One of the things that having Scott McKenna’s comments have done for me is to force me to focus more attention on assisted dying. Of course, this blog is about that, but it’s also about opposing the interference of the religions in the right-to-die, and sometimes my opposition to religion gets the lion’s share of attention. I don’t regret that, because I do believe not only that religion is one of the biggest obstacles to assisted dying, but that, in other respects, religion is a harmful influence on society, and we would be better off if the religions would take an appropriately marginal place in society, and stop trying to impose their priorities on the rest of us. But I also acknowledge that I have not done as much work on assisted dying as I should have done, so the last few days have taken up the slack a bit, and I have Scott McKenna to thank for it.
I think it is important to note that Scott has received complaints from “head office” about his speaking out in favour of assisted dying, as he mentions in a comment. So, his standing with those who support assisted dying has not been without some cost for him, but, as he says, “head office” isn’t the church. There are people who don’t hew to the party line, and they are part of the church too. Indeed, we know this is true, for, despite the fact that the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops tried very hard in the recent election to convince their members to support Mitt Romney, a majority of them, going by exit polls, did not. So, some Christians are better than their “head office” with their more worldly concerns of power and influence, and it is only fair to point this out, since my temptation sometimes is to tar all Christians, indeed, all religious people, with the same brush, and it is good to remember that many religious people, while remaining, according to their lights, loyal to the best that they see in the message of their religion, do not support the more extreme stands of their leaders.
Of course, one problem with this is that, by remaining in the church, those who oppose the church’s policies give the kind of support, in terms of numbers, that gives weight to church leaders when they speak in public and insist on being taken seriously by politicians and others in charge of public policy. For the churches, remaining relevant, in the sense of maintaining a powerful lobby position with the powers that be, is very important, since once you are truly marginalised, and no one in civil authority is listening to you, the less likely it is that you will be able to help shape laws which reflect the moral preferences of your particular organisation. A lot of people right now are saying that the Church of England has fouled its own nest, and has lost credibility, because, after decades of effort, the bid to enable women to be consecrated bishops has failed. A lot of people will feel that the Church of England is no longer a place for respectable people, because persisting in its rather petulant opposition to women bishops, while allowing women priests, they are showing a kind of selective sexism for which there is no justification. Needless to say, the Roman Catholic Church is worse in this respect, because they won’t allow women to become deacons let alone bishops, and, what with the latest scandal in the form of allowing a woman in Ireland to die, instead of performing a therapeutic abortion (of a miscarrying foetus), the message of the Roman Catholic Church about the value of women has been made rather brutally clear. I’m amazed that people still belong. Hilary Mantel, a few weeks ago, said that the Roman Catholic Church is no longer fit for respectable people, and I’m inclined to agree. If the only way to force change in the church is to refuse to associate with it and its antediluvian beliefs, then disassociation should be the order of the day.
My own breaking point came, as some people will know, when I read the Archbishop of Canterbury’s speech to the House of Lords in opposition to Lord Joffe’s Assisted Dying for the Terminally Ill Bill. In the course of that speech, Rowan Williams expressed the now standard position of the church — though he didn’t give it this name — called the “Sanctity-of-Life” doctrine. And here is how he put it.
All religious people hold, [he said] that there is no stage of human life, and no level of human experience, that is intrinsically incapable of being lived through in some kind of trust and hope.
He doesn’t state the point as starkly as some people do, because you could read this and miss the point that he is trying to make. It was an occasion for fudge. If he had stated the sanctity-of-life doctrine too boldly, he would probably have lost some support, but this is the sanctity-of-life in miniature, which holds that all life is sacred, no matter what stage of life we are thinking about, and regardless of the kind of experience that life is subject to.
