles). That provides us with quite a bit more that could be said, but I think I will leave that for another post.

Title: T.H. White, The Once and Future King

One thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see

Truthfully, the rational arguments are secondary and almost certainly incomplete (I am not a psychologist, and the primary objection one may raise is psychological). I am asserting that there is a spiritual process which is in many ways superior to the rational process, and while I wish to do my best to rationally establish this, to me it seems self-evident, in the sense that an experience with it makes its veracity clear. As to my own knowledge, that is the trick: I have actually had these experiences. They are real. I can't argue with that sense of light and truth except by abandoning my axiom, because the perception is literal and just as real as sensory perception. That is a simple statement of experience: it can't make for a debating point with someone who disagrees, because in a debate you need to agree on material facts and argue consequences, but anyone who disagrees will be disagreeing about a material fact, not a consequence. I do feel an obligation to use the rational as well as the spiritual process to seek truth, and I like Descartes, so a philosophical argument such as I can formulate is requisite, but it's not the heart of it for me.

The title of this post comes from the Bible, and here is where it comes in. I believe the story is illustrative. You see, in John 9, Christ miraculously heals a man, who had been born blind, on the Sabbath. The Jews at this time were divided on whether one could legally perform healing arts on the Sabbath, and some who opposed Him, latching onto this fact, told the man who had been healed that Christ was a sinner for performing the healing. To this the man replied, "Whether he be a sinner or no, I know not: one thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see" (John 9:25). The thing is that this man had never received any real education, whereas those he was arguing with had been taught for years in all the ins and outs of the Law of Moses, which was their basis for the conception of what constituted a sinner. But whatever arguments the Pharisees could make from their vast learning, they could not counter the simple fact that the man was born blind, but could see. Whatever else they might say about Jesus, He did perform that miracle. The same with me: I have had these experiences, and while (unlike the man born blind) I have been trained in reason (especially math and science), I do know what I have seen and experienced.

As a last consideration, I would like to address this beyond myself. Actually, the Book of Mormon prophets Alma and Moroni do the best job here, so I'll give you their suggestions: try the experiment. You see, that's the trick: I tried the experiment, and I got results. Those verses outline the experiment as "ask God." That's really the only way to know about God. You see, I mentioned the issue of control in passing before, and this is the biggest thing that distinguishes a spiritual or religious experiment from a scientific one. In science, we must be in control of what we are studying, whereas in religion we can't be, because we're studying God and He is all-powerful. So you've got to have an open mind and be willing to listen for His answer, but He's told us to ask, so He won't be offended if we do so sincerely. I know He's there based on my own experience. And any good scientist would be willing to perform such a simple experiment in the hopes of learning something so profound, even if he can't be sure whether he will get results.

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

Last time I considered certain experiences, which I said were from God, but, following Descartes, called into question their origin, and in preparation to answering this objection, considered their nature. So the question is, "By what process are things made certain to me in these experiences?" so that we may evaluate whether it fits my label as a form of perception of the outside world and if that perception bears, as I assert, a similar certainty (in fact, I assert that it is greater, but similar is sufficient) to that of sensory perception. There are three potential answers here, so far as I can see. The first two are obvious, as they are the processes of which I am aware by which our minds evaluate information: by a rational process (reasoning it out), or by an emotional process (an emotional reaction). There is also, for a third possibility, my assertion that it is a spiritual process, that God literally and directly grants information to the mind and heart along with a confirmation. This possibility is clearly a matter of perception in the sense which I have discussed: it is external information being delivered directly into my mind, just as sensory perception is external information brought in.

To determine which of these processes is at work, an argument can be developed from the fact that, whatever this process by which I receive light and truth is, I have no power over it: it acts quite independent of me. I do not know how to manufacture the sense of light, nor how to conjure up the ideas that come with it. There are certain rules by which I can increase the probability of such an experience: by moral action. If I do what is morally good and what previous experiences of this sort suggest, then they are more likely to occur. However, there is no definite mental state immediately preceding such an experience, nor an exact action which always produces one. Thus, I conclude that these experiences are produced by means external to myself. They cannot be purely psychological in nature, because I am not the agent of their creation.

