A review of The Moral Landscape by Sam Harris (2010).
This provocative book written by neuroscientist, philosopher and public intellectual Sam Harris makes the ambitious argument that Science can (and should) be used as a tool to determine human values. It’s a controversial thesis, one that has unsurprisingly stepped on quite a few intellectual toes since the books publication!
Harris’ claim that scientific enquiry can discover objective moral truths is grounded in a position of ‘consequentialist morality’ (meaning the consequences of moral ideas to human well-being is viewed as the only measure for whether something is good or bad). This type of calculation-based morality is familiar to most people in the form of ‘Utilitarianism’, a narrower (and somewhat nastier) version of consequentialism.
To make his case, Harris draws from his own neurological research, philosophical analysis, and a stern critique of religious morality – what else to expect from one the generation’s most prolific atheists? The enormity of the books undertaking may well intimidate some readers; however, Harris manages this topic in his characteristically lucid style, building up his argument at a pace which always feels sensible and coherent (not something that can always be said of my writing, alas).
This makes the Moral Landscape surprisingly accessible to the general reader, however this is not without its drawbacks. In his attempt to avoid getting bogged down in complex philosophical discussions, Harris’ position at times seems somewhat bare-bones. Sidestepping many core ethical debates in just a few lines and providing little rebuttal to standard criticisms of consequentialism, the book can occasionally feel like it was written for a particular audience: those who already share Harris’ general philosophical convictions.
The pessimistic reader may also accuse Harris of merely trying to use claims of moral truth as a means to justify his own pre-existing ethical biases. However, it should be recognised that even Harris’ worldview (secular humanism and political liberalism) are not exempt from the icy appraisal of the ‘moral science’ he proposes. If such ideas are shown to be a barrier to human well-being then they can be safely abandoned. This may be the greatest virtue of the book: that the author has created a moral framework under which he, himself, may well prove to be wrong. (That is Science, after all)!
The Moral Landscape is also less prescriptive about specific moral ideas than many may assume. Indeed, Harris expresses scepticism that a complete set of moral truths will ever realistically be found (quite a mammoth-sized concession given the thesis of the book). Harris suggests the work of moralizing may never be complete. In this sense, his theory is perhaps better read as a tool of moral condemnation – an excuse to condemn moral ideas which inflict human misery, rather than to propose any kind of moral blueprint (an idea which may well ring alarm bells for any of you plucky libertines, fearing the tyranny of state-mandated morality)!
At its core, The Moral Landscape is a bitingly effective challenge to the firewall that has long existed between morality and science. Many are likely to remain unconvinced by the argument. Others may even prove incensed by it! But for the audacity of the project alone, and because of the clarity and style with which it’s written, this book certainly deserves a read.