A Look at Morality and Psychology, or: Kant and Common Sense (Column 762)

With God’s help

A few weeks ago I happened to read this post from Yair Ben David’s blog, A Good Measure (perhaps I’ll sue him for copyright). It deals with the question whether there is a moral problem in submitting an academic paper written entirely and completely by our teacher ChatGPT.

The Psychology of Morality

Ben David is described there as someone engaged in the psychology of morality, and I must begin by saying that this field has always bothered me. Psychology is a descriptive field, since it deals with facts about human behavior and feelings. Morality, by contrast, deals with norms. If psychology deals with what is (the is), morality deals with what ought to be (the ought). David Hume already taught us that there is an unbridgeable gap between the two, since facts alone cannot determine what is proper and what is not. This means that discussion of facts, physical or psychological, determines nothing whatsoever regarding discussion of norms.

And yet, in my experience, quite a few texts in this field that I have read tend to mix these planes together. They do not distinguish well enough between what human beings actually do and what ought to be done. True, this is not necessarily a fallacy. First, one must distinguish between ordinary human behavior, which plainly belongs to the realm of what is and therefore is no measure of what ought to be, and the way people conduct themselves when they come to make a moral decision. When I understand how people make moral decisions, that may perhaps serve as a measure with respect to the question of how such decisions should be made. Again, it does not determine the correct decision, but it can serve as an indication of it. But even on this plane, the connection to what ought to be is not necessary. A person may perhaps think that the way human beings conduct themselves when making a moral decision is a measure of what ought to be done (even if it certainly does not determine it), but that is very far from necessary or agreed upon.

Take, for example, the trolley problem, which has already come up here more than once (see, for example, columns 555, 628 and others). A moral dilemma is posed there regarding killing one person in order to save the lives of several others. Some discuss it on the philosophical plane, that is, the question of what ought to be done. Others discuss it on the psychological plane (how people tend to think and act about it), which as noted belongs to the realm of what is. Quite a few discussions mix these two planes, which expresses the fact that some people feel that psychological research (which shows us what human beings generally prefer in such a situation) also gives an answer to the question of what the proper act is in this situation.

It seems to me that the basis of this confusion is that claims about norms are a strange matter. On the one hand, they seem to us not to be completely subjective, since morality obligates all of us (see the spinach test in column 456), and on the other hand, we have no way to confirm the truth of a normative claim against reality, as we do with factual claims. For this reason, many tend to see morality as part of our psychology, that is, as something built into the human soul but without an objective basis and validity. But according to this conception, morality is not a collection of binding norms but an inbuilt part of human nature, and therefore it has no binding force. Some delude themselves into thinking that it can even be given force under such a view, but that is a mistake (this is not a moral approach, since morality is conceived here as a branch of psychology, an evolutionary product, and the like. We are conditioned from birth toward moral behavior and thought). What matters for our purposes here is that within such a framework, there is clearly no room for the distinction between the two planes I described (what is and what ought to be).

If one sees morality as binding, regardless of the question of the source of our moral feelings, that means that moral norms have objective binding validity. As stated, they bind not by virtue of agreement among human beings or by virtue of their nature, but because a moral obligation exists and we are all subject to it (in my view it must be grounded in the divine will. See column 456 and elsewhere). If that is the case, then there is a clear distinction between these two planes, the psychological and the moral. Psychology deals with facts and morality with norms.

I preface with this distinction because in several places in Yair Ben David’s post one can see that he is not always aware of it.

Critical Reading: Does the Norm Determine What Ought to Be?

Ben David’s discussion is based on the fact that today reliance on artificial intelligence is already an accepted norm, and if everyone does it, why shouldn’t I?! It is important to note that the term 'norm' here is being used to describe prevalent and accepted behavior, and not in the sense of a binding moral/normative principle. That use of the term already points to a conception that identifies these two senses (contrary to what I wrote above). The question that arises here is whether, when we speak about morality, there is room to take accepted custom into account (= the norm, in the above sense). Let me sharpen the point: the formulation is not precise. The intention is not specifically the majority, but a custom that is sufficiently widespread. The claim is that if there is a practice accepted in a broad and mainstream group in society (even if it is not a majority), then it is by definition moral.

