A View on the Possibility of an Ethics Without God

Abstract

This article addresses the question, “Is an ethics without God possible?” This question is explored in a special issue, edited by Prof. Dr. James P. Sterba, which directly poses this very inquiry. I argue that an objective ethics without God is epistemically possible. Having addressed this initial point, I then make the case that an objective ethics without God is metaphysically possible. In other words, there are plausible explanations to support the thesis that ethics exists without God. Lastly, I propose that although God is not required for ethics, it is reasonable to postulate God’s existence to realize aspects of justice.

1. Introduction

This article addresses the relation between ethics and God. The philosophical significance of this topic dates at least to Plato, and yet it remains a live issue in philosophy. Some have argued that God’s existence is a necessary condition for the existence of objective ethics. Others have contended that objective ethics is independent of God, whether or not God exists, and thus that God’s existence is not necessary for ethics.

Is an ethics without God possible? The special issue emphasizes this question and seeks answers to it. One can construe the question in various ways, depending on which version of possibility (e.g., strictly logical, broadly logical/metaphysical, epistemic) one is considering. Given that this matter is an open question in philosophy, I will start with the following construal of the question: Is an objective ethics without the existence of God epistemically possible?1 I will refer to this starting point as the paper’s initial question (IQ). This starting point is important to address in order to underscore that the question of whether or not ethics without God is possible is an open inquiry and live issue, which is thus not closed by a conclusive argument that has settled the matter to the satisfaction of all competent practitioners or by a dispositive answer that is known to be true and accepted as such by all relevant experts.

First, I will argue for the conclusion that an objective ethics without God is epistemically possible, i.e., for all we know, it might be the case that ethics exists without God. This is the initial claim of the paper, but not its single main claim. Second, having made this argument, I will defend the broader claim that an objective ethics without God is metaphysically possible. In other words, there are plausible (though defeasible) explanations to support the thesis that ethics exists without God. I will address four explanations, with emphasis on the “rationality method”, which I am inclined to think the best of the four. Along the way, I will highlight important aspects of morality, such as obligation, virtue, and the relation between the latter and happiness. Third, regarding that relation, I will sketch a Kantian-motivated position that although God is not required for ethics, it is reasonable to postulate God’s existence to realize aspects of justice.

I am not attempting a conclusive argument or last word on the relation between God and ethics, nor am I trying to demonstrate that God does or does not exist. Indeed, my paper will suggest that there are no conclusive arguments on the matter. Moreover, I am not taking a position on the best explanation for the existence of objective ethics. I aim at a humble target: to outline a defensible case indicating that it is epistemically and metaphysically possible that normative morality exists independently of God, whether or not God exists. It seems to me that this target is one of the first steps to be taken in the larger project of answering the question about whether or not God is necessary for ethics. In any case, I hope that addressing this target supports the open nature of the question and thus helps set the table for further examinations.

2. Assumptions and Definitions

It is helpful to note important assumptions and definitions here. Let us assume arguendo that IQ refers to objective ethics and presupposes that moral realism (MR) is the case—or at least that moral cognitivism is the case (i.e., that moral statements are truth-apt or have truth value).2 With Wielenberg (2019, p. 124), I will assume that normative reasons are “objective in the sense identified by Michael Huemer. Huemer contrasts objectivity with subjectivity, which he defines thusly: F-ness is subjective = Whether something is F constitutively depends at least in part on the psychological attitude or response that observers have or would have toward that thing (Huemer 2005, p. 2)”.3

Kim (2006, IEP) provides a handy definition of moral realism MR: it is the ontological thesis that there are moral facts.4 Kulp (2019, p. 195) defines MR as “the metaethical theory that (i) first-order moral discourse is propositional, and (ii) there are first-order moral truths, which are true non-relativistically”.5 Let us also work with the following provisional definitions:

• p is epistemically possible if p is not ruled out by what we know, i.e., if p is epistemically possible, then it is not the case that “p is false” is known, nor is it the case that, given what we know, it follows that p is false.
• p is explanatorily possible if there is a defensible account a for p, i.e., p is explanatorily possible if, given a, p is a live option in our attempt to account for some state of affairs that requires an account.
• p is epistemically certain for S if, given the relevant evidence e possessed by S, S cannot be wrong that p.6 Alternatively, if p is epistemically certain for S given e, then p has a probability of 1 for S given e. Epistemic certainty is the highest epistemic status: that about which one is epistemically certain is, for that person, guaranteed to be true given that person’s evidence.

3. A Modest Proposal

Assuming MR, a modest argument concerning IQ can be articulated as follows:

• If it is epistemically possible that God does not exist, then given the assumption that morality is real, ethics without the existence of God is epistemically possible.
• It is epistemically possible that God does not exist.
• Thus, given that morality is real, ethics without the existence of God is epistemically possible.

In support of (1), we might elaborate that if we assume that MR is true, then (given that assumption) morality exists. Hence, if for all we know, atheism is true, then we are left with the position that ethics without God is epistemically possible. Indeed, ethics is actual even if atheism is true, given the assumption of MR.

Cromwell (1650) urged the General Assembly of the Kirk of Scotland to “think it possible” that they might be mistaken, motivating the rule that one should avoid assigning probabilities of 0 or 1 to matters that are not epistemically certain. In a brief defense of (2), one might note that, arguably, we do not know (at least not with epistemic certainty) whether or not God exists. This is an open philosophical question. It seems there are no arguments for or against the existence of God that issue a probability of 1; no such arguments are dispositive in the sense that the logic is valid, the premises are true, and all competent practitioners and relevant experts know them to be true such that to deny the conclusion is to be irrational. There are no arguments for or against theism that are accepted as definitive by all relevant experts. Moreover, there are reasonable, though non-definitive, arguments for atheism, such as versions of the argument from evil.7 Hence, it is epistemically possible that ethics does not require the existence of God. For all we know, ethics exists and there is no God.8

One might object here that more should be said to support the claim that we do not know9 whether or not God exists.10 To that end, I will sketch five brief arguments to support the claim that the existence or non-existence of God is unknown. I shall call the first the epistemic peer argument (EPA).

