Category: Philosophy

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To the God Who Might Be There

By Jim Spiegel

During my first year of graduate school I went through a brief crisis of faith, largely due to the influence of a particular professor who was especially adamant in his religious skepticism.  In fact, you might say he was—pardon the oxymoron—a dogmatic skeptic.  After a few weeks in his class I found myself struggling with doubts of my own and entertaining the thought that my Christian commitment was based on a lie.  What if, after all, God did not exist?  I recall one evening as I went to pray sensing the potential absurdity of what I was about to do—quietly thanking and praising a fictitious deity, and making assorted requests to someone who was not there.  The usual feeling of God’s presence, an ineffable intuition that was reliable until then, was gone.  What to do?  I suppose I could have allowed that feeling, or the lack thereof, to dictate a decision not to pray at all.  But as I sat there I tried to make a rational assessment of the situation.  If there really is no God, I wondered, then what harm will it do to pray?  At worst, I mutter to myself for a few minutes and perhaps benefit from the meditative discipline involved in the process.  On the other hand, if God is real, despite my failure to sense his presence, then he will hear my prayers and perhaps respond to my pleas to make his presence known to me again as before.  And perhaps he will reward me by giving me more assurance than ever that he is real since my prayers in that state would be an even greater act of faith than my usual prayers prompted by the confidence that he exists.  I’m not sure how lucid this reasoning was, but that was my thought process.

So I prayed.  I prayed then and several other times during that period to the God who might be there.  And as the days went by, my assurance of God’s existence did return—and yes, stronger than ever.  Would that confidence have returned eventually had I ceased praying?  I don’t know.  But I’m glad I did it, since I believe that not only did God hear those prayers but it was also a good exercise in devotional perseverance.  The Scriptures tell us that God rewards those who earnestly seek him, and this would seem to apply just as much to the person who doubts his existence as to the person who is confident that he is real but simply wants to learn more about him or grow closer to him.

Some would label this approach to finding God a “devotional experiment.”  If you are agnostic or even a less-than-dogmatic atheist, and you recognize at least the possibility that God exists, then try praying to the God who might be there.  You never know what you might discover as a result.

As I’ve been thinking about this lately, I quite coincidentally stumbled upon an upcoming article in the International Journal for Philosophy of Religion by philosopher T. J. Mawson (who teaches at St. Peter’s College in Oxford) in which he argues that atheists have an epistemic obligation to pray that God would help them to stop being atheists.  I have not read the article (because it’s not yet available in print and I don’t have an electronic subscription to the journal), but it appears that Mawson’s claim is that given the mere possibility of God’s existence and the monumental significance of his existence and our devotion to him, if he does exist, then one should invite God to correct one’s misimpression that he does not exist.  Thus, says Mawson, atheists should pray that God will put an end to their religious unbelief.  An arresting thought, indeed.  And, no doubt, it will be irksome to some atheists.  Yet perhaps there are some who would follow Mawson’s counsel and dare to pray, as I did, to the God who might be there.

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An Atheist Meets God

By Jim Spiegel

Anyone familiar with the philosophical history of atheism knows that twentieth century British scholar A. J. Ayer is one of the most prominent atheists of the modern period.  He was a leading figure in the movement known as Logical Positivism, and his Language, Truth, and Logic is one of the definitive statements of this radical empiricist orientation.  Like other positivists, Ayer did not merely reject theism as false but insisted that the claim that there is a God is cognitively meaningless.  (He made the same claim about moral statements, by the way, which he claimed to be nothing more than expressions of emotion.)

Toward the end of his life, Ayer had a near death experience, the content of which he reported in his fascinating essay “What I Saw When I Was Dead.”  Upon its publication, many were surprised to learn that, despite this seemingly supernatural experience, Ayer did not budge from his atheism but remained convinced that there is no God.  Indeed, for a long time after reading the essay, I was puzzled over this.