Ben David writes that it is fairly clear that there are accepted norms that are not proper (such as pushing in line, or shouting at service providers). But factually, as I understand it, most such norms are not really accepted. True, there are people who do these things, but this is certainly not a norm in the sense of something accepted in society (even according to the broader definition above, namely a prevalent practice, and not necessarily a practice of most of society). After all, it is clear to everyone that these are ugly acts, except that some fail and nonetheless act this way. Even the person himself, at least after he has cooled down and come to his senses, will tell you that he failed and did not act properly. All the more so if you ask people, they will tell you that society as a society sees these as wrongful acts, despite the fact that there are quite a few people who fail and act this way. Such an act is perceived as a failure, and therefore doing it should not be seen as an expression of a moral position. Therefore, even on the factual plane I do not think there are norms (that is, accepted actions) that are not proper. One claim is that there are actions that are commonly done and yet are not proper. That is simple and obvious. But the claim that there are actions commonly regarded as moral actions and yet they are not such is a different claim, and with regard to that the situation is more complex. That is worth discussing.

Another example he brings concerns moral norms that become entrenched in society with respect to certain groups or to other societies. For example, with the outbreak of the last war, the expression "There are no innocents in Gaza" became a norm among very large parts of the people. Does that make its use moral? Ben David wonders whether the fact that "everyone talks like this" makes such speech more moral. But as I understand it, here too he is missing something. It is important to distinguish between what people do and what they think. Those who say that there are no innocents in Gaza truly think so. Ben David himself probably thinks otherwise. So he is in the minority. That has no necessary connection to the question of the status of the norm. It is important to understand that this case is not similar to pushing in line, because there usually even the one who pushes understands (even if only after the fact) that this is not okay. Therefore, the important question, if any, is what the majority thinks and not what the majority does. With respect to the residents of Gaza, we are dealing with a thought different from yours; by contrast, in pushing in line we are dealing with an act different from yours.

Beyond everything else, even if one accepts the claim that the accepted norm in society determines what ought to be done, this is not necessarily related to conformity. I do not know anyone who thinks that it is impossible to hold a moral position contrary to the view of the majority. The claim that if an act is accepted it thereby becomes moral does not mean that a person cannot hold a different moral position. Does anyone think that on moral questions one is forbidden to be in the minority? That is highly unlikely.

The question that should be discussed is the case in which I hold a moral position contrary to the majority view, meaning that in my eyes what I am doing is not a failure but proper conduct. In such a case, should one infer from this that it is a moral position or action? This can be asked both about society in general and specifically about me. It is very implausible that in moral issues one is forbidden to hold a minority position. On the other hand, if I act against the majority’s view, I am in effect doing something that in their opinion is not moral. Does that not mean that I should be judged an immoral person? This leads us to the distinction between judging the act and judging the doer.

Critical Reading: The Role of the Norm in Moral Judgment

As I explained above, facts, that is, what is, do not determine what ought to be. The fact that people do something, and even the fact that they think it is proper, does not mean that it is a proper act. That is not only because the majority does not decide, nor only because a prevalent norm is not necessarily moral, but chiefly because there is a difference between facts and norms. What people do or think is a fact. What ought to be done is a norm (in the sense of a binding principle). Suppose Reuven thinks that pushing in line is a morally positive act; he is entitled to hold a minority position. Therefore, if he himself does it, that will be consistent with his own view. But the fact that he does or thinks this does not constitute a justification for me to do it as well. From my perspective, the fact that he thinks or does this is a fact. It does not determine what, from my point of view, ought to be done or thought. Let me note again that if one identifies the psychology of morality (what people think and do) with the normative question (what ought to be done), then what people think or do is what determines morality, and then of course the discussion does not arise.

Now I return to the question of judgment. Can the fact that this is a widespread practice nevertheless make a difference to my judgment of the person who does it? Again, one can discuss here the meaning of the term 'widespread' in two contexts: whether what is widespread is thinking that it is moral, or whether what is widespread is failing in this way. In my opinion, a widespread practice carries no weight in either of these situations (widespread to think, or widespread to do) when we come to determine the morality of the act. But there is room to take both of these situations into account when we come to judge the doer.

