A right to believe?

You are entitled to believe what you will, but your beliefs must be subject to criticism and scrutiny just like mine.

Mark Rowlands is professor of philosophy at theUniversity of Miami. His latest book isRunning with the Pack(Granta).

Here is a true story. A young philosophy lecturer — let us call him Shane — is charged withthe task of introducing young minds to the wonders of philosophy. His course, astandard Introduction to Philosophy, contains a section on the philosophy ofreligion: the usual arguments-for-and-against-the-existence-of-God stuff. Oneof Shane’s students complains to Shane’s Dean that his cherished religiousbeliefs are being attacked. ‘I have a right to my beliefs,’ the student claims.Shane’s repeated interrogations of those beliefs amounts to an attack on thisright to believe. Shane’s institution is not a particularly enlightened one.The Dean concurs with the student, and instructs Shane to desist in teachingphilosophy of religion.

But what exactlydoes it mean to claim ‘a right to my beliefs’? It often comes up in a religiouscontext, but can arise in others too. Shane could just as easily be teachingMarxist theory to a laissez-faire capitalist student, or imparting evidence forglobal warming to a global warming sceptic. Whatever the context, the claim ofa right to one’s beliefs is a curious one. We might distinguish two differentinterpretations of this claim. First, there is theevidentialone.You have an evidential right to your belief if you can provide appropriateevidence in support of it. I have, in this sense, no right to believe that themoon is made of green cheese because my belief is lacking in any supportingevidence.

This sort of rightcan’t be what Shane’s student is asserting. After all, the arguments Shane wasasking his students to explore were, precisely, evidence for and against theexistence of God. When the student complained, he did so to preclude thisgathering and examination of evidence. He regarded the very examination of thisevidence as an attack on his right to believe — and so can hardly be talkingabout his evidential right to believe.

Instead, thestudent’s assertion seems to be what we might call amoralrightto believe. The student is asserting that he has a moral right to believe whathe will, even if there is not sufficient evidence to establish that belief —indeed, even if the preponderance of the available evidence suggests the beliefis false. This moral right to believe is a truly curious beast.

We can have moralrights to different sorts of things — most obviously, to commodities (food,shelter), freedoms (of thought, expression, pursuit of happiness) andtreatments (non-discrimination). But what exactly, does it mean to have a moralright to any of these things? While many people claim not to understand thenotion of a right, the idea is really very simple. The basic idea — courtesy ofthe late American philosopher Joel Feinberg — is that a moral right is a ‘validclaim’. To have a moral right to a certain commodity, freedom or treatment, isto have a valid claimto it, andagainstanyattempt to block your access to it. If you have a moral right to, say, aneducation, then you have a valid claim to that education, and a valid claimagainst others that they do not prevent you receiving it. A claim isvalidifit is implied by a true moral theory — or, if you don’t believe in that sort ofthing, a moral theory that is better than its competitors. You don’t need tomake, or even be able to make, the claim in question: someone else can do thatfor you. A child would have a right to an education even though it cannotunderstand this right and so not be able to claim it.

You have the rightto be completely uninterested in views that you find stupid or abhorrent

Applying thisanalysis, we can infer that if you have a moral right to a belief then everyoneelse has a duty not to deprive you of this belief. A good way of depriving aperson of a belief is by effectively criticising that belief: showing, forexample, that it’s illogical or lacking in evidential support. Some peopleconclude that, if you have a moral right to a belief, everyone else has a dutynot to criticise that belief.

I suspect this isan increasingly common way of thinking about the right to believe. It is,however, untenable. Freedom of expression is among its more notable casualties.Suppose you have the moral right to a certain belief. It doesn’t matter whatthat belief is: suppose it’s the belief that God created the universe. I,similarly, have the moral right to another belief, the belief that the universehas a purely natural origin. My belief — assuming we think of God assupernatural — entails that your belief is false. So, whenever I advance orargue for my belief, and defend it in public, I am simultaneously arguing thatyour belief is false and should be rejected. To advance my belief is tocriticise yours, and vice versa. A moral injunction against criticising thebeliefs of others quickly turns into a moral injunction against advancing yourown beliefs for the simple reason that beliefs are often incompatible. Therecan, of course, be circumstances in which expression of belief can belegitimately suppressed (eg, ‘I believe we should lynch him,’ when said to alynch mob), but adoption of such suppression as a general consequence of themoral right to believe leads to a near-universal ban on freedom of expression.

Even worse, manythink that a moral right entails a duty of protection. If you have a right tosomething, then I should not only refrain from blocking your access to it but Ialso have a duty to help you, should others try to do so. In the case of themoral right to believe, it seems I would have a duty to attack my own belief inorder to safeguard your right to your belief. Similarly, you would have a dutyto attack your belief in order to safeguard my right to my belief. The idea isclearly incoherent. It is fairly obvious what society we would become if weunderstand the right to believe as the duty to refrain from criticism: a groupof largely uncommunicative individuals, unable to advance their own beliefs forfear of criticising the beliefs of others. It might be that this is a possiblefuture for liberal societies. It is not, however, one to which we shouldaspire.

