Friday, June 13, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
The worst person in the world
An Affair To Remember:
Bob's family was horrified at the idea that his relationship with Dorothy might have become sexual. At his age, they wouldn't have thought it possible. But when Bob's son walked in and saw his dad's 82-year-old girlfriend performing oral sex on his 95-year-old father last December, incredulity turned into full-blown panic. "I didn't know where this was going to end," said the manager of the assisted-living facility where Bob and Dorothy lived. "It was pretty volatile." ...He's not really the worst person in the world, but Bob's son is a definitely a contemptible piece of shit. If the article had named this bluenosed asshole, I'd be tempted to fly out there and slap this miserable cretin with a trout.
Bob's son became determined to keep the two apart and asked the facility's staff to ensure that they were never left alone together.
After that, Dorothy stopped eating. She lost 21 pounds, was treated for depression, and was hospitalized for dehydration. When Bob was finally moved out of the facility in January, she sat in the window for weeks waiting for him. She doesn't do that anymore, though: "Her Alzheimer's is protecting her at this point," says her doctor, who thinks the loss might have killed her if its memory hadn't faded so mercifully fast.
Barefoot no more
I have a new job now. Presently, it's occupying 100% of my time and attention, even outside nominal work hours. Ramp-up time is always a pain in the ass, especially at the managerial level where you don't get any slack at all to learn the system. I'm expected to be productive from day one.
As soon as things settle down, I'll be posting more. Until then, I'll be posting links to interesting articles I find. You can also read The Apostate, a vastly better written (and thus more popular) blog than my own.
Update: OMG! Shoes!
As soon as things settle down, I'll be posting more. Until then, I'll be posting links to interesting articles I find. You can also read The Apostate, a vastly better written (and thus more popular) blog than my own.
Update: OMG! Shoes!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Our hopes and expectations/Black holes and revelations
Until recently, my knowledge of even basic formal logic has been woefully inadequate; however, an interest in developing effective argumentation and reasoning skills led me to remedy that lack. In my explorations, I came across Leibniz's reduction ad absurdum and proof method. Using this method, you can essentially prove the truth-value of a contradiction (not(not-p), and once you do that, anything logically follows (thus proving the limited utility of abstract logic!).
Some readers may have noted that I have off-hand mentioned that belief in god is "just as reasonable" as non-belief. I have always maintained that I would be convinced by a revelatory experience but that, absent such experience, I must conclude there is no such entity. It seems to me that the existence of god is not logically provable or disprovable in the abstract; there remains a 50/50 split chance one is right or wrong. This, however, is applicable only to god in the abstract, as some kind of supernatural/metaphysical entity with or without consciousness, typically beyond the ken of conscious inquiry. Once you start getting down to brass tacks and trying to discuss the nature of this entity you believe in, you start getting in to a lot of trouble.
In this, Rev. Sam Norton and I essentially agree. However, where I see this as the end of discussion -- how can one remain intellectually honest and proceed past "I have this sense of the divine?" -- he sees it as an opening to run amok with the linguistic acrobatics of Ludwig Wittgenstein. Wittgenstein's logic, which emphasizes the discovery of meaning through the context of usage in language, would seem to open logic systems to abuse of contradiction, allowing theologists to claim mind-bending logical positions, such as idolatry: god is a member of no set including the set of things which are not members of sets, thus causing the ghosts of Leibniz and Russell to disappear in puffs of logic. This, claims Sam, places god outside of definitions, such that discussing god must be done analogously if at all.
This, however, creates something of a paradox, I believe: By even analogously discussing god, theologians and the lay religious create a context to place it in, thus constraining its nature and giving it shape and form -- which should not be possible. So, in ascribing characteristics -- via scripture -- even via analogy, the religious violate the ineffableness of god by placing him within their scriptural tradition! This opens the various religions to logical systems; and it is impossible to rationally, logically arrive at any religious interpretation of god as true.
Like many amateur philosophers, I found Wittgenstein deeply stimulating and persuasive at first. So much so that I went out and bought every book of his I could find. I am no longer convinced of his superiority, though his radical views on language remain of utility. There's a tendency in us all to ascribe "all" the answers we need to one philosopher; I used to do that for Derrida, until I came to my senses (though I find some of his ideas, such as arbitrary binary pairing, retain immense utility).
I think the reason Sam, and many a theologian, is accused of being "slippery" is that they've taken Wittgenstein's emphasis on the importance of context and bastardized the sucker beyond recognition: the definition they ascribe to certain words -- i.e. god -- changes within the same context in one's dialogs with them. It's endlessly frustrating; it's like walking on ever-shifting sand. I can only speak for myself: I attempt to reason and argue within the frame of reference provided as often as possible, but find their frames changing upon the shifting needs of the debate. The "inability to define god" is ridiculous; this should lead to the ineffable conclusion, then, that all scriptural traditions are invalid because they draw certain conclusions regarding god's nature. Their own non-definition definition should, were they rigorous in their own thought, lead away from their scriptural tradition.