But twelve years later Ayer’s attending physician, Dr. Jeremy George, revealed that Ayer might not have been completely forthcoming about his experience and the actual conclusion he drew from it.  Dr. George claimed that Ayer confided to him, “I saw a divine being.”  Then Ayer added, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to revise all my various books and opinions.”  Well, now that’s quite a confession.  If true, Ayer’s change of mind would certainly rival that of Antony Flew in terms of significance.  Indeed, if Flew had a challenger in the twentieth century as the “the world’s most notorious atheist” (as the subtitle of Flew’s recent book tags him), Ayer is probably it.

But is Dr. George’s account to be trusted?  Read Peter Foges’ recent essay in Lapham’s Quarterly, entitled “An Atheist Meets the Masters of the Universe”, and judge for yourself.  I would also recommend reading all of the comments that follow.  It’s an instructive conversation that well illustrates the fundamental differences in outlook between theists and atheists.

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Hell and the Undermining of Heavenly Happiness

By Jim Spiegel

Lately, I’ve been pondering some of Thomas Talbott’s arguments against the traditional doctrine of hell (in his 1990 Faith and Philosophy essay “The Doctrine of Everlasting Punishment”).  He makes many interesting points, both in criticism of eternal conscious torment and in defense of universalism.  One of the things he discusses is how damnation of the lost will affect those who go to heaven.  I’m sure that most Christians have wondered how we could be truly happy in heaven if we knew that some of our loved ones were suffering the agonies of hell.  Talbott addresses a few popular lines of response to this problem.

First, some argue that when we get to heaven we will be see the justice in God’s damnation of our loved ones, so it won’t cause us sorrow or otherwise undermine our happiness.  But Talbott notes that seeing the justice in our loved ones’ punishment would not eliminate the sadness of their plight.  After all, even when our loved ones suffer just punishment in this life, we are still reasonably sorrowful about it.  Moreover, we could still regret that God did not move in the hearts of our loved ones to prompt repentance in them as he did those of us who are redeemed.

A second way of dealing with this problem is to propose that God will change our attitude towards our lost loved ones.  In short, God will turn our love for them into hatred.  We will despise them for their wickedness, just as God does (assuming that God truly hates those he damns, as the traditional view seems to entail). This approach is even more problematic, however, since (1) God commands us to love others, even our enemies, and (2) our love for those closest to us is so tied up with who we are that to so dramatically change such attitudes and affections would be to fundamentally alter one’s character.

So if these lines of response are of no help in explaining how we could be happy in heaven despite the on-going agonies of some of our loved ones, then what alternative explanation is more promising?  If there are no better approaches, then chalk this up as another point against the doctrine of eternal conscious torment.  

Talbott recognizes that affirming the eventual annihilation of the damned does circumvent this problem, which is somewhat of a relief to me, as a conditional immortalist.  Still, his analysis left me wondering whether even conditional immortalism supplies a sufficient shield against this problem.  After all, might we not also be saddened that some of our loved ones were destroyed and that we will never see them again?  This, too, appears to undermine our heavenly happiness.  Clearly, the problem is not as severe for conditional immortalism as it is for the traditional view of hell.  Given conditionalism, at least the sufferings of your loved ones will eventually end.  Not so for the traditionalist, whose loved ones’ unspeakable agony will continue for eternity.

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Solving the Euthyphro Problem

By Jim Spiegel

Among the issues debated between theists and atheists is the question of God’s relation to ethics.  Many theists, including myself, maintain that without God there is no foundation for ethics.  Not only does atheism fail to provide any ultimate motivation to live virtuously but the very concept of moral goodness is undermined.  Atheists, of course, beg to differ, insisting that the concept of goodness can be adequately understood in terms of natural facts about the world, such as pleasure or human survival.  And as for moral motivation, most atheists seem to maintain that the goal of making this life the best it can be provides sufficient grounds for good behavior.