From Shane’sstory, we now switch to that of Wayne. Unlike Shane, Wayne is a fictionalcharacter, bearing no resemblance to anyoneperson. Wayne hasa problem. He has a tendency to espouse views that are both monumentally stupidand often deeply offensive. Nor is he shy in letting everyone know what theseviews are. Most people cross the street to avoid him, and so he has distinctdifficulties in garnering an audience for his views. Does this mean that Waynehas any cause for complaint? Wayne suspects he does. His right to free speech,he claims, is being undermined by other people’s utter lack of interest in whathe has to say. If Wayne thinks this, he seems to be using a certaininterpretation of the right to believe — that he has a moral right to hisbeliefs in the sense that other people have a duty to listen to, or beinterested in, his beliefs.

I have met peoplewho think this. But it is highly implausible. ‘Shut up, I’m watching TV!’ mightbe rude, but I doubt it is a violation of someone’s right to believe.‘Discrimination’ is a bad word these days, but on the other hand, in siftingthrough the possible beliefs we might hold, should we not be discriminating? Inthis imagined scenario, we are not dealing with a case of discriminationagainst Wayne — the person. It is not as if people say: ‘Oh, there’s Wayne. I’mnot going to listen to what he says. He’s one ofthem’ — whatever‘them’, in this case, denotes. Rather, the discrimination in question isdirected at Wayne’s beliefs: ‘Oh, there’s Wayne. If I have to listen to anotherof his stupid beliefs again, I might just explode.’

The truth is thatwe are allcreedists. Creedism is discrimination against beliefs.Creedism sounds a little like racism or sexism, and so people might assume it’sa bad thing. But it’s nothing like these things, and not a bad thing at all.According to racism and sexism, the properties that make a person worthy ofcertain commodities, freedoms or treatments reliably track certain biologicalproperties — possession of a certain skin colour, or possession of a penis,etc. These views should be rejected on the grounds that they are straightforwardlyfalse.

Consider the caseof Jayne, who believes that the universe was created by a flying spaghettimonster: ‘Pastafari, praise his noodly appendage’

Creedism isdifferent. I doubt I would associate with Wayne, if he existed. Similarly, ifyour next-door neighbour is an enthusiastic supporter of Hitler’s policiesvis-à-vis other races you might decide not to invite him to your dinner party.In this, you would be doing nothing wrong. Still less do you have the duty ofproviding him with a forum for his beliefs. Creedism concerns one right inparticular — and the right is yours not theirs: the right to associate and notassociate with whom you choose. There are two vital qualifications required,however. First, your discrimination against your neighbour must be directed notat who they are but what they believe. If you cannot legitimately decline toassociate with someone because of who or what he is, you can certainly do sobecause of what he believes. If you have this right, then exercising it cannotbe a violation of your neighbour’s rights. Second, there is no question ofdepriving your neighbour of his moral and political rights in general. Hisright to vote is not taken away just because he believes stupid things(although it might be if he acts on them). Nor will the right to promote hisbeliefs be taken from him. The right exercised is your right to freeassociation and nothing more than that. You have the right to be completelyuninterested in views that you find stupid or abhorrent. Having the right to abelief cannot be explained in terms of other people having a duty to beinterested in your belief. There is no such duty.

The idea of amoral right to believe came to prominence in the second half of the 19thcentury, in the form of a dispute between the American philosopher andpsychologist William James and the English mathematician and philosopher W KClifford. James thought that, under certain conditions, you have a moral rightto believe, in the absence of supporting evidence. If the belief concerns anoption that isliving(in the sense that it has genuineappeal),forced(in the sense that there are only two possibleoutcomes, one good the other bad) andmomentous(in that thestakes involved are very high), then I have a moral right to believe. For thesereasons, I might have a moral right to believe in life after death, forexample.

Clifford, on theother hand, denied this. Your right to believe extends only as far as thesupporting evidence you have for your beliefs: the moral right to believecollapses into an evidential right to believe. It might seem that I’ve beensiding with Clifford. In fact, I think we can make sense of the idea of a moralright to believe. However, this sense is unlikely to be of comfort to Wayne orShane’s Dean.

Part of Clifford’scase was based on the inseparability of belief and action. If you have stupidbeliefs, then generally you will do stupid things. However, thinking of it inthis way blurs our target. For now, it is not clear whether we are dealing withthe moral right to believe or the moral right to act on our beliefs. Let’sconsider the case of Jayne, who believes that the universe was created by aflying spaghetti monster: ‘Pastafari, praise his noodly appendage.’ Let ussuppose that this belief, while strange, is otherwise harmless. Jayne is not,for example trying to force public schools in Kansas to teach the Pastafariantheory of creation. She has no interest in converting others. She keeps herbelief in Pastafari very much to herself. She won’t lie about it, but neitherdoes she broadcast it.