One more argument, built around the statement I made, that direction is often a part of these impressions. While not, in my view, as strong as the immediately preceding argument to establish the external nature of these impressions, this allows a quasi-scientific evaluation, for we have specific predictions and, just like scientific knowledge, these predictions should be accurate. Furthermore, if they are psychological in nature, I suspect that these directions will not run contrary to what I believe and desire. However, impressions have done precisely that. I have a few stories I could tell wherein God told me something very specific, contrary to my own wishes, and, by my own careful calculations, foolish and impossible. And yet, when I followed through, the predictions were accurate, and I was certainly happy; when I didn't hearken, I saw the consequences very directly (my greatest regret to date is among these). Now, I'll grant that most of the time this sort of direct cause and effect isn't so evident, but I can think of at least a few cases where not only is the original idea, indifferent of its accuracy, virtually unexplainable from a psychological standpoint, but there's a practical omniscience in its accuracy. Exact science would require more careful control of conditions and a larger sample size, but, quite frankly, we aren't in control here, so we have to deal with what we have, and the results thus far are astoundingly consistent in support of the theistic thesis. Beside this, and probably more importantly, the reliability of this communication or perception is suggested: I find that I can trust these experiences with God as much or more than I can trust my senses (precisely the necessary condition noted above).


Title: Queen, Bohemian Rhapsody

Of the things of which we may doubt

I am sure that what I talked about at the end of last post are real experiences with God. However, if I like Descartes (today's title comes from Descartes' Meditations) so much, it's certainly fair to ask, "How can you be sure? Could it not be a psychological illusion? Or, to use Descartes' own example, couldn't it be a powerful evil demon fooling you?" Well, I will start with an axiom: "That which I perceive does, to some extent, represent reality." I know that Descartes does not take advantage of such an axiom, but I've read only summaries of the Meditations (I plan to remedy this soon, but the Meditations are not light reading, and I wish to be able to take my time with them), so I don't understand how he overcomes the general objection of the evil demon and cannot decide whether his proof is valid. Furthermore, I believe that from a utilitarian standpoint my axiom must be considered as true (whether proven true, as Descartes suggests, or taken as an axiom): for if we have no faith in any perception (sensory or otherwise), how shall we ever decide anything or act in any way? I could say considerably more on the subject, but that will probably be left to another post, and let it suffice for the time being to say that decision making is impossible without any input through perception (if you know a way around this, I'd love to hear it). I shall therefore take as the threshold defining "to some extent" for my axiom to be that my sensory perceptions are approximately valid, a single event of sensory perception establishing that which I have perceived to greater than 90% certainty (90% is an arbitrary figure here, but I believe it to be simultaneously conservative--I don't think my eyes trick me more than 10% of the time--and sufficient to establish reality--in part because things are often attested to many times--and anyway, the exact figure does not matter from here on out, but simply illustrates that we can give a figure which is simultaneously conservative and establishes reality).

In this case, the question to be posed is whether there is any sort of perception to which I may attribute my knowledge of God. Well, yes. In a literal sense, by His communicating with me. This I perceive quite literally in my own self: using poetic or scriptural language, in my mind and heart. I certainly perceive something which is beyond myself, though this perception is different from sensory perception in the sense that I am not the primary active agent, as I may be argued to be in the case of sensory perception (actually, it may be more accurate to say that sensory perception is also passive, as our eyes do not actively bring light into them, but passively absorb light from our surroundings; but argue as you wish, whether the senses are active or passive, it does not matter for my purposes today). This does not address the psychological argument, and so you may ask, "Is this, which you call the Spirit, not merely an emotional response?" I respond that it is not, but you may certainly press the issue, so now I'll have to explain more about these experiences.

Let me note that it is extremely distinctive. It is simply not like any emotion, so if it is simply an internal emotion then it is a unique one. The fact is that I cannot simply call it love (I have been in love before, and it is not just this), or calm (I have certainly been calm), or happiness (I have been happy before), or any other single emotion that I have experienced separate from this. In fact, it is all of these and more: love, peace, and joy, yes, but there is more to it than that.

First, there is a sensation which I have never heard described better than as "light." This is perhaps the most distinctive bit, but by its distinctive nature I am afraid that I am completely unable to convey it in words, because usually we describe sensation and perception in terms of comparisons. If this seems like a cop-out, then describe the taste of salt, or the color yellow, or joy without comparison or contrast with something else. If you can, then I hope that you have this kind of spiritual experience: you'll communicate it better than me, that's for certain. Regardless, the point stands that it is distinctive, so that I may say what is and is not an experience of this type.