Between the Act and the Doer

In column 372 I argued that there are two different planes of moral judgment: 1. Judgment of the act—which should be made according to the judge’s own view. 2. Judgment of the person—which should be made only according to the view of the one being judged. If I think that act X is morally negative, then anyone who does it has committed a moral transgression. This is, of course, tautological, and it concerns judgment of the act. My claim there was that this does not necessarily mean that I will see the person himself as wicked. When I come to judge the person for his deed (and not the act itself, which is of course wicked in my view), there may be two kinds of change relative to the judgment of the act:

• Consideration of various mitigating circumstances. The environment in which he grew up or acted, his education, his mental state, whether there were provocations that preceded his action and caused it, and the like. All these are arguments regarding punishment; that is, he is indeed an offender, but there are circumstances that will lead us to mitigate his punishment or the degree of wickedness we attribute to him.
• Beyond circumstances, there are the offender’s views. A person who thinks that act X is morally positive—this is not a mitigating circumstance but complete exoneration. Such a person who did X is righteous even according to one who thinks that X is a wrongful act (see there for qualifications, such as the degree of seriousness with which he examined his position, etc.).

Notice that when we come to judge the doer, it is indeed important to understand what norms prevailed in his environment. That is true from both aspects that arose here: the accepted norms around him are mitigating circumstances even if he himself did not think so. And if he himself also thinks so, then he deserves complete exoneration.

Ben David brings several examples that can illustrate the point. For example:

A good example of this is the consideration we give to period-specific moral judgment. Aristotle, one of the greatest philosophers of ancient Greece, dealt extensively with ethics. Against that background, some mention his statements toward and about women, statements that by today’s standards are considered plainly chauvinistic. Yet those remarks did not lead to his erasure from the canon or to his being canceled. Most of us would probably agree to grant him allowances of the type "that was the norm then," "he was not the only one," and "one must understand the context in which he lived."

As for me, I do not erase anyone from the canon because of his views or his morality. What should determine inclusion in the canon is only his arguments. But it is true that his attitude toward women should be judged against the background of the accepted norms in his time. That certainly does not turn those statements into something positive (that is judgment of the act), but when I come to form an attitude toward Aristotle the person, this certainly constitutes mitigating circumstances; moreover, if Aristotle himself thought this way (even if mistakenly, in my opinion), then he should not be blamed at all in this matter.

On the face of it, he understood well the role of accepted norms. But you will immediately see that not at all.

A Philosophical Dispute (?)

In the next passage, Ben David challenges these insights and writes:

But do we really deserve lenient treatment just because "that was the norm"? One of the central thinkers who dealt with this topic was the German philosopher Immanuel Kant, who held that the social norm is not a source of moral authority. Kant rejected almost completely the idea that morality derives, either at all or mainly, from what most people do or accept. He believed that morality is not a matter of habits or conventions, but of duty arising from pure and universal reason.

For Kant, the test of morality is not "what is accepted in our society" but "what one can will to be binding on everyone." This is precisely the heart of his categorical imperative: a principle of action that a person endorses by means of his reason and wants to receive the force of universal law. When a social convention dictates moral behavior, the person is not acting out of rational duty, but out of obedience to an external source.

Here there is a glaring confusion between judging the act and judging the person. Kant was not dealing with these questions at all. Kant’s argument concerns judgment of the act (what the proper act is), but not necessarily judgment of the person. And even if Kant himself thought so (I do not know), it really makes no difference. His ethical doctrine and the content of his categorical imperative do not concern judgment of the doer but of the act.

And if you had any doubt about Ben David, you can see how he interprets a philosophical dispute (which is no dispute at all):

Later philosophers proposed a more complex approach to the connection between social norms and morality. One of them is the British philosopher Bernard Williams. Williams agrees that morality cannot be derived solely from the social norm, but he thinks Kant errs when he ignores the fact that one cannot completely detach the human being from social and cultural context.