Not only do atheists (typically) maintain that ethics (both the concept of the good and the incentive to live rightly) is possible without God, they also often argue that God actually undermines ethics.  That is, they claim, ethical theories that appeal to God are problematic at best and incoherent at worst.  And it’s interesting to see how often they trot out a 2500-year-old argument, originating with Socrates (who, ironically enough, was himself a theist).  The argument, commonly known as the “Euthyphro dilemma,” originally took this form:  Do the gods love piety because it is pious, or is something pious because the gods love it?”  Transposed into the context of a theistic (rather than polytheistic) divine command ethic, the dilemma looks like this:

1. Does God command X because it is good

               or

2. Is X good because God commands it?

 The question might appear trifling, but it does have some bite to it.  If we opt for (1), then something besides God’s commanding a behavior makes it good.  That is, the standard for goodness is not God’s commands, which seems to flout the notion that God is the foundation of ethics.  On the other hand, if we go with option (2), then this prompts the question why God commanded X, so it is really no answer at all.  Now, one could insist that this “why” question admits of no answer and that God’s commands are ultimately arbitrary.  But, then, this implies that God could just as well have commanded that we rape, murder, and steal from one another and, consequently, such behaviors would have been just as moral as kindness, compassion, and generosity are now.  This seems absurd, so option (2) is no more appealing than option (1).

The theist appears to be stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place here—specifically the options of admitting either that God is not the foundation of ethics or that God’s commands are arbitrary.   Is there a way out for the theist who insists that God is foundational to—or in any way crucially related to—ethics?  Many atheists and agnostics believe this argument to be devastating.  But, really, the solution is quite simple (as evidenced by the fact that in every one of my philosophy classes in which this argument is discussed some student solves the riddle on his or her own, or else with just a little Socratic leading by yours truly).  Can you figure it out?  See if you can do so before reading the next paragraph.

The best response—as I see it anyway—is to take the approach of Thomas Aquinas, among many others, and go with option (1) but to qualify this in an important way.  Yes, God commands what he does because those things are good, but the standard for goodness is not something external to God.  Rather, the divine nature is the moral standard.  It is the character of God which determines how God commands us to behave.  This explains why Scripture often uses the term “godly” and “godliness” as synonyms for moral goodness or piety.  They are one and the same thing.  To be moral is to reflect the moral nature of God.  So each divine command is essentially a specific application of the general command to morally imitate God.  Moreover, given this approach, divine commands are not properly conceived as the source of goodness but rather they serve the function of making the standard of goodness known.  That is, the role of divine commands is epistemological, whereas God’s character is the ontological ground of ethics.

Of course, atheists and many others will object that defining moral goodness in terms of the divine nature begs the question, Why call God’s nature good?  But this question could be asked about any proposed ultimate standard for ethics (e.g., pleasure, human survival, universalizability, etc.).  If there is indeed a moral standard, then its goodness must be fundamental, absolute, and inexplicable.  The nature of God is far superior to any alternative proposal because God is a being, not a mere concept or ideal.  Moreover, this Thomistic approach has the additional virtue of paralleling the foundation of ethics to that in theistic ontology and epistemology, where we understand God to be the ground of all being and of all rationality, respectively.  (I would even extend this, perhaps more controversially, to the realm of aesthetics, and propose that God is the ground of all beauty.)  Here we see another dimension of the conceptual coherence of theism.

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The Making of Atheists

By Jim Spiegel

My current book project is on the subject of atheism.  Though there have been plenty of books on this topic the last few years, both by atheists (the “new atheists” as they’ve come to be called) and their critics, nearly all of these books address the evidence for or against theism.  Atheist writers complain that because of the existence of evil and the immorality of believers faith in God is unreasonable.  And they argue that the explanatory power of science makes faith unnecessary.  Defenders of theism have given rejoinders to these arguments and offered evidences for God either overlooked or underappreciated by the new atheists.  Some Christian apologists have devoted entire books to critiquing particular works by the new atheists (e.g. The McGraths’ The Dawkins Delusion and Zacharias’ The End of Reason).