In the EPA, S is a relevant expert regarding the debate over whether or not theism is true. In other words, S has access to all the pertinent evidence, has thought sufficiently about the evidence and weighed it appropriately, and possesses and applies sufficient degrees of intelligence, intellectual virtue, and moral virtue to the matter at hand. In addition, S is not biased about the matter. Epistemic peers regarding the debate about whether or not theism is true are relevant experts who thus have access to the same evidence and, further, are equally intelligent, virtuous, and unbiased with respect to thinking about the matter at hand. By “doubt,” I mean the mental state of questioning the truth of some claim. One who doubts p is one who questions the truth of p and hence does not take his position on p to be conclusive. As I am using “doubt,” doubt does not exclude belief but is consistent with it. Both doubt and belief are degreed properties. In other words, one’s strength of belief can come in degrees, and one’s strength of doubt can come in degrees. For example, one might have some degree of doubt that the Dodgers will win the World Series and yet believe with, say, a 75% confidence that the Dodgers will win. Perhaps the Dodgers’ best pitcher is injured for the series, raising some degree of doubt that the team will win, and yet it is still more or less reasonable to believe that the team will win.

Here is a presentation of the EPA. (i) If S disagrees with an epistemic peer about whether or not theism is true, then S has significant reason to doubt his belief regarding the matter. Why? Assuming you are fallible and non-omniscient, if a relevant expert disagrees with you, then you have sufficient reason to call into question the truth of your belief, because relevant experts are worth listening to, since they have plausible information available to them about the issue at hand, have weighed it carefully, have the intellectual and moral qualities necessary to communicate wisely and fairly about it, and are in a good epistemic position to possess a justified belief about it.11 If a relevant expert disagrees with you about some belief you have, and you do not question your belief as a result of this disagreement, then you are plausibly open to the charge of arbitrarily favoring your own belief in the face of relevant counterevidence. (ii) If S has significant reason to doubt his belief regarding the matter, then S does not know whether or not theism is true. Knowledge is perhaps consistent with minor doubt but not with significant reason to doubt.12 Thus, (iii) if S disagrees with an epistemic peer about whether or not theism is true, then S does not know whether or not theism is true ((i,ii). HS) But (iv) S disagrees with an epistemic peer about whether or not theism is true. In other words, many relevant experts disagree. One can find experts supporting theism in the literature, and one can find experts denying theism in the literature. Consider Nagel (1997, p. 130), writing as one who does not believe that God exists: “I … am made uneasy by the fact that some of the most intelligent and well-informed people I know are religious believers.” Hence, (v) S does not know whether or not theism is true ((iii,iv). MP) (vi) If S does not know whether or not theism is true, then a fortiori, no non-expert knows whether or not theism is true. As Hazlett (2014, p. 51) notes, citing Frances, one does not know that p if one’s epistemic superiors disagree that p. Thus, (vii) no non-expert knows whether or not theism is true. (v, vi MP) Therefore, (viii) no relevant expert knows whether or not theism is true, and no non-expert knows whether or not theism is true ((v,vii) CONJ). It follows that, for both the expert and the non-expert, it is epistemically possible that God exists, and it is epistemically possible that God does not exist.

The next argument is from Frances (2005, pp. 24–25). As he notes, it is a template that can be modified for the debate over whether or not theism is true. H is a live hypothesis, and P is a proposition that cannot be true if H is true.13 Frances’ template is as follows: If S is mortal with respect to H, then H is not ruled out for S. (This is the Modesty Principle.) If H is not ruled out for S, then S does not know that P. (This is the Live Hypothesis Principle.) So, if S is mortal with respect to H, then S does not know that P. But in the actual world, or in a very close possible world, the relevant experts (the philosophers, scientists, etc.) are mere mortals regarding H.14 (This is the Mere Mortal Premise.) Thus, in the actual world, or a very close possible world, the relevant experts do not know that P. Now, regarding the live question of whether or not God exists, one can argue that if S is mortal with respect to the thesis of atheism (or the thesis of theism), then that thesis is not ruled out for S. And if that thesis is not ruled out for S, then S does not know that God exists (or that God does not exist). Therefore, if S is mortal with respect to the thesis of atheism (or the thesis of theism), then S does not know that God exists (or that God does not exist). However, in the actual world, or in a very close possible world, the relevant experts (philosophers, theologians, etc.) are mere mortals regarding theism and atheism. Though informed, they might be wrong about their positions on the matter. Hence, in the actual world, or in a very close possible world, the relevant experts do not know that theism is true and do not know that atheism is true. Given that the relevant experts do not know, it is reasonable to hold that the non-experts also do not know. Thus, since neither atheism nor theism has been conclusively ruled out, we do not know whether or not God exists, and God’s existence and non-existence are epistemically possible for us.

I call the next argument the epistemic certainty argument (ECA). If propositional knowledge entails epistemic certainty, then nobody knows (propositionally) whether or not God exists. Propositional knowledge entails epistemic certainty. Thus, nobody knows (propositionally) whether or not God exists. Thus, both theism and atheism are epistemically possible. Regarding the first premise, since epistemic certainty entails the impossibility of being wrong and the epistemic guarantee of being right, if nobody possesses this degree of justification about God’s existence or non-existence, nobody knows whether or not God exists. Concerning the second premise, for the sake of space, I will refer readers to defenses of the claim that knowledge entails certainty, such as Climenhaga (2021). The claim that knowledge entails certainty sets a high standard for knowledge. But philosophers such as the aforementioned, as well as Unger (1971, 1975), Klein (1981), and Stroud (1984), have defended or otherwise sympathetically discussed versions of that claim.