Further, from the first time that I (somewhat unexpectedly) had this very distinct impression of light, I knew, quite simply, two things: that it was God, and that what I was saying at that moment was true. This brings us to the second, and related, observation: with this sense of "light" there is always conveyed truth, knowledge. Intelligence is always communicated. Occasionally it is simply certainty, but most often there is further insight, direction, or clarity of understanding. This is interesting, and I will have to come back to it later. However, it seems that the "certainty" part is at the heart of the questions for now, so that will be my starting point for next time.


Title: Descartes, Meditations on First Philosophy, Meditation 1

When they are learned they think they are wise

This may well be a topic not relegated to a single post, or even a single series of posts... it's central to my purpose and there's a lot that could be said. It may be said that the subject at hand is epistemology, which has occupied philosophers for some time. I will, however, begin with simply addressing the objection, as voiced by the Nobel prize winning chemist Herbert A. Hauptman, that you cannot be a good scientist and believe in God, and, beyond this, "this kind of belief is damaging to the well-being of the human race." I have put myself on here with science and religion comprising two of the three things which I've been thinking about and wish to articulate most, and while it is unfortunate that such a defense is necessary from more than a possible philosophical standpoint (I quite like Descartes and methodic doubt), it seems that I should first reconcile my trust in both of these viewpoints. After all, as Francis S. Collins, director of the National Institutes of Health and former director of the National Human Genome Research Institute said, "It should not be a taboo subject, but frankly it often is in scientific circles" (both quotes to this point are from a New York Times article from a few years back).

First, I would like to point out by counterexample that Dr. Hauptman, for all his genius in chemistry, must be wrong. Either that, or he must assert that Newton, Euler, Maxwell, Gauss, Faraday, Einstein, Heisenberg, Galileo, Cantor, Dyson, Kepler, Millikan, Compton, Copernicus, and... well... you get the idea... were not good scientists. I know this is not the first time this argument has been used, but I've never heard any adequate answer for it. The burden of proof certainly rests on Dr. Hauptman for this one. He may assert that Maxwell, because of his belief in God, was not a good scientist, but he'd better be ready to prove it, because I am quite ready to say that Maxwell was one of the greatest theoretical physicists that ever lived. The other possible answer to my objection is to claim that those on my list did not really believe in God. As to this, he must deal with the fact that Newton wrote more about Theology than Mathematics and Physics. I think it is hopeless to try to disprove the counterexample, and he does himself a severe discredit by ignoring such an elementary argument against his claims (any mathematician knows that it only takes a counterexample to disprove a claim of impossibility).

Now that we've got the obvious argument out of the way, I'd like to consider my own argument. To quote xkcd, "'Ideas are tested by experiment.' That is the core of science. Everything else is bookkeeping." This is the heart of the argument for me. I said in my first post that I know that God is there from my own experience, and emphasized that this is key. I don't think I can stress it enough. Science is about testing ideas by observation and experiment. By my own observation and experiment, I know that there is a God. Therefore, it's not only consistent for me to be a scientist and believe in God: it is actually inconsistent for me to be a scientist and not believe in God. To fail to believe in God would be to ignore the results of my own experimentation, which is precisely one of the things that makes a bad scientist.

"But," you argue, "What about others' beliefs? What about their evidence?" Well, I won't give the complete argument here: there's certainly need for considerable discussion on the subject of contradictions in belief, and that deserves a whole post. But I will give a restricted argument, pertaining only to atheists. For atheists, my argument is that they have no evidence against God. In fact, evidence against God is philosophically impossible. God is by definition omniscient and omnipotent. As a result, He can do as He pleases, in the most complete and literal sense, and there's nothing you can do about it. The Cosmic Microwave Background (CMB) does nothing to prove or disprove the existence of such a being: if He wants, He can allow, create, or disallow such a background by definition. The fact that we measure such a background is evidence that if there is a God, then He must have allowed or created the CMB, and probably allowed or created a Big Bang cosmology (as this is the simplest and best explanation for the CMB to date), while if there is not a God, then the Big Bang cosmology is probably accurate, whatever its source. Neither does evolution preclude His existence, by a similar argument. Thus, there is no evidence which excludes God; indeed, there cannot be: the theist can claim privileged information from an omnipotent being, while the atheist cannot control an omnipotent being sufficiently well to verify His nonexistence.

"Aha!" exclaims Richard Dawkins, "We may not be able to exclude God, but by Occam's Razor, it is best practice to assume that there is no God at this point! We don't need God to explain things, so it is simpler to say that such a being does not exist." Well, Occam's Razor, while useful, isn't a perfect method for dividing truth from error (indeed, Occam's Razor has given us several theories which were later shown to be only approximations of more accurate descriptions), but, more to the point, that statement is wrong. You may be a preeminent biologist, but you're completely neglecting that God is needed to explain things: particularly my own personal experience with Him. There are other things to explain, miracles and such (even in my family), but I will work from my own experience. Remember, the idea is to understand why I believe what I do about God, and this kind of experience has the preeminent place in this understanding.

