The Bronze Age Mindset discussion at The American Mind has become a symposium.
Of particular interest to me at the moment is Dan DeCarlo’s entry, An Epic Pervert, because it takes on, albeit in passing, something that I’ve been stewing over for some time now: is the natural-law/natural-rights theory of the American Founding sustainable without belief in God? The question has bothered me rather acutely since reading Thomas West’s The Political Theory of the American Founding, and since engaging with the book’s reviewer, Michael Anton, by email (and in these pages), a year ago.
In a conversation about this in an online forum, Bill Vallicella suggested one could assert that natural rights are philosophical abstracta:
Why not say that natural rights are just ‘there’ independently of the dictates of gods or mortals, and independently of their being respected or violated? Analogy: there are necessary truths, among them, the truths of logic and mathematics. A necessary truth is true in all possible worlds. Consider a world W in which there are no minds and no physical items either. Is the true proposition that there are even primes true in W? It is plausible to say Yes. But if the proposition is true in W, then it exists in W. (Anti-Meinong: an item x cannot have a property unless x exists.) Now if a truth can exist in the absence of mind (whether finite or divine) and matter, why can’t rights?
Think of a right as a kind of abstract object. If abstracta in general can exist apart from mind and matter, why not rights?
He continued:
From a practical-political POV, bringing God into political discussions in a pluralistic society is not advisable. It only incites leftists. For example, it is a mistake to bring God into the abortion debate since a powerful case against abortion can be made without the invocation of any religious premise. Why poke a pig with an unnecessary stick? Similarly, don’t say we get our rights from God. Stick to the negative claim that they don’t come from the state or from the Squad. Just say that rights such as the rights to life and liberty are natural, not conventional, and then go on to explain what could go wrong if rights are viewed as conferred by whomever is in power.
The problem with all of this is that it diverges dangerously from the political theory of the Founding. After all, it’s right there in the Declaration: “…endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights…”
The problem is this: we hear all the time that America is unique in history in that it is a “proposition nation”: a nation built on an idea, rather than the usual basis of ethnic kinship. But if that’s all that’s available to hold the nation together — we are told, loudly, every day, that it cannot possibly be anything else, and that to think otherwise is “deplorable” — then we need to be clear about what that ideas is. Thomas West has made an extremely compelling argument that the political theory of natural law and natural rights is the essential principle of the American Founding. But if this “proposition” is all that we have, then it needs either to be accepted as an axiom, or demonstrated as a theorem. Is this possible in America today?
What might have seemed axiomatic to most people in 1776 no longer does today. In a secular, pluralistic and deeply divided society, in which tradition means nothing and every cherished principle is to be brought into the dock and made to account for itself, it’s not enough just to say “I have discerned these natural rights to be abstractions that simply exist, as a brute fact.” After all, whoever you’re arguing with can just say in response, “Well, I don’t think they exist at all”. What then?
The Founders knew very well even that even in their own time, some sort of argument was needed in order to persuade the skeptical, and they had three. They were:
1) That the laws of nature, and therefore natural rights, were established by “the God of nature”: that because God exists and created the world, that he would also create laws by which it would be ordered. These laws are discoverable by reason, and can be trusted (and should be obeyed) because they come from God, the Creator of the world, the perfect exemplar of goodness, and the possessor of absolute wisdom about what is best for us.
2) That natural law is perceptible by our moral sense;
3) That the natural law is discoverable by reason, by considering the natural “fitness of things” — in particular the conduciveness of liberty to happiness. Under this head is the idea that while it is right and just for God, in his infinite omniperfection, to be sovereign over all men, men themselves are alike enough in their imperfections that none has an inherent right of sovereignty over another.
Three readily apparent objections are possible:
Argument 1) rests upon belief in God. This was not controversial in the late 1700s, but it is today. (Back then, someone making a political argument would try his best to adduce Divine grounding; now it’s something that one tries to avoid.)
Argument 2) doesn’t tell us why we ought to obey our moral sense, or whose moral determinations are to be believed.
Argument 3) immediately descends into utilitarian arguments, definitions of “happiness”, etc. (In an email to me, which I posted here, Michael Anton answered, in much the same way that Professor West does in his book, the question of just why it is that the obvious superiority — in wisdom, intelligence, character, and education — of some people over others does not give them as much of a defensible claim to sovereignty as, say, a parent has over a child. It is a good argument, but it is, however, a practical argument rather than a natural-rights argument, and the consequences of completely abandoning the idea there may be some justifiable discrimination in the popular distribution of sovereignty — some Democrats have seriously suggested extending the franchise to sixteen-year-olds — may in practice be worse than the toleration of some natural inequality. This difficulty is of course made much worse by the admission en masse of people with no natural aptitude for, or experience with, the forms and duties of republican government.)
Professor West, in chapter 4 of The Political Theory of the American Founding, takes up each of these arguments in turn, but allows that each one, running into the objections above, falls short of compelling agreement. Even 3), which he seems to think the strongest, can only be held, in Kantian terms, as a weaker sort of imperative (my italics):
In Kantian language, it leads to a hypothetical imperative (if you want to be happy, obey the laws of nature) rather than a categorical one (it is your moral duty to obey the laws of nature). The laws of nature, founded in reason’s judgment of what is useful for human life and happiness, become morally obligatory only when they take on a juridical or legal character. If moral laws are not commands, they are only suggestions…
I do not doubt that the founders believed in the sacredness of the rights of mankind. However, we must acknowledge that reason does not lead to moral absolutes, even if political life depends in some sense on the belief in moral absolutes.
And that’s my question: if the political life of a “proposition nation” depends upon belief in its propositions, and if all of those propositions rest upon a foundation of natural law and natural rights — i.e., discernable moral absolutes — then how can it survive without a compelling basis for belief in that foundation? And doesn’t belief in the American foundation, given the weakness of arguments 2) and 3) above, require belief in God?
Along with many of the other Founders, John Adams certainly thought so:
“Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.”
The more pluralistic the society, and especially the more secular, the less chance there is of any sort of common agreement about the content of America’s essential principles — or, more to the point, about why we should believe in them at all. I am not at all confident that this can be fixed.