Testing the Theory
Empiricist philosopher David Hume observed that a
should can never be deduced from an is. By this, he
meant that human values are products of human thought, and are always
based on assumptions; values cannot be logically derived solely from
fact. However, having once decided upon a value, whether
arbitrarily or through thoughtful expectation of its consequences, we
can empirically observe whether indeed a certain behavior tends to
promote or detract from that chosen value. Here’s one of the great
advantages of approaching ethics from a critically rational standpoint
guided by evidence: By understanding what goes into our ethical system
and how it’s supposed to work, we’re prepared to test it in action
against the standards we’ve defined for it. Once a moral problem
has been identified, a solution worked out, and a hopefully appropriate
action taken, we can then observe the results, to discern whether in
fact the actual consequences are in accord with some specific objective,
such as our core value. In other words, we can advance ethics to a
quasi-scientific level, by using empirical evidence (a specific action
and its observed results) to learn whether a hypothesis (our reasoned
expectation that the action should have beneficial effects with respect
to our core value) is either supported or refuted. Likewise, in
some instances we can use evidence of behavior, either from public
records or from history, similar to the issues we’re investigating, in
order to formulate a critical judgment about whether or not this
behavior’s recorded effects correspond to what our theories predict.
The thing to keep in mind here is that we must
consider all relevant evidence, not just the bits of it that
appear to support our hypothesis while ignoring anything that conflicts
with it. And for this we must consider again the entire range of
possible effects. For example, if we’ve assumed that the action would
have no significant effects beyond the sphere of self and family, then
we must consider whether in fact the action has produced unanticipated
effects, not only at these personal levels, but on broader scales of
community, nation, species, or planet. Does an action in fact enhance
or impair the functioning of society? Does it unjustly encroach upon
the legitimate rights of others? Does it set an example, either good or
bad, that others might be inclined to emulate? Is it at all likely to
have some lingering effect on posterity? And even if an action’s
effects appear negligible when it’s performed by only a single
individual, would its effects be a matter of concern if the action were
to become more generally practiced? For example, if one person in town
routinely burns household refuse in his backyard, that might be a matter
of little concern so long as his immediate neighbors don’t object; but
if everyone in town decides to follow his example, this could very well
create a local health hazard, and an annoyance to communities downwind.
Thus, we reason that refuse burning in residential areas is a
potentially harmful practice to be avoided.
We must cultivate the habit of being brutally
frank with ourselves about the answers to such questions.
We must always keep
in mind that the true objective of empirical investigation is not to
confirm our assumptions, but rather to grasp the truth of evidence
and its real implications, as nearly as we can honestly ascertain them.
Success is measured in how accurately we shape our thoughts to
correspond to immutable reality, not in creating a pleasant illusion
that reality must correspond to our suppositions. Illusion is our
adversary, not our ally.
If earnest and thorough observation and review do indeed
support our assumptions, that’s obviously a happy outcome. However, if
they don’t, but we can still confront and deal with this unexpected
truth honestly, that’s also a happy outcome, for we’ll have learned
something worthwhile in the process, and have unburdened ourselves of an
erroneous assumption. We can use what we learn to further our true
objective, which is to bring our thoughts and actions into closer accord
with verifiable reality, and thus to alleviate or avoid future
difficulties that would otherwise ensue from a festering disparity
between belief and reality.
Ethics needn’t be a guessing game of conscience,
or blind obedience to authority. Approached in a methodically
investigative fashion, the empirical effects of a well structured ethic
can actually be observed to determine whether or not there’s a
consistent correlation between hypothesis and reality. If there is, and
if other observers acting independently attain similar results, and if
no significant and unexplained discrepancies are encountered, then we
could be justified in escalating the status of the hypothesis to that of
a genuine theory. Or if not, then we have reason to revise or replace
the hypothesis and try again. Approached correctly, it’s a win-win
proposition. In either case, we move forward incrementally on the basis
of what we’ve learned. This is how scientists—and other earnestly
curious people—measure success: by what they learn about reality by
investigating it, not by whether they can prove their hypotheses.
Granted, unlike physicists and chemists, ethicists can’t manipulate and
measure exact quantities of matter and energy. But like psychologists,
ethicists can often evaluate the statistical results of observed social
phenomena with a fair degree of precision. Over time, this moves
ethics—like primitive astrology toward modern astronomy, ancient alchemy
toward current chemistry, and natural philosophy toward nuclear
physics—out of the murky guesswork of mystical arts and toward the
self-testing realm of science. Whether ethics will ever attain the
status of a true science remains to be seen; but even the prospect is
exciting. And in the meantime, we can take advantage of the steps
already taken, to make our own ethics more reliable and consistent with
actual experience.
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Next:
Wrap-up