The fourth argument includes an empirical claim. Call it the no conclusive case argument (NCCA). If the question of whether or not God exists had been settled conclusively, there would be a definitive argument that all relevant experts accept as dispositive.15 We could point to this argument as empirical evidence. We could say “Look! The case has been settled definitively! On pain of irrationality, you must accept the final verdict!” But there is no such argument, despite the fact that some of the greatest philosophers of history have worked diligently on the issue. Therefore, the question of whether or not God exists has not been settled conclusively. Since the question has not been so settled, it is open for genuine debate among the relevant experts. Both theism and atheism are epistemically possible.

The fifth argument is similar to the fourth. Call it the conclusivity requirement argument (CRA). If one knows (propositionally) that p, then one has a conclusive (i.e., dispositive, definitive, case-closing) argument regarding p. There is no conclusive argument for or against the existence of God, although there are reasonable arguments on each side of the debate. Hence, we do not know (propositionally) whether or not God exists. Therefore, God’s existence is epistemically possible, as is God’s non-existence. This argument presupposes a high standard for propositional knowledge. Knowledge requires objective certainty, or something close to it, and the certainty must be demonstrable in argumentative form.

My five brief arguments above support the conclusion that the existence and non-existence of God are unknown by us humans, and thus that it is for us epistemically possible that God does not exist and epistemically possible that God exists. This conclusion faces a significant challenge from Sterba. Sterba (2020, 2024b) has revived the logical argument from evil (LAE), which had been thought to have been a failure given Plantinga’s free will defense (FWD). Prior to Sterba’s work, many philosophers working on the problem of evil had taken the FWD as conclusive and thus sufficient to settle the LAE as unsuccessful.16 Sterba has provided an interesting and perspicacious version of the LAE, motivated by the goal of applying the resources of ethical theory to the problem of evil. Sterba has argued that the existence of God is logically incompatible with the existence of especially horrendous evil, and since such evil exists, it follows that God’s existence is logically impossible. I will discuss Sterba’s logical argument from evil (SLAE) below.

Now, it is important to note that my task here is to show that Sterba’s argument does not provide knowledge of God’s non-existence. I believe that this is all that I need to do to support my view that God’s existence is epistemically possible. For Sterba’s argument to provide knowledge of God’s non-existence, in addition to being valid, it would need to have premises that are known to be true. Clearly, the argument is valid. But one can argue plausibly that the premises are not known. Here is how Sterba (2024b) presents SLAE.

(1)

There is an all-good, all-powerful God. (Assumption)

(2)

If there is an all-good, all-powerful God, then necessarily he would be adhering to Moral Evil Prevention Requirements A-C.

(3)

If God were adhering to Moral Evil Prevention Principles A-C, then, necessarily, especially horrendous evil consequences of immoral actions would not be obtaining through what would have to be his permission.

(4)

Horrendous evil consequences of immoral actions do obtain all around us, which, if God exists, would have to be through his permission.

(5)

Therefore, it is not the case that there is an all-good, all-powerful God, which contradicts (1).

In my view, (2) and (4) are not known.

Regarding (2), consider Moral Evil Prevention Requirement (MEPR) C: Do not permit especially horrendous evil consequences of immoral actions to be inflicted on would-be victims when a greater good would result from preventing them. MEPR C must be known for (2) to be known. However, MEPR C requires clarification before we can begin to assess whether or not it is known. At least four points require clarification. The first is a minor concern in itself, but sets up a bigger second concern. “Do not permit” is vague. It seems safe to construe “do not permit” as requiring an act of prevention, although it is possible not to permit and yet not act to prevent some action. For example, jaywalking might not be legally permitted in town t, although the legal authorities in t do not act to prevent jaywalking. Given the reference to “preventing” in MEPR C, I will take it that Sterba intends a strong sense of “do not permit” that requires corresponding prevention, rather than the weak sense of “do not permit” that is operative in the jaywalking example.

Second, on a strong sense of “do not permit” that requires prevention, there are two ways for God to prevent a free human choice to act: (a) by precluding the free choice in the first place, and (b) by allowing the free choice but preventing its especially horrendous consequences. Which view of prevention does Sterba have in mind? Both seem problematic. Suppose that human persons are essentially rational, i.e., that the capacity for rational thought and decision are essential properties of personhood and, moreover, that these capacities are at the core of what persons are and ground the autonomy and dignity of persons. On (a), assuming God would know our free choices before we make them (an open theist might deny this), God would preclude—countless times over the course of human history—what is essential to us, namely, rational choice. Such divine moves would seem to violate our rationality, personhood, and dignity as rational agents, as well as our negative freedom. What if our freedom and personhood are among the world’s highest values? Is it morally acceptable for God to act in such a manner and if so, why? If Sterba’s answer is “yes, because of the better consequences that follow from such prevention,” then MEPR C seems to rest on a consequentialist assumption that the non-consequentialist might reject. What reason is there to convince non-consequentialists to accept MEPR C? Further, it is not clear that it is possible for God to preclude our free choices while we remain essentially rational and free entities. If we are essentially rational and free such that these capacities are inviolable characteristics of human agency, can God regularly prevent our rational and free choices without also removing or undermining our personhood, at least in those instances of divine prevention? God’s doing so would not make the human realm a moral kindergarten, but arguably it would reduce human moral life to something like a moral middle school or high school such that human beings have not yet graduated into the adult world of free and unsupervised independence.

What about (b)? Here, I suspect that we are moving into the realm of mystery. What would it mean to allow a free choice but prevent its especially horrendous consequences? There are too many free human choices, and each of them has too many consequences, many of which are implicated in other desirable and undesirable events and consequences that ripple out combinatorially into the future in ways that we cannot grasp. I doubt we could begin to understand what might be involved in God’s preventing some of the consequences of our actions. Perhaps it would even be infeasible for God to do so. Is it feasible for God to tinker around with some of our choices and their consequences? But let us set this worry aside. How do we know that God (if God exists) is not already preventing especially horrendous consequences of human free choices? This question raises my third concern with MEPR C. What is an “especially horrendous evil consequence?” There are various ways to answer this question. One way is to suppose that, although there is objective evil, “especially horrendous” is a merely subjective concept. What if what we take as “especially horrendous” differs from what God considers “especially horrendous?” Which subjective interpretation wins out and why? Suppose instead that “especially horrendous” is an objective matter, and that “especially horrendous” refers to evils that meet the requirement for a certain degree of horror along a spectrum of evils that are more or less bad. What exactly is the standard? Where on the scale is it? Suppose that we do not know but that God knows, and that God has already been preventing the truly especially horrendous evil consequences. Furthermore, it is unclear whether these consequences are to be understood in merely quantitative terms of aggregation or in qualitative terms or a combination of the two. If a combination, how ought one to weigh the quantitative against the qualitative in what would be an incomprehensibly vast web of consequences? It seems to me desirable that more be done to clarify these points in MEPR C, and that sans clarification, one is within one’s epistemic rights to hold that MEPR C and thus (2), though plausible, are not items of certain knowledge.