However, as I have said, it is not as strongly put as some people might have wished. The real point that is being made by those who support sanctity-of-life considerations is that the value of life is not dependent on the quality or kind of life being lived. All (human) life is sacred, in sanctity-of-life terms, whether it is life in excruciating pain, or comatose life, or the life of a zygote, and we have an obligation to do everything we can to preserve life, regardless of its quality or kind. The American theological ethicist Paul Ramsey put it like this:
One grasps the religious outlook upon the sanctity of human life only if he sees that this life is asserted to be surrounded by sanctity that need not be in a man: that the most dignity a man ever possesses is a dignity that is alien to him. . . The value of a human life is ultimately grounded in the value God is placing on it. . . The sacredness is not composed by observable degrees of relative worth. A life’s sanctity consists not in its worth to anybody. . . [quoted in Keyserlingk, Sanctity of Life or Quality of Life, 11]
Notice that last sentence. “A life’s sanctity consists not in its worth to anybody,” including the person whose life it is. This is why sanctity-of-life is thought to override people’s own wish to die when their suffering has become intolerable, because the value of their lives has nothing to do with the value they place on them, but the intrinsic value that they have, regardless of their “owner’s” or anyone else’s opinions as to their value.
And so it follows that no one is the owner of their own life, and that people must be subject to restrictions as to what they can do with their lives. This used to be expressed by laws criminalising suicide, and while we do not, at least in Canada, have such laws any longer — although the law decriminalising suicide is very recent, having been passed by Parliament as recently in 1972! — this does not mean that the law legalises suicide; it was simply no longer thought advisable, as a matter of public policy, to convict people of attempting suicide. Successful suicides put themselves outside the reach of the law, although that was not always the case. At one time, the body of a suicide used to be treated in all sorts of contumacious ways, and his or her family was often rendered destitute, since the suicide’s estate was destrained by the state.
The question for the moment is: Can you still retain the sanctity-of-life principle and still support assisted dying? Scott McKenna says that this is possible. With the greatest respect, I do not think this makes sense. In his speech at the Royal Society of Edinburgh Scott McKenna essentially said that Christians and other advocates of that doctrine can both have their cake of sanctity and eat it too, suggesting that there is no conflict between the sanctity-of-life doctrine and the right to die, because, as he says, God has given us moral responsibility, so it is up to us what we do with our lives. And if they have become intolerable to us, and we seek relief by bringing our lives prematurely to an end, then that is a degree of moral freedom that God allows, because he has turned over responsibility for our lives to us. If that made sense, I would be only too happy to support Scott in his attempt to change the law in Scotland to legalise assisted dying. Well, I do support him, though I think he is on very shaky ground. Mind you, I think Margo MacDonald’s bill, limiting assisted dying to the terminally ill, is wrong, but, it might be said, it is at least a beginning. Pass this law now, and later people may be willing to consider broadening the terms of the bill, so that people with terrible degenerative diseases, whose quality of life has been diminished to breaking point, will eventually be recognised as legitimate candidates for assisted dying too. I think that’s wrong, politically, but that is not my subject here. My question, as I have stated, is whether assisted dying is compatible with the sanctity-of-life doctrine. I do not think it is.
The reason for saying this is simple. The sanctity-of-life doctrine basically states that quality of life considerations are irrelevant to what we are required to do with respect to the preservation and prolongation of life. That’s why Keyserlingk’s book (written originally on behalf of the Law Reform Commission of Canada) is entitled Quality of Life or Sanctity of Life. It’s a strict either/or question. If what you do for a patient is governed by quality of life considerations, then sanctity-of-life considerations are out the window. On the other hand, if you govern what you do for patients by sanctity-of-life considerations, then there is no room at all for considering the quality of life ramifications of your decisions. Indeed, according to the sanctity-of-life doctrine, the degree of pain or its duration is irrelevant to the question of care for that patient. The only choice, on sanctity-of-life grounds, is that every minute more of life is an unquestionable good, and therefore the physician must do everything possible to wring every last second of life by all the means available — and with highly technological medicine, those means are considerable. And this goes even for a very defective new born, whose short life is going to be one of constant pain and distress. No help may be given to such a new born baby to die, and put it out of its misery. Everything must be done to preserve and even lengthen its suffering, because, by sanctity-of-life considerations, every second of life is as valuable as any other second, and two hours of excruciatingly painful life is better than no life at all.
