Moral judgments and the emotions

Here are some crazy ideas I’ve been having.

So I’m taking a class on moral psychology and we’ve been reading papers that, in their own unique ways, address the relationship between the emotions and moral judgment-making (see, for instance, this one and this one).

The running theme (if it can be called that) is that our moral intuitions are at least often (some might say always) inspired by our emotions. And this is taken by many to be grounds for doubting whether or not those intuitions are trustworthy, in the sense that they actually are responding to moral facts out there in the world.

But nobody (so far, that is) has considered the thought that there might actually be a reason that we have the sorts of moral emotions we have, one that speaks in favor of their being trustworthy. (And here’s the part where I say something that might sound really crazy . . . ) For instance, why not suppose that moral emotions track moral truths?

First, it seems rather intuitive to me to say something like, “I get emotionally uneasy upon hearing that so-and-so has been abused because abuse is wrong,” or, “I am delighted when I read about Mother Theresa because she was such a good person.” Generally speaking, I feel good when I know I’ve done something good and I feel bad when I know I’ve done something bad. Now, someone might suggest that these emotions are really just evidence that my genes have tricked me into thinking that some things really are good while others really are bad, i.e., in order to get me to act in certain ways (here I’m thinking specifically of a paper written by Michael Ruse and E. O Wilson). And that’s fine. My point is only that there may also be some sort of truth-tracking story that the realist could tell about the moral emotions.

And second, it seems as if there’s a kind of normativity that we all think applies to the emotions, which is strange when I think about it. For instance, if I found out one day that my good friend was positively delighted at the sight of suffering children, my response would be something like, “What the hell is wrong with you?” Those who have been diagnosed with anti-social personality disorder lead much different emotional lives than the rest of us, . . . and this, we say, is characteristic of a disorder. Regardless of whether or not I do have certain moral emotions, it may still be the case that I ought to (or ought not to, in the case of my sadistic friend) have those emotions.

How can we account for this normativity? Well, I think there are (at least) two ways. One is to just claim that our biology has tricked us into believing in it as well. There really are no moral truths, but in order to get us to survive, our genes have had to convince us that there are; and one of the best ways for our genes to do such a thing is to (a) give us all sorts of (misleadingly) truth-indicative moral emotions and (b) make us think that other people ought to share those emotions.

But, of course, the realist isn’t going to find any of that compelling. So how might a moral realist account for the sort of normativity that we think applies even to the moral emotions? It just sounds so weird to say that people ought to have certain emotions, and ought not have certain other emotions. It sounds a bit like holding someone responsible for the sorts of dreams they have.

(And here’s the part where I say the other crazy-sounding thing . . . )

What about a proper function account of moral agency? Properly-functioning moral agents have reliably truth-tracking moral emotions. Improperly-functioning moral agents do not (e.g., those suffering from anti-social personality disorder).

There are probably all sorts of problems with this idea, but this is as far as my thoughts have gotten me so far. If anyone has actually taken the time to read this craziness and would like to offer some constructive thoughts, please feel free to leave comments. I’m sure there’ll be follow-up posts, . . . since this is looking more and more like a potential paper.