A fourth point should be clarified. Does the use in MEPR C of “greater good” refer to the greater good for human beings only? For something else? Other persons? Perhaps for the world as such? Does “greater good” refer to moral goods only? To axiological goods? Here, one might worry that MEPR C presupposes that moral goods necessarily outweigh non-moral axiological goods. But suppose that the moral does not outstrip the axiological. Suppose, moreover, that axiological principles such as the principle of organic unities, the principle of bonum progressionis, and the principle of transvaluation indicate that a world with some horrendous evil might be, on the whole, a sufficiently good world that God is justified in creating, despite the fact that it contains horrendous evil.17 Suppose, for instance, that a world that morally improves to a great extent over time is axiologically better than one that does not, according to the principle of bonum progressionis. To apply a principle from Chisholm (2005, p. 314), if possible worlds are value bearers, an evil proper part of a world would be totally defeated if the world as a whole is not bad and transvalued if the world as a whole is good. What if a proper part of the world contains especially horrendous evil, and yet the world as a whole is good? What if, over time, horrendous evils no longer occur, forever sequestered in the past? On a super-charged version of the principle of transvaluation, the proper part that contains horrendous evil would be transvalued by the overall goodness of the world, which is a world that contains bonum progressionis. Suppose that God is ultima facie justified in creating such a world. MEPR C does not account for such issues but operates on an insufficiently developed conception of “greater good.”

Moreover, consider a fifth concern. MEPR C seems to involve the tacit work of a no gratuitous evil principle (NGEP). Especially horrendous evil consequences that are better prevented are ones that lack a sufficient reason to permit them, which arguably makes them (all things considered) gratuitous. Hence, it seems that the worry about such evils is not merely that they are especially horrendous but that they are especially horrendous and gratuitous. If this is right, then SLAE is not merely about especially horrendous evils but about a conjunction of such evils that are also gratuitous. A problem arises. How do we know that that such evils are gratuitous? How do we know that (4) is true if it refers to horrendous evils that are also pointless or unjustified?

From the proposition that we see no reason to permit such evils, it does not follow that there is no reason. One might respond here that the former provides inductive evidence for the latter. Perhaps so. But such an admission risks making SLAE a defeasible probabilistic rather than a logical argument from evil. Moreover, as Wykstra (2017, p. 111) writes, if God exists, what we can grasp when evaluating the world is vastly less than what God can grasp. Moreover, as Wykstra (2017, p. 113) notes, there is an important difference between situations in which it does not appear that something is the case and situations in which something appears not to be the case. For instance, suppose Jones drops his candy bar on the street and thinking about the five-second rule, says to himself, “I don’t see that my candy bar has unhealthy germs on it.” This would be different from Jones saying, “I see that my candy does not have any unhealthy germs on it.” Similarly, if we do not see that there is a point to horrendous evil, it does not follow that we see that there is no point. Hence, it is not clear that we see no reason to permit especially horrendous evils. Rather, it might be that we do not see a reason, which leaves open the question of whether or not there is one, as well as the question of whether or not we would be in an epistemic position to see the reason if there is one.

In any case, if SLAE contains the tacit use of NGEP, one might be justified in regarding SLAE as a version of the problem of gratuitous evil, which itself is construed as a version of the evidential or probabilistic argument rather than the logical argument from evil. If SLAE is a version of the probabilistic argument, then although it is a serious and reasonable argument, it is not definitive.

Given the five concerns raised above, SLAE (2) is arguably not an item of knowledge. Some of the points above count also against (4). For instance, what exactly is an “especially horrendous evil consequence?” Is it also gratuitous? Do we know that there are such gratuitous evils? Do human beings possess sufficient understanding to know that such consequences obtain all around us? Granted, we have an intuitive recognition of evils, including ones that are more or less bad. But are we certain that there are especially horrendous (and gratuitous) consequences, as SLAE uses that term? Perhaps, in the final reckoning, things are not as they now seem to us.

In light of the concerns raised above, it is reasonable to hold that SLAE is not a decisive, debate-ending argument that meets the standard for knowledge and thus eliminates the epistemic possibility that God exists. I conclude that it is both epistemically possible that God exists and epistemically possible that God does not exist. In the next section, I will address arguments to support the claim that it is metaphysically and explanatorily possible that ethics exists without God. I will present four approaches to defending an ethics without God, placing emphasis on the “rationality method”.

4. Four Supporting Pillars

Given what has been said so far, a prolepsis arises. One might reasonably reply, “Fair enough. But we cannot stop here. Are there supporting arguments to buttress an ethics without God?” There are at least the following four working (yet defeasible) methods to support such a position, making it metaphysically possible. These methods are attempts to explain the metaphysical grounds of morality, or the absence thereof, if there are brute moral facts. I provide them as an initial range of approaches to consider with respect to thinking about the project at hand.

One procedure to support an ethics without God is to argue that the Euthyphro Dilemma (ED) demonstrates that morality is independent of God and exists even if God does not exist. Baggini (2003, pp. 37–40) takes this approach to support his claim that “morality is more than possible with God, it is entirely independent of him” (p. 37). I will call this the Euthyphro Method (EM). The EM is a longstanding approach to thinking about God and morality, but it faces an objection and thus is inconclusive.