Intuitively, of course, this simply sounds mad, but these are the criteria that were applied to the “baby” in Ireland, whose life was considered so valuable that a woman was killed in order to prolong “its” life. That “pre-born” baby, to use the ridiculous jargon of the “pro-life” people (which, for emphasis, I call the “death cult”), had a life, so long as there was a heartbeat, which was equally valuable to the life of the woman. Every second of that “pre-born” baby’s “life” was of equal value to the life of the woman in whose body the miscarrying “pre-born” baby was living. The hospital authorities in Galway are going to make the rules more explicit, but, according to the sanctity-of-life doctrine, the policy of the hospital and the actions of the medical staff were perfectly in accordance with the sanctity-of-life doctrine.
What’s the problem here? And why can’t the sanctity-of-life doctrine be stretched so that these consequences don’t follow? Well, the simplest way to put it is this. The only way that you can justify suspending the sanctity-of-life conditions is to advert to quality of life considerations. In the case in Ireland, for instance, where there was no chance that there would be a baby which was going to survive, Savita Halappanavar’s life was sacrificed on the altar of a narrow-minded morality that cannot take quality of life into consideration. There was going to be no baby who would ever have had a quality of life outside the womb. The only life that “pre-born” entity would have would be limited to whatever experiences, if any, it would have in the womb for the brief time left to it. Ms Halappanavar, however, if the medical staff had not been hamstrung by the Vatican’s absurd stand over the value of life, any life, no matter of what quality, might have gone on to live a life full of pleasure and accomplishment.
Instead of that, she was killed. And that’s the important thing to notice here. Despite the value placed on life by the Vatican, Ms Halappanavar was killed as surely as if the doctors had held a loaded gun to her head and fired, simply because they were not allowed to think (or would not let themselves think) in terms of quality of life. Every moment of life is, from the point of view of the sanctity-of-life, of infinite value. That being the case, since any division of infinity is also infinite, they couldn’t make a decision for the woman and against that tell-tale beating heart of the dying “pre-born” baby. The result seems completely bizarre, but it is implied by the sanctity-of-life doctrine. The problem here, and Scott McKenna, much as I admire his pluck and humanity, is stuck with it, if he wants to continue arguing from the sanctity-of-life position, is that the sanctity-of-life doctrine does not permit the intrusion of quality of life considerations, for, once you do that, you have really surrendered the sacredness of life. The Archbishop of Canterbury knows this, which is why he worded his sanctity-of-life doctrine in a deceptive way in order to get it under the radar of the House of Lords. Had he spelled out the implications of what he was saying, he’d have lost votes, so he didn’t. But his point is the same as the pope’s, and no doubt was cheered on from the sidelines by Roman Catholics and others who also believe in the sanctity-of-life.
The truth, of course, as Scott McKenna rightly says, is that we have moral responsibility, and moral situations are often messy and difficult to navigate. Having an absolute hidden somewhere amongst your moral principles doesn’t help with finding the best answer to the moral problems which are constantly thrown up in the course of medical decision-making. McKenna wants to keep the sanctity-of-life doctrine in there, because then it looks as though he is not abandoning the Christian conviction that the value of life does not derive from its nature or quality, but from something completely external to ourselves. But the simple truth seems to be that, once you allow quality of life judgements to affect your moral decisions, you are stuck with quality of life considerations from that point on, because there is no way to make exceptions to sanctity-of-life rules without bringing in quality of life considerations. That, of course, will take some showing, but I think it is true. Attempts are always being made to distinguish cases where letting someone die is not equivalent to killing them. Here’s where the law of double effect comes in. You do one thing intending, say, relief of pain, knowing that a “secondary” effect will be the shortening of life. This is supposed to get you off the hook, but it doesn’t work. You’re still on the hook no matter how hard you fight it, and wriggle and try to dash away. There is no room here to show this, but I am convinced it is true, and so, once you have introduced quality of life as a criterion for decision making in some situations, there is nothing that can keep you from introducing it elsewhere. This doesn’t mean that just anything goes, but it does mean that we are not dealing with absolutes, and that is why Margo MacDonald should rethink her legislation, because it is internally inconsistent. If quality of life at the very end of a person’s life, when they have a terminal diagnosis, is a good reason to allow that person to receive aid in dying, then quality of life, at any stage of life, should be a good reason to allow a person to receive such help. It’s not a matter just of being terminally ill. It’s a matter of the suffering involved, and when someone has determined that their suffering is intolerable, and it is clear that only death can bring that suffering to an end, then it follows that suffering and choice are the only relevant variables here, and that terminal illness has nothing to do with it. But that is entirely a quality of life consideration, and has left the sanctity-of-life doctrine behind long ago.