Suppose Jayne’sfamily, who are aware of and increasingly perturbed by her belief, stage anintervention, and have her forcibly lobotomised. This is a violation of Jayne’sright toautonomy. Therefore, one sense in which Jayne has theright to her belief that Pastafari created the world is that she has the rightnot to be disabused of this belief by way of an un-chosen lobotomy. Of course,a lobotomy is a notoriously blunt instrument, and will have dire consequencesfor Jayne’s general level of cognitive functioning. But we can imagine moresubtle options: hypnosis, brainwashing, or highly skilled and keenly targetedbrain surgery that leaves her cognitive functioning intact. Nevertheless, whenother people manipulate Jayne’s brain in this way — even if they think they aredoing it for her benefit — her right to autonomy has been contravened. A way ofunderstanding the moral right to a belief, therefore, is as a special instanceof a more general right to autonomy: Jayne has a moral right to believe whatshe wants and the basis of this right is autonomy.

The morality ofdisabusing people of their beliefs — and, in particular, whether this violatestheir autonomy — concerns notwhatyou do, but thewaythatyou do it. The late American philosopher Wilfrid Sellars drew a usefuldistinction between what he called the ‘space of reasons’ and the ‘space ofcauses’. When we try to convince Jayne to abandon her belief by appealing tothings such as logic, argument and evidence, we operate within the space ofreasons. We might point out facts pertaining to the fossil record, the BurgessShale, or the Darwinian account of evolution. Such an approach might not besuccessful (Jayne might think that the Burgess Shale is Pastafari’s way oftesting her). However, there is surely nothing morally objectionable to it —particularly if we abide by the rules of good manners and common decency.

Lobotomies,hypnosis and brainwashing all fall outside the space of reasons — belonging,instead, to the space of causes. When we operate within the space of reasons,we are basically saying to Jayne: ‘These are my reasons for not believing inPastafari, and this is why I think they should be your reasons too.’ But thechanges that happen to Jayne when we invade her brain are precisely things thathappen to her rather than things she does herself. Changing Jayne’s belief inthis way is a violation of her autonomy. The difference is like being persuadedto go for a run for health reasons and being tied behind a car and forced torun — essentially the difference between rational persuasion and force.

Murdering orbrainwashing unbelievers is not part of Jayne’s moral right to defend herbelief

Part of theexplanation of Jayne’s moral right to believe is that no one has the right totake away her belief using methods that lie outside the space of reasons. Shehas a moral right to believe in the sense that she has the right not to bestripped of her beliefs by force. This corresponds to one component of Feinberg’sanalysis of a moral right. Jayne has a moral right to believe in the sense thatshe has a valid claimagainstothers not to strip her of her beliefs byforce.

Feinberg’sanalysis also contains the idea of a claimtoas well as oneagainst. This can be incorporated into Jayne’s right to believe. She has avalid claimtoher belief that Pastafari created the world inthe sense that she can defend it, if she so chooses, in the public arena.However, she is restricted to using methods that belong to the space of reasons— persuasion rather than force. Murdering or brainwashing unbelievers is notpart of Jayne’s moral right to defend her belief. She is entitled to advanceher belief in the public arena using the same methods that her opponents are entitledto use in dissuading her of that belief.

This, then, is howto understand the moral right to believe. Other people have a duty not todeprive you of your beliefs using methods that fall outside the space ofreasons. Other people can use persuasion but they have a duty not to use force.You have the right to defend your belief, in the public arena, using methodsthat belong to the space of reasons — you can defend your belief throughrational persuasion but not force. The idea of a moral right to believe is theconjunction of these two claims.

There will be, ofcourse, unresolved practical issues. Sometimes, the dividing line betweenrational persuasion and force is not entirely clear. No doubt many of ussuffered, between the ages of five and 18 — and perhaps later — at the hands ofthe ‘That’s the way it is and you’d better accept it if you want to get a job’brand of education. However, while rational persuasion and force might slide bydegrees into each other, the absence of a firm distinction is not the absenceof a distinction. If it were, the existence of people of average height wouldentail that no one is short and no one is tall. Here I am concerned with thepoint of principle and not practice.

What the Deanshould have said to the student of Shane is: ‘Yes, you have a moral right toyour belief. You have the moral right not to have this belief taken from you byforce, and you have the moral right to defend your belief using methods ofrational persuasion. But that is all — philosophy of religion stays on thesyllabus.’ To Wayne, we should say: ‘You have the right to your beliefs in thesame way that Shane does — but you have no right to expect people to listen toyou, associate with you, or be in any way interested in your beliefs.’ And toJayne we should say: ‘Don’t let anyone mess with your brain.’