Title: 2 Nephi 9:21

Why reason ye these things in your hearts?

I suppose that it would be worthwhile for me to first say why I would do such a thing as this... why I would add yet another useless blog (they're not all useless, but let's be honest, some are) to the overwhelming information on the internet. Also, it may be worthwhile to note a bit about myself, as there is a tendency for strangers to stumble on these things, at least occasionally. That is the purpose of this first post.

First, who I am, as it will make it simpler to explain the reason: First and foremost, I am religious (Christian, specifically a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, that is, a Mormon). By my own experience I have come to know that there is a God in heaven and that He has a Son, Jesus Christ, who died for our sins and was resurrected the third day. I also know that Christ's Church was lost from the earth for centuries because of wickedness, and was restored less than two centuries ago by God through a prophet, Joseph Smith. I say "from my own experience," and this is key, and will probably be the subject of my next post. But, regardless of the details (which I will not elaborate on now), it should be noted that this is the most important thing to know about me: for, having a personal assurance and certainty of something with such sweeping consequences, it is to be expected that it is the lens through which I see things. It is preeminent in my knowledge both in terms of certainty and importance.

Beside this, I am a Physicist pursuing a PhD at the University of Chicago, as of this writing at the end of my first year, possibly undertaking research in Particle Physics, possibly in Atomic, Molecular, and Optical Physics. I obtained a Bachelor's last year from Brigham Young University, also in Physics, working in the High-Intensity Laser Research Group there for two years with two of my closest friends. It's an experimental group, and much of what I did was experimental, but about half of it was theoretical. I'll admit that I'm proud of my theoretical work in that group, and the experimental work was really cool (sadly there's nobody around here doing anything at all similar), but the details would best be saved for another post, if anything. Since then, I worked a few months out at Fermilab on a sort of miniature project, characterizing a new detector for a dark matter search and developing data analysis tools for the search. I certainly have a scientist's mind, with curiosity, the need to test things, and all that, whether or not I ever make contributions of such significance as to be noticed.

The third thing that is closely tied to my writing is a growing interest in Philosophy. I suppose it's not surprising, being so closely tied to both science and religion. Politics has had its influence, too... I've found that I hate politics, and don't much care for the strategies of the major parties, and perhaps don't know as much as I should about candidates for election, but that I love political philosophy. So philosophy will be a central theme, sometimes political philosophy, but probably more often... not.

Three more things that may come into this: literature, music, and Romania. The last one merits a little explanation: I served my mission in Romania, I love Romania, and I've kept my Romanian at least passable (it's okay, I still talk to Romanians, but it's not what it was). These probably won't be featured extremely prominently, but I want them to come into play at least somewhat... so I'm going to try to make each post title come from one of those areas. I might put in something written that isn't technically literature (like something from a philosophical treatise, if appropriate), but, whatever. By the way, today's is from Mark 2:8.

Okay, little details: my name is Jacob, I'm the middle of five children, grew up in Washington State, and I'm prouder of the fact that I know how to love than anything else (it may well be that that comes into other posts). I've fallen in love, but things haven't really gone my way in dating, though somehow the girls that I've liked have come to be my best friends in spite of it all.

Now, the original question that prompts this post: Why? With that background, it should take me little to answer the question which is the heart of this post. I think a lot. Especially about Theology, Philosophy, and Science, and social topics (yes, the question, "Why can't I get a stable relationship?" has certainly come to mind and prompted all sorts of musings). Sometimes Way too often I want to write things down, but have nowhere to put my ramblings. So here I am. This blog is for me to put these things down. You can read if you wish, but you've been warned.

Finally, as an afterthought, there's the title of the blog: The Cluttered Desk. Well, it is what my desk literally looks like, but it also describes something of what I plan to post: my thoughts, hopefully organized into rational thoughts, but I will make no pretense of an overall organization. One week I will be discussing epistemology, the next my thoughts on D&C 88, and the next my ideal of courage. Hopefully each sheet of paper is meaningful, but don't try to get an idea of organization from the desk. If there is anything which I hope to convey (whether I succeed or fail), I should hope that it is me, my philosophy, my beliefs, as a real, living person.