If religions really believed in the sanctity-of-life then they and their flocks would bankrupt themselves to feed the starving, care for the sick and aged, and house the homeless. Since they don’t do this in practice I call humbug.
Now they might argue for sanctity-of-soul (and clearly they prefer to pray for people rather than provide human support on a large scale), but once you argue that, early departure back to the issuing authority is no great problem.
Instead the religions argue as if the length of life is sacred, or the numbers of souls are sacred. This strikes me as de-humanising. I do not regard people as a crop.
Hmm. I’m not at all sure about this. The problem isn’t simply simply having an absolute moral principle, but rather the CHOICE of absolute moral principle. An absolute commitment to the value of human autonomy, for example, would provide clear support for the rights of humans to decide what to do with their own bodies — whether those fully autonomous, mentally capable humans are pregnant women or seriously ill (or simply considering whether to ingest recreational pharmaceuticals, or deciding whom to enter long-term family relationships with, or…).
In short, the problem isn’t absolute principles, it’s that “sanctity of life” is a shit principle. “Sanctity” is a fundamentally flawed concept which relies on a non-existent source of value — to wit, God. The only source of value we can know with any certainty is that people actually do value things, which is a good reason to value autonomy itself — our capacity to determine for ourselves what we value, and to decide what actions to take in order to achieve ends we value. You don’t have to be a fully committed Kantian (I am certainly not) to understand the value of autonomy. You do have to be a fully committed — and therefore, fully deluded — theist to value sanctity.
Morality is necessarily a human matter. As Plato demonstrated conclusively in the dialogue “Euthyphro” some twenty-four centuries ago, even if gods existed, their existence would have no bearing on morality.
I’m rather against any ‘absolute’ morals for two reasons. Firstly, I don’t believe they exist. Secondly, many believers of absolute morals (religious or otherwise) end up trying to shoehorn messy lives and situations into simple rules – because the rules are ‘absolute’. The next step is some hierarchy which gives itself authority to enforce the simplified rules (they’re absolute, so cannot be challenged, do you see?).
To misquote a famous saying: Morals simplify, absolute morals simplify absolutely. Having said that I think it is possible to infer a set of morals from society, and human autonomy is a strong one – at least for Western societies. But there are other societies that privilege collective behaviour over individual behaviour: I can’t think of any society that doesn’t limit individual autonomy in some ways.
“moral situations are often messy and difficult to navigate”
I’ve never understood what it is that is supposed to make a situation or a decision ‘moral’. On your account it would be a deliberate refusal to apply normal principles of reason, logic and common sense. I can certainly see why that would make a decision ‘difficult’, but surely that’s only because the people concerned have decided to do it that way. Situations normally described as ‘moral’ are not inherently resistant to rational decision-making.
As for the sanctity-of-life argument, isn’t it just an assertion of the form “God wants it THIS way?” And as such, doesn’t it require empirical evidence to have any credibility at all? If Scott McKenna can provide convincing reasons to believe that God exists and has desires, and that he (McKenna) has some privileged access to those desires, then he has made his case; till then he’s simply asserting an unfounded personal belief.
Eric, what is your primary objective? To advance the passage of right to die legislation, or to convince the world, or at least all who will think rationally, that religion is absurd?
Scott McKenna says that sanctity of life is not incompatible with granting each individual the right to decide when to terminate her/his own life. Both his church’s “head office” and you are adamant that that is not the correct understanding of “sanctity of life”. Shouldn’t you rather embrace Scott as an ally in a cause you both feel deeply about and co opt “sanctity of life” for your own cause? Is there any reason why “sanctity of life” shouldn’t mean that every human life is endowed (sanctified) with an ability (and responsibility) to make moral choices, and that insofar as it is not in clear conflict with the welfare of the community, the community should respect those choices, including, the choice to terminate one’s life.