One might object to the EM by arguing that the ED is a false dilemma. Let us first consider a review of the so-called dilemma. I will present it using “good” rather than “pious” or “holy”, which are used in some translations of Plato’s Euthyphro. Does God command good acts because they are good, or are good acts good because God commands them? This is a question of explanatory priority. The structure of the question is such that it calls us to consider the following question: What explains what? Does an act’s goodness explain why God commands it, or does God’s command of an act explain that act’s goodness? The latter option seems to make goodness ultimately subjective and arbitrary such that whatever God commands is good, and wholly in virtue of the fact that he has commanded it.18 Call this the arbitrariness horn (AH), which threatens to make morality subjective and rooted in divine whim. The former option suggests that goodness is independent of God and serves as a standard God must meet to justify his commands. Call this the independence horn (IH). The IH threatens divine sovereignty and aseity, and it fails to explain morality in the first place. Neither horn seems palatable for the divine command theorist.

Now, Craig (2008, pp. 181–82) argues that the ED is a false dilemma, because there is a third option: an appropriately formulated divine command theory holds that God’s nature is definitive of the Good; God’s nature is the ultimate standard of value.19 Thus, morality is not independent of God, since the ultimate axiological and moral standard is God’s nature, nor is morality a matter of arbitrary volition, because God’s commandments reflect his perfect nature and are the source of our moral duties. On this view, the Euthyphro problem ignores a third option. God commands good acts because they are good. However, this fact does not make goodness independent of God. Rather, God is the standard of goodness, and God’s commands accord with his perfect nature. Hence, it seems, goodness is neither independent of God nor arbitrary, since God has a reason to command good acts, namely, that his nature requires such commands.20 We can, therefore, avoid the IH and the AH.

One might object to this construal of divine command theory. In what sense is God good? In “God is good” do we have a case of the “is” of identity or the “is” of predication? Is God identical to the good, or does God exemplify the property of goodness? If we have a case of the “is” of predication, it must be a matter of essential rather than non-essential predication, since God is not accidentally or contingently good. Otherwise, we could imagine a greater being, namely, one that is necessarily good. So, if we are working with the “is” of predication, it must be essential predication. But that would seem to make goodness independent of God, i.e., a property that is independent of God but that God necessarily instantiates. This option suggests that the standard for goodness exists separate from God.

One might reasonably hold that God is identical to the Good. God is “The Good.” As such, we are thinking about the “is” of identity. A problem arises: it seems we are left with the view that God is the property of goodness and thus a property and hence an abstract object—assuming properties are abstract entities. Quite plausibly, abstract objects are neither persons nor have causal power. Yet God is understood to be a personal being with causal power. As Schopenhauer (1903) noted, a nonpersonal God is a contradiction in terms.21

Here, it might be objected that it is not the case that God is the good, but instead that God’s nature is the good. However, the same sort of question applies. If God’s nature is the good, do we have a case of the “is” of identity or of predication? If the latter, we face the same problem: goodness is independent of God. Suppose God’s nature (i.e., essential properties) is not God. If God has a divine nature, which somehow exemplifies the good, then the good is independent of God. If God’s nature is identical to the good, then one might ask the following: What is God’s relation to the divine nature? Is this a relation of identity or not? If the relation is one of identity, then God is identical to the divine nature, which is identical to the good. This response suggests the Doctrine of Divine Simplicity (DDS), which faces several objections.22 For example, if God is identical to his nature, it seems that God is a property.23 If God’s relation to the divine nature is not one of identity, then it seems the divine nature (and thus its properties) is independent of God, which again threatens God’s sovereignty and aseity. The divine command theory and the EM are live options in the debate, but each seems inconclusive.

A second way to support an ethics without God is to construct the positive argument that ethics is grounded in something other than God, namely, human empathy or compassion. I will call this the Compassion Method (CM). Baggini (2003, pp. 44–45) also uses this strategy, as does Schopenhauer (2011, p. 74). The CM is not emotivism or some other version of expressivist moral antirealism. The CM holds that human beings have a sympathetic understanding of each other anent facts about our common sources of weal and woe. This understanding enables a humane feeling of empathy or compassion and, says Schopenhauer (p. 74), it is “this compassion alone which is the real basis of voluntary justice and all genuine loving-kindness.” In the CM, there are facts about human wellbeing and misfortune, about the pleasant and the painful, as well as facts about natural human empathic responses to such matters. Such facts constitute what Schopenhauer calls the “real basis” of objective morality. The CM is a version of moral realism, or so Schopenhauer seems to want to say.24

One objection to the CM is that it is unclear how descriptive facts about human misfortune or empathy ground the normative ethics of duty. How can descriptive facts about human psychology and “basic human instinct” (Baggini, p. 45) indicate how we ought to behave?25 Moreover, to ground morality in feeling or emotion seems to subjectivize ethics, if not make ethics a version of emotivism after all, and furthermore, it raises the Kantian objection that such a move cuts against our moral agency, making us heteronomous patients rather than autonomous agents.

One might reply here that we should give up normative ethics. For instance, Schopenhauer (2011, p. 66) bites the bullet and claims that there is no normative moral oughtness without God. Schopenhauer argues that moral oughtness is meaningless without God: “The objection will perhaps be raised that Ethics is not concerned with what men actually do, but that it is the science which treats of what their conduct ought to be. Now this is exactly the position which I deny. In the critical part of the present treatise, I have sufficiently demonstrated that the conception of ought, in other words, the imperative form of Ethics, is valid only in theological morals, outside of which it loses all sense and meaning.” In short, Schopenhauer’s argument is this: if there are objective categorical moral obligations, then God exists; but God does not exist; thus, there are no objective categorical moral obligations. Richard Taylor makes a similar point: “the concept of moral obligation [is] unintelligible apart from the idea of God. The words remain, but their meaning is gone”26 (as quoted in Craig 2008, p. 175).