Williams argues that human beings do not live in a world of "pure reason." In his view, we draw our language, our conceptual world, our moral imagery – and also our moral feelings – from the social tradition in which we grew up. In other words, even if morality does not collapse into norms, it is always born and shaped within a particular social world.

According to Williams, most people do not use a universal and abstract moral model before they decide what ought to be done. I assume most of us identify with this. We ask ourselves questions that are much closer to the ground of reality: What is expected of me? What is accepted? What will people think of me if I do something else? What does this say about me as a person? For Williams this is not a moral mistake, but a moral understanding that follows from our being human beings who live within a social world. Our moral understanding is always anchored in contexts, expectations, and cultural meanings.

Williams warns that accepted norms are not always good or morally sufficient. As we feel on our own flesh, they can be blind, oppressive, and even violent. But even if we cannot detach ourselves from the norm and make decisions by means of "pure reason," we can use a moral tool that one might call "critical reflection." "Critical reflection" is the ability to take a step back and ask questions about the norms around us. Such reflection does not detach us from context, but it allows us to see the self-evident anew.

Here too you can see the root of his misunderstanding. Without noticing it, he moves from the Kantian discussion, which deals with the proper act in itself and reaches it through a priori philosophical considerations, to a psychological description that deals with the question of what most people do when they make moral decisions. As we have seen, these are different and independent planes.

Back to Writing Papers by Means of Chat

Ben David applies the philosophical 'dispute' he described to writing papers by means of chat:

If we return to the small and everyday issue of writing papers with Chat GPT: whereas Kant would categorically reject reliance on AI that runs contrary to the commitment to act otherwise, Williams would probably examine the context through critical reflection. Assuming that pupils and students are submitting masses of papers with the help of GPT, Williams would not be interested only in the question whether they are moral. He would seek to understand what system led to the creation of such a norm.

Quite the contrary. Both of them could agree that the act as such is wrongful, and both of them could agree that there are mitigating circumstances for the one who does it. Moreover, if the student himself thought that it was permitted, then these are not merely mitigating circumstances but complete exoneration.

Interim Summary

All this discussion is a very deep confusion between what ought to be and what is. Ben David returns again and again to the claim that the evaluation of an act is a combination of accepted norms and some objective consideration, but nowhere does he give a criterion for how we are supposed to perform this combination. He also does not explain why one should take the norms or the objective consideration into account, where, and to what extent. It seems as though he senses something and cannot formulate it. He expresses himself in a completely self-contradictory way, and does so with Olympian calm. I assume that the distinction between judging the act and judging the doer is the resolution he too intends, had he formulated it for himself.

In my view, the root of this confusion is the common and very typical identification between morality and psychology that I discussed above. If morality is nothing but a description of our way of making decisions, that is, a branch of psychology, then indeed there is no room for a distinction between the planes. The description of what people do when they make moral decisions simply is morality. Many thinkers who confront moral claims and understand that these are not simple factual claims find themselves treating them as something subjective-psychological. True, this does not fit their view regarding the validity of morality and its objectivity, but they continue to get entangled because they do not get to the root of the distinction between the act and the doer.

Final Note: Is the Act Really Wrongful?

In conclusion, it is hard to avoid discussing the act itself. His discussion tacitly assumes that although this is an accepted norm, it is still self-evident that the act as such is wrongful. Is that really the case? Let us assume for the sake of discussion that the ordinary student really does write his papers this way. As a person of integrity, must I continue to invest time in writing papers and perhaps also receive a lower grade, just in order to preserve my integrity? In what sense is this integrity at all? Who is harmed by what I did? Is it not more correct to compete on the field in which I actually find myself, rather than imagine a hypothetical purist field that does not exist in reality?

Admittedly, if my abilities really do not develop as they should when I do not write the papers myself, that could harm my future employers and consumers, who rely on my professional abilities. But that is true with regard to all the other graduates as well, so what difference does it really make if I too will be like them? Note that if I insist on integrity and refuse to be like them, I myself will suffer. I will invest enormous time, receive lower grades, and also not be accepted to the jobs I want (I will lose them to my friends who used chat and received better grades than mine).