Choice in Dying will not become reality if it is packaged with militant atheism. It is a compelling moral cause in its own right, and can gain strength by welcoming all supporters, of what ever philosophical or theological bent.
Paxton, I’m inclined to agree with you. We need allies wherever we find them, and I find encouragement in a minister of religion who is prepared to stick his head above the parapet and support our cause with his own theological arguments. In a similar vein, whilst I agree in principle with Eric’s fight for assisted dying for anyone who is suffering intolerably and unrelievably, I feel that it is pragmatic to support assisted dying limited to the terminally ill as a first step.
Paxton, I’m of two minds about this. In one sense, any new legislation that would enable assisted dying seems to be a clear benefit. However, the basis on which that legislation is made is vital. If it’s only about terminal illness, it probably leaves out more people than it includes. The people who go to Switzerland are not terminal in the sense of terminal within six months or a year. If they wait that long many of the things they dread will have taken place long before they die, and while pain and suffering at the time of death are serious issues that need to be dealt with, to legislate only for those who are dying will seal the deal for the next fifty or more years — perhaps even longer, if the religious resurgence that seems to be happening continues to intensify — and I don’t want that to happen, because there are too many people like Tony Nicklinson around.
The sanctity of life principle — which as TPP says, is a shit principle — is the problem here, I think, and it has largely determined the poling that has been done on assisted dying. There is a sense that, at the very end of life, when someone is certainly dying, assisted dying can have little danger. Broadening that to include people like Nicklinson who are not terminal is — and here’s where sanctity of life comes in — inherently dangerous from the religious point of view, and therefore no one seems willing to go there, and this misses the point — again referring to TPP — of autonomy. It’s not about a particular condition or prognosis; it’s about autonomy, about the ability to choose. (Interestingly, that is precisely the conclusion that a Canadian expert on law and morality, Jocelyn Downie, has also come to.) And if we make a law that depends upon another criterion, then we may be stuck with that for several generations, and all the suffering that that will entail. That’s my fear, and why I oppose the way the discussion is being carried out. Dignity in Dying in the UK, after all (or is it just in England), makes terminality a condition. They are arguing for legalisation on the wrong basis.
We had the same problem here in Canada, by the way. Francine Lalonde, who introduced a couple bills that were defeated, based them on terminality, and there was no way she would consider changing them, despite out earnest attempts to get her to do so. I was opposed to her bill, and hoped that it would get amended in committee, but it never got to that stage. Also, if you read through the 1500 or so pages of the deliberations of the House of Lords Special Committee to consider Joffe’s bill, you will find the same thing repeated by several witnesses.
My concern, Haggis, is that what you call pragmatic support for a first step, may just stall the process at that point for a very long time. What we need to do is to widen the discussion, so that we don’t make that mistake, and while of course I support assisted dying for the terminally ill, I don’t want that to lead us into making a very serious error of judgement. My primary objective is to see legalised assisted dying which is based on the right principles, and terminality is the wrong one, so wrong that it will leave out of consideration all but those who, according to people like Paul Badham, are in the very last stages of dying. That is so great a mistake that, while I would not vote against it, I would not feel comfortable voting for it either.
Regarding absolutes, TPP. I agree with you, at least in part. Perhaps I should have said religious absolutes that brook no qualification, as I think sanctity of life is. Indeed, I had that qualification in the original, but took it out at the last moment. Perhaps I was wrong to do so. What I had in mind were absolutes which govern what others must do absolutely, absolutes which circumscribe choice in arbitrary ways, as, I think, the criterion of terminality does. Religious morality has moral absolutes which govern absolutely what people may and may not do, without qualification, like the Irish law governing abortion, which had enough force that a woman was killed on account of them. Perhaps it is hard to distinguish these from other absolutes, but you might say that sanctity of life is a moral principle, autonomy is a condition of morality. Autonomy does not say what anyone must do, since it is a criterion of choice. Sanctity of life puts a fence around certain actions, and places a curb upon autonomy. I’m struggling with a distinction here, obviously, but I think there is one.