But lost in the whirlwind of this debate is the deeper question as to whether atheism is actually the product of rational inquiry.  Richard Dawkins and Daniel Dennett have suggested that theists suffer from a sort of delusion.  Could this be a case of “If you spot it, you got it”?  If anyone is delusional, perhaps it is atheists.  After all, looking at the matter from a statistical standpoint, is it more likely that over 90% of human beings (religious believers) are deluded or that only a small minority (atheists) are so deceived?  To take the former view, along with Dawkins, Dennett, and others, is a serious psychological indictment of the human race.  (And, given this thesis, one wonders why these authors would expect their readers to have a rational response to their books!)  On the other hand, if atheists are the duped ones, what explains this?  Is it simply a misconstrual of the evidence for God?  If so, what could account for that?  Is the problem somehow psychological, sociological, or even moral in nature?

These are some of the questions I am raising (and attempting to answer) in my book, which will be published by Moody Press in 2010.  I would welcome your own thoughts on the matter…whether or not they turn out to be delusional.

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The Love of Wisdom

By Jim Spiegel

The word “philosophy” derives from two Greek words (philo and sophia) which together mean “the love of wisdom.”  For the founder of Western philosophy, Socrates, this meant a selfless pursuit of understanding which would translate into a good moral life.  How ironic, therefore, that the discipline of philosophy today is often viewed as (and often is in practice) anything but a quest to be wise.  Much of academic philosophy today is devoted to technical minutiae and ponderous analysis of issues only remotely related to right living.

A wise person is someone who has practical moral insight.  Moreover, s/he not only knows what courses of action are best but also conducts her/himself accordingly.  In other words, a wise person is not only morally insightful but personally virtuous.

book-cover-love-of-wisdomThis basic but overlooked fact about wisdom served as a guiding principle for my co-author, Steve Cowan, and I as we wrote our new textbook, The Love of Wisdom: A Christian Introduction to Philosophy.  We wanted to show how every major issue in philosophy is relevant to living well.  Moreover, we aimed to demonstrate how philosophical inquiry of all kinds is a boon to one’s relationship with God.  Good philosophy begets stronger faith. 

When Steve and I first hatched the idea of writing this book it became clear that we complemented one another in terms of our philosophical strengths.  So as we divided our labor, our tasks fell out evenly. I wrote the introduction and the chapters on ethics, political philosophy, aesthetics, and philosophy of science, while he wrote the chapters on logic, metaphysics, epistemology, and most of the content in the chapters on human nature and philosophy of religion. 

Given the surge of interest in philosophy among Christians over the past few decades, it is surprising that there aren’t many Christian introductory philosophy texts.  And the few that are available are not very accessible.  We wanted our text to be readable, even entertaining, for the novice.  So we use a lot of illustrations referencing popular culture and current events.  The book also contains an extensive glossary as well as study questions concluding every subsection in each chapter.  These features are aimed at making the book useful for personal study as well as classroom use.

Proverbs 4:7 says “Wisdom is supreme; therefore get wisdom.  Though it cost all you have, get understanding.”  Those are strong words.  Our hope is that this book will be helpful to readers who are serious about this quest.

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The APA Controversy Over Religion and Sexuality

By Jim Spiegel

Some members of the American Philosophical Association (APA) are circulating a petition that aims to censure orthodox Christian colleges and universities.  The authors of the petition are requesting that the APA not allow these institutions to advertise open positions in their publication Jobs for Philosophers. The crux of the issue?  The non-permissive stance of these schools regarding homosexual behavior.  You can read the petition here: http://www.petitiononline.com/cmh3866/petition.html

The implications of this petition are severe, not only for Christian colleges but for orthodox Jewish and Muslim schools as well.  The petition amounts to a frontal attack on the religious liberty of private educational institutions. In response, some Christian philosophers have drawn up a counter-petition, which you can read here:  http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/apa/.  I have already signed this petition and encourage you to consider doing so as well.