Now, as the adage goes, one person’s modus tollens is another’s modus ponens. As such, one who agrees with Schopenhauer’s first premise could argue that if there are objective categorical moral obligations, then God exists; but there are objective categorical moral obligations, so God exists.

Why accept Schopenhauer’s first premise? Consider its contrapositive: If God does not exist, then there are no objective categorical moral obligations. It is not immediately clear why this claim would be true. Why cannot such moral obligations be (or be grounded in) brute facts? Why not believe that the world just is such that there are moral obligations? This question prompts the fourth method. But consider now the third method. The CM is not dispositive.

The third way to support an ethics without God is to say that ethics is grounded, not in empathy, but in reason itself. Kantian theory, ideal observer theory (e.g., Firth), versions of contractarianism that rest on the collective views of rational communities (e.g., Rawls), and other theories that base morality in reason (e.g., Sterba) appeal to reason or rationality as such as the ultimate foundation of ethics.27 Let us call this the Rationality Method (RM). As Star (2018, p. 2) writes, many philosophers hold that reasons are most fundamental to normativity.28 For example, Scanlon (1998, chap. 1, p. 17) roots ethics in the existence of reason and takes reason to be primitive in the sense of being something that needs no explanation, nor can it be explained by something other than itself. Sterba (2024a, Section 5) argues that the ultimate foundation of ethics rests in impartiality and rationality: the “highest moral norm of which is to treat all relevant interests fairly, and that norm in turn is derivable from an ultimate norm of rationality, the principle of nonquestion-beggingness.”29

One might object to the RM that, as with the CM, it is unclear why descriptive facts about rationality ground normative guidance about what one ought to do. A reply to this objection is to hold that facts about rationality are not merely descriptive but are inherently normative. As Gert (2014, pp. 78–79) writes,

“Although no view of practical reason, thought of merely as a psychological faculty, by itself has normative implications, it is nevertheless a short step from thinking of practical reason as a human faculty, to thinking of practical reason as a set of principles for the assessment of that human faculty…For many moral philosophers, the topic of interest when practical reason is discussed is not any actual psychological faculty. Rather, it is the set of principles, sometimes called “principles of practical reason” or “principles of rationality.” In this sense, when a philosopher claims that reason requires a certain action, this should not be understood in the causal way in which we might take the claim that digestion requires the secretion of bile. Rather, it should be taken in a normative way: to mean that if a person acts in some other way, then either that person or her action, by that very fact, comes in for criticism in terms of rationality. In general, contemporary discussions of practical rationality take it to be comprised by a set of principles in this way.”30

The fourth strategy to support the view that an objective ethics does not require God is to contend that the moral standard might be an abstract object, e.g., a property such as goodness. Here, one can argue that there might be objectively true moral propositions and real moral values in a world without God. Moral values might exist as abstract objects such that propositions like “it is good to help a neighbor in need” are true insofar as they correspond to relevant states of affairs grounded in the Good (an abstract object) and propositions such as “it is morally wrong to steal” are true insofar as they correspond to facts about moral rightness or oughtness. Following Weilenberg, I will call this position Atheistic Moral Realism (AMR), though one’s accepting the position does not seem to require one to accept atheism.31

Wielenberg (2019) argues that normative properties such as being evil are nonnatural (as opposed to natural and supernatural) properties. These are objective, sui generis normative attributes not reducible to some other kind of property (p. 127). He also argues that there are metaphysically necessary brute facts, and that some of these are basic ethical facts (p. 129). In short, objective morality rests on the foundation of basic ethical facts. These are necessary moral truths having no external explanation, i.e., they are brute. These facts hold regardless of whether any ethical properties are instantiated (p. 138).

Though not addressing Wielenberg specifically, Craig and Moreland (2017, pp. 502–3) object to AMR on the grounds that (a) AMR is unintelligible, (b) basic (brute) moral facts cannot ground moral obligations, and (c) it is “fantastically improbable” that the blind process of evolution would generate moral creatures like us who just happen to respond to the realm of moral values. They write, “It is almost as though the moral realm knew that we were coming. It is far more plausible to regard both the natural realm and the moral realm as under the hegemony of a divine Creator and Lawgiver than to think that these two entirely independent orders of realty just happened to mesh.” (p. 503). AMR is thus not definitive.

It is important to underscore here that accepting any of these four strategies is consistent with atheism but does not require it. A theist could accept these strategies, provided he does not hold that morality depends on (or otherwise requires) God. Can a theist find biblical support for the view that morality does not require God? One might do so by taking a philosophical interpretation of Genesis 22:1–12.32 This interpretation requires a reference to the ED and some imaginative thinking, such as asking oneself what one might have wondered were one in Abraham’s position.33

5. An Interlude

The story of Abraham’s journey to the land of Moriah to sacrifice his son Isaac can be read in such a way as to suggest that the writer proposes that it is not the case that God’s command of an act explains that act’s goodness. In the story, God commands Abraham to take Isaac to Moriah and offer him there as a burnt sacrifice (Verse 2). Abraham seems to accept this act as morally permissible because God has commanded it.34

We might imagine Abraham wondering about God’s command, as it seems normal for any human to do in such a situation. Perhaps the Euthyphro problem occurred to Abraham long before Socrates’ birth. Abraham might have asked himself, “Does God command good acts because they are good, or are good acts good merely because God commands them? Or is there some other explanation?” After all, in Genesis 18:25, Abraham reasons with God about moral rightness: “Will not the Judge of all the earth do what is right?” Here, it seems that Abraham assumes there is a moral standard of rightness independent of God and God’s judgment, which God ought to meet. In other words, since Abraham appeals to God, the cosmic judge, and picks out a condition of moral rightness, asking God to meet that condition, it is reasonable to construe Abraham as thinking of a moral standard independent of God that God, as judge, ought to meet. Hence, Abraham seems to grasp the option that God commands good acts because they are good (right) such that goodness (rightness) is independent of God.