About sanctity of life. Sanctity of life in the tradition is precisely as I have stated it. There is the choice between sanctity and quality of life, and never the twain shall meet. If quality of life considerations enter in at any point, then sanctity of life is being dismissed. Respect for life is a very different principle than sanctity, for respect for life, in the case of those capable of choice, is at least partly to respect the choices that people make. Most sanctity of life theorists, who want to be humane and compassionate, try to find workarounds that allow them to distinguish acts which are not acts from acts that are. Here is where killing and letting die come in. But a philosophical analysis of killing and letting die does not leave much room for a real distinction here. Since Scott McKenna has not dealt in detail with the reasons why he thinks he can have sanctity of life and compassion too, I do not know what his arguments are, but I think, within the tradition — and sanctity of life has a tradition in which the terms are fairly clearly spelt out — those arguments are much more difficult to make than Scott may think, but I am prepared to be persuaded.
Corio. I don’t think moral situations are not always as clear and indisputable as you seem to think. There are very complex considerations that enter into moral reasoning. Just because situations get messy, however, does not mean that reason does not apply to them, and I did not mean to suggest that that is the case.
I should add here, just so that there is some clarity about my point of view, that I am arguing for Elizabeth’s right to assistance in dying. Terminality would not have helped her at all, for she could have lived in intolerable circumstances for many years. Thus I cannot in conscience support assisted dying which is limited to terminality. I hope that is clear, for I would not want there to be any misunderstanding here. Terminality as a criterion, is a consequence of sanctity of life considerations. Some religious people seem to be able to get over the hurdle of assisted dying at the very end of life, but they simply cannot get their minds around dying before then, no matter what. Scott McKenna thinks he has a way around this, and I am very keen to know how he thinks this is possible whilst still holding onto the sanctity of life principle. But I cannot, in conscience, argue on any other basis than one that would have provided Elizabeth the help that she needed, probably long before she was, in the required sense, terminal. This, for me, is non-negotiable — an absolute, if you like! But while it is in that sense an absolute, I do not think a rational case can be made for those who have a terminal prognosis, and those who do not, if quality of life considerations are the basis on which the claim to assisted dying is being made.
Eric, I had thought it best to keep my head down(!) but I am truly concerned that we make progress on assisted dying, so here I am back!! I very much like what Paxton says, apart from his swipe at the irrationality of religion…but moving on. You state that it is either sanctity of life or quality of life – and that we cannot have it both ways. I disagree. Despite the absolutist rhetoric of the churches on the sanctity of life (perhaps save the Roman Catholic Church), most churches and many, if not most Christians (certainly in my experience) happily live with both concepts of sanctity and quality. I discard the absolutist position because it is not morally defensible and it is, in reality, not the position of the churches.
Usually what is meant by this language is that human life is incredibly valuable, to be cherished and preserved because it is endowed with worth; it is sacred, it contains something of the holy. Life is not to be brought to an end lightly. However, as I argued at the Royal Society, that is not the end of the discussion. The churches defend the right of a nation to defend itself; they defend the right of a nation’s armed forces to kill the enemy. They do accept self-defence as a credible defence in a murder trial. They can distinguish between the wife who has killed her husband after years of abuse in contrast to the killer who killed for pleasure. The Church of Scotland states that there are circumstances in which it is permissible to have an abortion, such as when the life of the mother is at risk. No absolute sanctity here.
You cite the words of Rowan Williams on the sanctity of life (although he didn’t use that phrase): I take your point but the Church of England is not consistent on this issue. In 2006, the Nuffield Council of Bioethics published its report entitled Critical Care Decisions in Foetal and Neonatal Medicine. The report recommended that in certain circumstances newborn babies should not be kept alive and that death would be discreetly hastened for babies in (terrible) pain which could not be alleviated. Crucially, the Church of England endorsed the findings.