Mark Murphy of Georgetown University has drafted a very insightful response to this controversy, which you can see here:  http://www9.georgetown.edu/faculty/murphym/APAStatement-Murphy.htm. Murphy makes several illuminating observations, many regarding the history of the APA nondiscrimination provisions and other points pertaining to the faulty logic of the petition to change the APA’s advertising policy.  Here I will summarize and embellish some of Murphy’s points:

First, the accused Christian colleges do not single out homosexual activity as unacceptable.  Rather, such colleges prohibit all extramarital sexual practice, which also includes adultery, premarital sex, polygamy, pedophilic sex, and bestiality.  The expectation at these Christian colleges is that their employees and students will refrain from all sexual activity that is outside the bounds of Christian marriage.  While some homosexuals might consider the expectation to refrain from extramarital sexual activity to be a burden, it is not a special burden placed on them, since heterosexuals are also expected to refrain from extramarital sex.

Second, note that this is a behavioral prohibition which is consistent with nondiscrimination on the basis of sexual orientation (per the language of the APA nondiscrimination policy).  To be sexually oriented in a certain way, whether heterosexually or homosexually, is to be physically attracted to members of a particular gender.  But to act or not to act on these desires is a matter of choice, just as it is a matter of choice as to whether to have sex at all.  To insist that persons, whether homosexual or heterosexual, are not free to choose whether or with whom to have sex, assumes a form of hard determinism—a view which, to say the least, is highly contentious.  (See my January 26 post about this.)

Third, the moral norm of confining sex to marriage between one man and one woman is inherent to the religious commitment of these Christian colleges.  Moreover, this is the long-standing belief and practice of all major theisms—Judaism, Islam, and Christianity—and many other religions besides.  So to sanction schools for observing this ideal would be blatant religious discrimination—against, in fact, the religious beliefs of the majority people in the world.

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Why Beauty is an Objective Quality in the World

By Jim Spiegel

In my February 12 post I presented an anti-naturalist argument from beauty.  A key premise of this argument is that beauty is an objective quality in the world.  This view is known as aesthetic objectivism.  Before offering some reasons in defense of this view, let me first explain the contrary perspective known as aesthetic relativism.  The aesthetic relativist maintains that aesthetic values, such as “beautiful,” “elegant,” “ugly,” “sublime,” or “poignant,” are entirely relative to the preferences of individuals or cultures.  So, for example, an aesthetic subjectivist would say that all aesthetic judgments are relative to the individual.  Or, as it is popularly expressed, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”  The somewhat less common brand of relativism is aesthetic cultural relativism, which says that all aesthetic judgments are relative to particular cultures.

Notice that both forms of aesthetic relativism deny that there is any objective sense in which beauty or other aesthetic values exist in the world.  So according to relativism, an artwork (such as a poem or a film) or a part of nature (such as a flower, a sunset, or a human face) is not beautiful in itself but is only pleasing to a person or group of people.  Aesthetic judgments (like “this song is lovely” or “that painting is ugly”) do not reveal facts about the world but only reflect observer responses to aspects of the world.

While the claim that all aesthetic judgments are relative to a person or culture has a generous ring about it, a bit of reflection reveals the view to be absurd.  First, consider the implications of aesthetic relativism when it comes to comparing works of art.  My four-year-old daughter, Maggie, loves to draw, and on our refrigerator there are several samples of her recent work, including a crude drawing of three horses.  It is rendered entirely with a pink marker, and the horses have rectangular bodies and triangular heads.  So, we might ask, how does Maggie’s Three Horses composition compare, in terms of aesthetic quality, to, say, Leonardo Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa?  Is one of these works superior (i.e. more objectively beautiful) to the other?  Not according to aesthetic relativism.  Remember, on this view no work of art can be objectively superior to another, because the relativist maintains that beauty is entirely relative to individual or cultural preference.  So if I happen to prefer Maggie’s Three Horses to Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, then the former is superior to the latter for me.  Or if a given culture—because of, say, a prevailing fancy for the color pink—preferred Maggie’s drawing, then Three Horses would be superior for that culture.  In neither case could it be said that the Da Vinci painting is aesthetically superior to Maggie’s drawing in an absolute sense.