And after all, Kant’s categorical imperative is relevant here. According to it, I am supposed to do my actions in a way that I would want to become a general law (see about it in the article here, in column 122 and elsewhere). Would I want everyone to do this? I assume we would all agree that not, at least not as long as chat does not replace us in work and in providing services as well. For the time being, the market still needs skilled and knowledgeable people. I emphasized in the above sources that the categorical imperative does not say what people think it says; that is, it is not a consequentialist imperative (what matters is what would happen if everyone did as you do). The consequentialist consideration does not really exist here, since my consideration does not affect the other students. They make their decisions as they make them (whether in favor of chat or against it), and my own decision will not raise or lower anything for them. From a consequentialist standpoint, it is utterly negligible. And yet, according to Kant, the categorical imperative tells us that we must not take this into account. We are supposed to make our moral decisions according to the hypothetical question of what would happen if everyone did as I do—would that be a better world or a worse one? If it would be a world I do not want, then I must not do it. From this it follows that integrity is an absolute value that does not depend on circumstances and results (though see in the above-mentioned column the consequentialist loop that I presented there on the basis of the prisoner’s dilemma). Seemingly, the conclusion is that one should not use chat even if the prevalent norm among students is indeed to do so.

Continuation: On Morality, the Categorical Imperative, and Common Sense

But something here seems problematic, and perhaps even detached from common sense. What is the point of continuing to be the last honest idiot in a world where everyone else has moved on? This is a rather good situation in which to discern the limitations of Kantian thinking.

Indeed, integrity is an absolute value, and this does not depend on norms. But this is only a hypothetical and theoretical assertion. I will remind you that Kant himself wrote that according to his view it is forbidden to lie even in a situation of mortal danger (to me or to others), since the categorical imperative says that I would not want lying to become a widespread norm. But this is an absurdity that can come only from the mouths of armchair theorists. After all, the value of life is also an important value, and it may override the value of integrity. That is, the fact that we arrived at the conclusion that integrity is an absolute value is correct, and yet that still does not mean that it always prevails over what stands opposite it. There may be other values that conflict with it, and in those conflicts we must make decisions. This somewhat resembles the discussion of pacifism that took place in column 761. There too the absolute value of the prohibition of murder leads to conclusions that are absurd from the standpoint of common sense.

Some have formulated this in an internally Kantian way (after all, those pompous Yekkes do not understand any other language): I would want the general law that forbids lying also to recognize that if someone is in mortal danger, he is permitted to lie. After all, I also would not want there to be a general law that a person who does not lie should be murdered. The categorical imperative is supposed to lead us to a world in which human life is preserved. In another formulation, one can put it this way: the general law is that one may not lie unless you are in mortal danger.

Admittedly, such a qualification seems at first glance almost to empty the categorical imperative of content, for I can always present the situation I am in as an exception that is part of the general law, and thus violate it. Well, what can one do?! Life is complicated. There is such a thing as common sense, and even the application of the categorical imperative in exceptional situations must be bound up with a bit of common sense. There are exceptions that are formalistic hair-splitting, and there are exceptions that contain common sense. True, in this Kant’s Yekkish aspiration to arrive at a moral computer that would provide an absolute universal answer, not subject to disputes, to every question in every situation, has been disappointed; yet that certainly does not mean that his work was in vain. In my view, the categorical imperative is a very important principle with many applications (you can search here on the site for quite a few of them), but it is not a sweeping mathematical rule. It requires the refinement and development of common sense and moral intuition, especially when it stands in conflict with other moral principles (such as human life).

True, the case of writing papers with chat is not so extreme. We are not dealing with human life but with investing more time and effort and perhaps receiving a slightly lower grade. Even so, I think there is room for considerations of common sense. I can regret that this is the situation and nevertheless not be Don Quixote charging on Rocinante in order to fight indiscriminately against these wicked windmills. It is not worth fighting windmills, and in general it is not worth investing efforts in actions that yield no results, certainly not in those that yield negative results.