It seems to me perfectly reasonable to argue that life is sacred, endowed with worth and is to be protected, cherished and valued while, at the same time, acknowledge that there are circumstances when it is reasonable, compassionate and moral to hasten the end of life when that life has become intolerable through pain and suffering. God hands us moral responsibility and we have God-given reason and the power of choice. It is not an affront to God to hand back that life; in the circumstances, it is morally sound. The crux of my argument is that, the Roman Catholic Church aside, the absolutist rhetoric of the churches on sanctity of life is not borne out in real life situations. It seems to me that this is a route that we can exploit.
Scott, it can’t be ‘perfectly reasonable’ to claim that life (or anything else) is sacred, when that argument relies on unreasonable claims about supernatural beings and their priorities. Take that out, along with the other unfounded Goddy-talk, and what do you have? Sometimes life is worth preserving, and sometimes it isn’t. I think we all agree with that, and the obvious next step is to establish who gets to make that choice. If you think it’s anybody but the person whose life it is, then you need to show why, preferably without reference to unverifiable Sky Beings.
And Eric, I never claimed that moral decisions were always — or ever — clear and indisputable, merely that the optimal way to make them is exactly the same as the optimal way to make any other decisions. There is not, in my view, any real objective content to the adjective ‘moral’. But I certainly didn’t want to imply you were advocating irrational decisions.
Corio, I have no idea what ‘Sky Beings’ are? Perhaps they are distant relatives of the Loch Ness monster or may be Big Foot? Or may be you mean the old man with the long white beard sitting on a cloud? By contrast, God is ‘perfectly reasonable’. Read some philosophy, starting with Plato, and you’ll see what I mean. As to choice, I have said elsewhere on this blog that I do support (God-given) choice, that is, the choice of the individual concerned. Choice follows from (God-given) moral responsibility. The principal criteria would be that life had become intolerable and the condition incurable. Like others, I think it is politically pragmatic to introduce legislation which allows assisted dying for those who are terminally ill but I would want that extended to others in due course – and there are many obvious, high profile cases to mention of individuals for whom life had become intolerable and incurable but that they were not suffering from a terminal illness. If I thought we could enact legislation now which included more than the terminally ill, I would support that.
Scott:
I think you probably do have a good idea what Corio means. One does not need to be a sophisticated theologian to understand what he meant by “unverifiable Sky Beings”. One also does not need to read Plato to understand what I think is his point about the lack of EVIDENCE for god(s), with the subsequent necessary lack of EVIDENCE that an unverifiable god is the source of morality or moral decision making.
I hope I am not speaking incorrectly about what you meant Corio.
Steeve, define ‘evidence’.
Scott, if you can empirically prove the existence of God to the satisfaction of sceptical atheists then please do so, and claim your Nobel Prize. But if — as I suspect — you can’t, since then you would have presumably done it already, then a little humility would be in order. You are currently in the position of an advocate of homeopathy breaking into an oncology discussion group with a request that they reconsider their position. It’s not ‘reasonable’ — since you seem to like that word — to assume that your audience are just idiots who can’t make an obvious inference.
Scott, while we are defining things, maybe you can get around to telling us what “audible Silence at the centre of things” means.
Or more to the point:
Scott: Define “god(s)” and God. Then state the difference between these two words.
And then, since word play seems like fun, define “define”.
Do you see what I did there?
To Eric: I hope that doesn’t sound too harsh (after reading your next post), but I think the discussion you are having is like what Jerry Coyne has had with “Sophisticated Theologians.” The thing that set me off was that Scott tells Corio (he doesn’t suggest to Corio – he tells him) to read some philosophy starting with Plato to see what he means. Now, Corio may or may not have already read some philosophy, but that doesn’t matter. Sophisticated Theologians often assume that you need to read such and such (often rambling stuff much worse than Plato) before you can have an opinion. Usually what you have to read is stuff they have read. It would be like me saying to Scott, “Read the literature about animal behaviour, especially that related to the evolution of altruism, starting with Darwin and you will see what I mean about evidence of God given moral responsibility.” But I wouldn’t do that because I assume Scott is arguing from an informed position and that he understands at least rudimentarily, the probable positions of the other people commenting/arguing on this blog. That seems only fair and reasonable so that threads are not derailed by comments such as “define evidence”
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