Such a relativist view contradicts common sense.  Obviously the Mona Lisa is superior to Maggie’s line drawings, regardless of how fond I might be of my daughter’s efforts.  But the only way this judgment can make sense is if beauty is an objective fact, not merely a matter of individual or cultural preference.  Only an objectivist view can account for the common sense distinction we ordinarily make between personal tastes and real excellence in works of art.  So if we are to maintain (as we should) that the Mona Lisa is better than my daughter’s drawing, we must admit that aesthetic qualities (whether good or bad) are public facts about the world.  In other words, beauty is an objective quality of things. 

A second argument for aesthetic objectivism appeals to the universal, time-tested appreciation of many works of art.  Educated people will agree, as they have for centuries, that Shakespeare’s King Lear is a great play, that Handel’s Messiah is an excellent piece of music, and that Michelangelo’s David is a superb sculpture.  How do we explain this consensus of opinion among intelligent connoisseurs of art, except by acknowledging that the tremendous aesthetic qualities of these works are public facts?  If aesthetic relativism is true, then the convergence of opinion by hosts of art critics is mere coincidence.  There just happen to have been similarly positive responses to these artworks across cultures for hundreds of years.  But, of course, this is absurd.  So aesthetic objectivism must be true.

Third, consider the fact that we often debate the quality of artworks and we sometimes change our opinions about whether a film, book, or song is good or not.  We might find ourselves defending the merit of a novel we have read or saying something like “I was wrong about that film.  I think it is good after all.”  These are everyday occurrences in discussions of art, and they confirm the basic intuition that aesthetic judgments are objective, whether correct or incorrect.  Aesthetic qualities must be public facts and not simply subjective or cultural responses.  Otherwise, we could not meaningfully argue about them or improve our views on works of art.

For such reasons as these, we can safely say that beauty and related aesthetic attributes are not merely in the eye of the beholder or a matter of cultural preference.  They are objectively real facts about the world. 

[My arguments here are adapted from my article “Good Art and Bad Art: What is the Difference?” in Areopagus Journal, 4:1 (January-February 2004).  For an extended defense of aesthetic objectivism, including an elaboration on some of the arguments that I employ here, see Eddy M. Zemach, Real Beauty (University Park, PA: Penn State Press, 1997).]

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An Anti-Naturalist Argument from Beauty

By Jim Spiegel

The history of philosophy has seen many “theistic proofs” or arguments for the existence of God, dating at least as far back as Plato in the 4th century B.C.  Some of the standard arguments reason to God’s existence from apparent design in nature (the teleological argument), human consciousness (the argument from mind), the causal dependence of the cosmos (the cosmological argument), the existence of moral values (the moral argument), and the very concept of God (the ontological argument).

There is another line of reasoning which I believe holds much promise as an argument for theism—the argument from beauty.  While aesthetic evidence for God may be presented in a variety of ways, I prefer to appeal to beauty as an argument against naturalism.  If successful, such an argument serves, ipso facto, to prove the truth of supernaturalism, which in turn provides strong evidence for theism.  Succinctly put, my argument is as follows.  According to naturalism, the entire physical world is fully describable in scientific terms (statements about the physical world).  However, beauty and other aesthetic features cannot be captured in purely scientific terms.  Therefore, it is not the case that the whole of reality can be described scientifically.  So naturalism is false.

Here is a modified version of the argument which makes explicit a crucial assumption about the nature of beauty. 