Since Abraham (in 18:25) had already wondered if it was really good to destroy an entire city, Abraham might thus have wondered, “Is it really good to sacrifice Isaac? How could such an act be good?” He might have answered himself, “Perhaps it is a good act, since God has commanded it. And yet, when I was reasoning earlier with God about Sodom, it seemed that there was a standard of rightness independent of God that God should meet such that God’s mere commanding of an act does not make the act good. Could I not ask again with respect to Isaac: Will not the Judge of all the earth do what is right?”

As the story goes, at the last moment before Abraham would have slain Isaac, God commands Abraham not to do so: “Do not lay a hand on the boy or do anything to him” (Verse 12). The reader might reasonably construe this passage as indicating (or at least suggesting the view) that some acts (e.g., the sacrificing of one’s child) cannot be made right merely in virtue of being commanded by God, and that God issued God’s final command that Abraham not kill Isaac because such a killing would be morally wrong, independent of God’s commands. Perhaps God was teaching Abraham that a divine command to do x does not make x morally right. In Abraham’s religio-historical context, which seems to have included the practice of child sacrifice, it might have been common to hold that what makes an act morally right is that it is commanded by a divine being. The story, thus interpreted, challenges this religio-historical context.

6. Filling out the RM

In Religion Within the Boundaries of Mere Reason, Kant (2018, p. 39) writes, “So far as morality is based on the conception of the human being as one who is free but who also, just because of that, binds himself through his reason to unconditional laws, it is in need neither of the idea of another being above him in order for him to recognize his duty, nor of an incentive other than the law itself in order for him to observe it.” Kant seems to mean that, assuming we are free and rational, morality does not require God for us to recognize our moral duty nor as an incentive to motivate us to fulfill it. Moral duty is understandable to and performable by rational and free beings like us. Morality rests on what Kant calls the fact of reason. As the quotation from Kant stands, it seems to address moral epistemology and psychology insofar as it concerns discovering or recognizing duty and possessing the motivational wherewithal to carry out duty for its own sake.

Suppose we push the Kantian point further: assuming the existence of normative reason (i.e., reasons that are justificatory or obligatory, etc., rather than merely a matter of desire or preference), and that we are rational agents who are thus capable of understanding the requirements of reason, and moreover assuming that we are free to choose, morality does not require God for its existence. In other words, the existence of morality is fully explained by the existence of normative reason itself, and since we can understand reason and ought to act on its demands, our moral duties do not require a divine being or any divine commands. Instead, our moral duties are grounded in reason itself. As Kant (p. 95) puts it, “From the practical point of view this idea [that is, the idea of being morally obligated to “elevate ourselves to this ideal of moral perfection” (p. 94)] has complete reality within itself. For it resides in our morally legislative reason. We ought to conform to it, and therefore we must also be able to.”

On this view, morality does not depend on God, though (according to Kant elsewhere) morality gives us a justified reason to believe in the existence of God, since to practice the moral life requires (Kant thinks) the practical postulates of God, immortality, and human freedom (Kant 2004, pp. 130–36). Morality does not rest on religion; religion rests on morality.35 Regarding the first of Kant’s postulates, we ought to seek the summum bonum, and since ought implies can, the summum bonum must be possible. Yet the summum bonum requires that one’s degree of happiness be proportioned to one’s degree of virtue and dutifulness.36 Such a distribution of felicity according to virtue can only be accomplished by God. As Kant (2004, p. 134) puts it, “the summum bonum is possible in the world only on the supposition of a Supreme Being”. Moreover, since it is a duty for us to promote the summum bonum, which is possible only on the condition that God exists, “it is morally necessary to assume the existence of God”. Hence, the practical aspects of the moral life give us a reason to believe that God exists and will, at the proper time, guarantee the fitting distribution of states of happiness proportioned to virtue. So, morality gives us a justified reason to believe in God, i.e., a practical faith, though morality does not depend on God for its existence.

Note that the proposition that morality does not depend on God is not merely a reference to human morality. Arguably, any rational being is obligated to act according to the deliverances of reason. Suppose AI engineers create an AI android that is a conscious, self-conscious, rational being.37 In this case, humans create a rational being, i.e., a personal rational agent. And yet, plausibly, this agent is not the recipient of divine commands. However, as rational agents, AI agents would fall within the realm of morality, being obligated to follow its dictates.

At this point in the dialectic, one might object in this way: Why do descriptive facts about reason provide moral oughts? In response, let us first distinguish between normative, explanatory, and motivating reasons. As Star (2018, pp. 1–2) notes, normative reasons are considerations to do and believe various things; they justify our actions. Motivating reasons account for why we act such that we might take them to provide justification, even if they do not. As Wielenberg (2019, p. 124) puts it, motivating reasons “are psychological states that actually motivate people to act in certain ways” though they can diverge from normative reasons. Explanatory reasons are accounts of why events occur.

According to Darwall (1983, p. 19), normative reason is inherently normative in the sense that “reasons for a person to act bear on what he or she ought (rationally) to do”. In other words, as Darwall (p. 201) puts it, “Reasons for a person to do something are not simply facts about an action that motivate him to act. Rather, they are considerations that rationally ought to have force for a person and that do for a person who considers them as he rationally ought.” Persons are rational agents (p. 204), and all such agents ought to act as there is, all things considered, reason for them to act. Moreover, rationality has a minimal normative content: it involves principles that are normative for all agents with rational capacity (p. 208). Rationality as such is not a subjective thing. There are objective reasons, that is, propositions or facts that are normative for rational agents. These are not dependent on persons or their attitudes, and they hold even if there are no actual persons.

Here, one might ask, “What grounds or explains normative reason itself?” In other words, it seems either that reason needs an ontological grounding or it does not. If the former, what sort of ground? Perhaps a naturalistic ground or maybe a non-naturalistic one. If reason needs no ontological ground, why not? Reason’s Fundamentalism seems to hold that reason needs no explanation outside itself.38 A metaphysical naturalist who thinks reason has an independent ground might try to point to something in the natural world. One who holds that reason needs a ground, but that the natural world is insufficient to do the job, might look to some non-natural explanation, such as objective rationality itself or the autonomous rational agent as such39 or the realm of abstract objects or in the authority of some will (divine voluntarism or human voluntarism) or perhaps in human nature (e.g., natural law theory) or in the divine nature.