1. Beauty is an objective quality in the world.

2. Beauty is an evaluative concept—specifically, an aesthetic value.

3. Therefore, there are objective aesthetic values.  [from 1 & 2]

4. If naturalism is true, then there are no objective aesthetic values.

5. Therefore, naturalism is false.  [from 3 & 4]

Propositions 3 and 5 each follow validly from prior premises (1 & 2 and 3 & 4, respectively).  Proposition 2 is a widely accepted observation about the meaning of the term “beauty”—that to describe something as beautiful is to recognize that it has significant aesthetic value.  And proposition 4 follows from the meaning of naturalism, which asserts that the physical world can be completely described in terms of physics (i.e. assertions about physical entities and relationships).  Clearly, beauty (and other aesthetic features, such as “ugly,” “elegant,” “insipid” and “poignant”) cannot be physically analyzed.  Thus, according to naturalism, aesthetic values cannot be a real or objective quality of things.

So, then, what about the crucial first proposition—that beauty is an objective quality of certain things?  What grounds do we have to believe this?  In my next post I will defend this claim, but for now it seems that I have at least shown that the naturalist must reject the first premise—and thus deny the reality of beauty.  That is, if my argument works, the naturalist must accept the implication that neither the world as a whole, nor anything in it, is beautiful (or ugly) in itself—from artworks such as the Mona Lisa to a Shakespearean sonnet to Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos to aspects of nature such as a tiger, butterfly, sunset, or human face.  This is a significant—I would say unacceptable—price to pay for naturalism.  But, again, as I will show later, even this option is not open to the naturalist.

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On a Certain Irony in the Case for Gay Rights

By Jim Spiegel

When it comes to the debate on human sexuality, typically it is traditionalists who are painted as enemies of freedom.  After all, they are the ones who insist that extra-marital sex is wrong and should be discouraged.  However, the central argument used by many gay rights advocates also opposes freedom but in a much more fundamental sense than traditionalism. 

Let me explain.  Consider the popular gay rights slogan “biology is destiny” and the argument which often accompanies this phrase.  The idea is that some people are “born” homosexuals, due either to certain genetic factors or neurological hard-wiring which strongly predispose them to have a sexual attraction to members of the same sex.  For this reason, the argument goes, the traditionalist view that homosexual relations are immoral is wrongheaded, not to mention insensitive.  For how can people be blamed for what they cannot control?  As Immanuel Kant said (paraphrasing Pelagius a millennium before him), “ought implies can.”  If homosexuals cannot choose to be other than what they are, then there is no sense in telling them they ought to act otherwise.

Notice that the “biology is destiny” argument really amounts to the claim that homosexuals cannot help themselves regarding both their sexual preference and their choice as to whether to have sex at all.  The implication (or at least suggestion) in both cases is that their desires are irresistible.  That is, given their biological (and psychological) make-up, they cannot act otherwise than they do.  Now there is a general name for views such as this:  determinism.  Determinists believe that all phenomena, including human behavior and choices, are caused.  Among determinists there is disagreement as to whether we are, nonetheless, free and responsible for our behavior.  Those determinists who affirm the logical compatibility of determinism and freedom are called compatibilists (or, alternatively, soft determinists).  In contrast, those who maintain that determinism rules out human freedom and responsibility are called hard determinists.

So here’s the point.  In using the “biology is destiny” argument, gay rights advocates tacitly endorse hard determinism, at least as far as human sexuality goes.  That is, they deny that human beings are free when it comes to their sexual choices and behavior.  More than this, they deny we are morally responsible in these matters.  Ironically, then, proponents of the biological argument are enemies of human freedom and in a much more profound sense than their traditionalist opponents.  They deny freedom both morally (in the sense of responsibility) and metaphysically (in the sense of the ability to choose). 

Of course, not all gay rights advocates believe, strictly speaking, that “biology is destiny,” that there is a “gay gene” or some other entirely biological determinant of homosexual orientation.  But even the skeptical gay rights folks almost always accept some sort of determinism in the matter, whether it is psychological, social, or some combination of factors including biology.  How ironic it is that traditionalists are routinely criticized for being anti-freedom when it is gay rights advocates who implicitly deny freedom in a much more radical way.