The RM faces another objection. Baier (1995, pp. 4–6) calls it “the rationality problem.” If morality is grounded in rationality, then the moral life seems at odds with itself. On one hand, rationality requires that we act for the sake of unconditional duty. On the other hand, acting for the sake of duty is sometimes not in the agent’s best interest. In other words, it might be imprudent and thus not rational (from the perspective of self-interest) to do what rationality requires (from the perspective of the categorical imperative to act for the sake of what is right). How can rationality be opposed to itself, and how can a divided rationality ground ethics? A Kantian answer to this question is that one’s degree of final happiness is proportioned to one’s degree of dutifulness and virtue.40

The RM is not definitive. It faces several objections, as do the other three approaches. None of the four pillars is conclusive, though each is defensible.41 But the RM provides a reasonable support for the metaphysical possibility of ethics without God.

7. A Kantian Middle Ground: God Is Not Required for the Existence of Normative Ethics but Is Required for Aspects of Justice to Be Realized

So far, we have examined a Kantian version of the RM, which indicates that, since morality is grounded in normative reason, at least some aspects of morality are independent of God, such as moral obligations. But what about elements of justice, such as compensatory justice, distributive justice, and retributive justice? Regarding the former two, as noted above, Kant claims that we ought to seek the summum bonum, which involves the obtaining of a happiness proportioned to one’s freely developed virtue. God is required to guarantee that such a boon (or bane in the case of one who freely developed a vicious character) is distributed to all persons, perhaps in some cases compensating the virtuous for their sufferings pre-mortem. Hence, the existence of God is a postulate of practical reason necessary for a commitment to practicing the moral life and counting on aspects of justice, although God’s existence is not necessary for morality itself. As Bielefeldt (2003, p. 159) notes, practical reason indicates that the highest good (that is, the unity of virtue and happiness) is at least possible, and that the condition of its possibility is the existence of God. Hence, the postulate of God’s existence takes on the status of a justified belief. As Chignell (2018) puts it, the justification is rational in a practical sense, highlighting a view concerning the ethics of belief that he calls practical non-evidentialism.

In a Kantian vein, one might also argue that retributive justice requires that those who are guilty of morally wrong acts are punished such that the severity of the penalty corresponds to the severity of the crime. However, the guilty are not always punished under the human system of criminal justice in this life. Hence, one might argue, God (and perhaps an afterlife) is required as a practical postulate, since God alone can guarantee that the guilty are punished and that their punishments fit their crimes (perhaps during an afterlife).42

This “Kantian Middle Ground,” as it has been developed so far, is open to the objection that if morality is independent of God, and God’s goodness somehow depends on a moral standard independent from him, then God is somehow limited and dependent, which is inconsistent with the widely accepted view that God exists a se. For example, is God morally required to proportion human happiness to virtue? Is this moral requirement independent of God, and if so, does this not rule out divine aseity? I will leave this objection for future examination with respect to the question of whether or not the Kantian conception of God is tenable.

Moreover, if God is the ultimate ground of morality, which is a view that some interpreters of Kant have suggested that he held, then how can the Kantian also hold that morality does not depend on God for its existence? This is another tension in the Kantian position that I will note for further examination. I cannot pursue the point here.43

One might also object that God is not necessary to guarantee that, in all cases, one’s happiness is proportioned to one’s freely developed virtue. A properly developed position on karmic justice might explain such proportioning. Or, the proportioning might be a brute fact about the moral realm. I cannot address these objections in depth here but must be content for readers to examine them further. One brief response is to note that the existence of God as a guarantor of such a proportioning is the best explanation of that proportioning. Since God is a concrete, omniscient, infallible, omnipotent, and omnibenevolent being, he possesses the resources to guarantee the proportioning. It is unclear what specific resources a karmic explanation would be prepared to exploit on this matter. Further, it seems hard to accept that the proportioning would be a brute fact. Does the world just happen to favor the virtuous? Is there a cosmic privileging toward or bias in favor of virtuous persons? What substantive reasons are there to draw such a conclusion?

Similarly, the argument that retributive justice requires God is open to question. Why could not a cosmic karma handle the problem of retributive justice? Why is it not a brute fact that the guilty are always (ultimately) punished in a manner that fits their crimes? Again, one might respond that the existence of God is the best explanation for the problem of retributive justice. God (assuming God exists) possesses the resources to solve the problem. It is not clear that a cosmic karma could handle the problem, and the idea that retributive justice always obtains in the end as a matter of brute fact seems untenable.

Lastly, one might object that the Kantian position is not compelling, since it is merely a postulation of God’s existence for the sake of adopting the moral point of view. In response, one might note that the position is not meant to be compelling but merely to justify belief in and practice of the moral life. Such a justification is a practical non-evidentialism. It is a practical application of human reason not a theoretical or speculative employment thereof. As Kant (1964, p. 131) might put it, given that we do not know whether or not God exists, the objection is no discredit to the position but rather a recognition of the limits of human reason insofar as it “presses forward to its very limit,” which is “all that can be fairly asked” of philosophy—at least the Kantian conception thereof.44

8. Conclusions

I have argued that an ethics without God is both epistemically and metaphysically possible, emphasizing the view that morality is grounded in rationality. I have also proposed, on broadly Kantian grounds, that although morality is grounded in rationality, there are adequate reasons related to the summum bonum, as well as to aspects of justice, to postulate the existence of God, not as a ground of morality but rather as the cosmic guarantor that the summum bonum is realized and that these aspects of justice obtain. In addition, I have noted tensions that seem to be present in this Kantian position, leaving them as possible points of exploration for future work. My position on the matter is thus somewhat aporetic and yet apposite for further investigation. The arguments I present seem defensible but inconclusive, providing a range of options to consider that fit the open nature of the question about the possibility of ethics without God and that might motivate readers to develop additional contributions.