By engaging in linguistic prestidigitation to get away with it, they in fact personify my theory of religion as social order within a theistic framing with words like "...and it is only by attending to the practice of Christian life, most of all in the Eucharist, that Christian understandings of God can be found." [These are Sam's final words in the post linked above, emphasis mine.]
This is an immensely revealing statement about the choice inherent in adhering to scriptural traditions. It's not an argument for the truth of the Christ mythos or the Judeo-Christian god; it's an argument for the truth-value of the Christian tradition as a form of framing.
Which is fine, as far as it goes, if one is honest. But when you use the Wittgensteinian ever-shifting context argument to get around having to admit that you've basically successfully argued against the absolute truth of the Christian god, you basically create a conversation that is fundamentally dishonest. Instead, what you should have is scripture as an attempt to foster understanding of that ineffable feeling of the divine you believe you've experienced. (Again, I will leave it to neurologists and psychologists far smarter than I am to explore just where that feeling comes from; I think a good start can be found in Robert Burton's On Being Certain.) Where religion begins to fall apart, and where conflict begins, in the transposition of belief in truth from the revelation of god to the scriptural interpretation thereof.
I will explore further in future posts the utility of scriptural traditions as tools of socialization and whether or not those tools still require the presence of a god-figure (here's a hint: they don't).
[My thanks to the band Muse for the title; they're from the lyrics to the song "Starlight." Originally published at Often Right, Rarely Correct.]
Some readers may have noted that I have off-hand mentioned that belief in god is "just as reasonable" as non-belief. I have always maintained that I would be convinced by a revelatory experience but that, absent such experience, I must conclude there is no such entity. It seems to me that the existence of god is not logically provable or disprovable in the abstract; there remains a 50/50 split chance one is right or wrong. This, however, is applicable only to god in the abstract, as some kind of supernatural/metaphysical entity with or without consciousness, typically beyond the ken of conscious inquiry. Once you start getting down to brass tacks and trying to discuss the nature of this entity you believe in, you start getting in to a lot of trouble.
In this, Rev. Sam Norton and I essentially agree. However, where I see this as the end of discussion -- how can one remain intellectually honest and proceed past "I have this sense of the divine?" -- he sees it as an opening to run amok with the linguistic acrobatics of Ludwig Wittgenstein. Wittgenstein's logic, which emphasizes the discovery of meaning through the context of usage in language, would seem to open logic systems to abuse of contradiction, allowing theologists to claim mind-bending logical positions, such as idolatry: god is a member of no set including the set of things which are not members of sets, thus causing the ghosts of Leibniz and Russell to disappear in puffs of logic. This, claims Sam, places god outside of definitions, such that discussing god must be done analogously if at all.
This, however, creates something of a paradox, I believe: By even analogously discussing god, theologians and the lay religious create a context to place it in, thus constraining its nature and giving it shape and form -- which should not be possible. So, in ascribing characteristics -- via scripture -- even via analogy, the religious violate the ineffableness of god by placing him within their scriptural tradition! This opens the various religions to logical systems; and it is impossible to rationally, logically arrive at any religious interpretation of god as true.
Like many amateur philosophers, I found Wittgenstein deeply stimulating and persuasive at first. So much so that I went out and bought every book of his I could find. I am no longer convinced of his superiority, though his radical views on language remain of utility. There's a tendency in us all to ascribe "all" the answers we need to one philosopher; I used to do that for Derrida, until I came to my senses (though I find some of his ideas, such as arbitrary binary pairing, retain immense utility).
I think the reason Sam, and many a theologian, is accused of being "slippery" is that they've taken Wittgenstein's emphasis on the importance of context and bastardized the sucker beyond recognition: the definition they ascribe to certain words -- i.e. god -- changes within the same context in one's dialogs with them. It's endlessly frustrating; it's like walking on ever-shifting sand. I can only speak for myself: I attempt to reason and argue within the frame of reference provided as often as possible, but find their frames changing upon the shifting needs of the debate. The "inability to define god" is ridiculous; this should lead to the ineffable conclusion, then, that all scriptural traditions are invalid because they draw certain conclusions regarding god's nature. Their own non-definition definition should, were they rigorous in their own thought, lead away from their scriptural tradition.
By engaging in linguistic prestidigitation to get away with it, they in fact personify my theory of religion as social order within a theistic framing with words like "...and it is only by attending to the practice of Christian life, most of all in the Eucharist, that Christian understandings of God can be found." [These are Sam's final words in the post linked above, emphasis mine.]
This is an immensely revealing statement about the choice inherent in adhering to scriptural traditions. It's not an argument for the truth of the Christ mythos or the Judeo-Christian god; it's an argument for the truth-value of the Christian tradition as a form of framing.
Which is fine, as far as it goes, if one is honest. But when you use the Wittgensteinian ever-shifting context argument to get around having to admit that you've basically successfully argued against the absolute truth of the Christian god, you basically create a conversation that is fundamentally dishonest. Instead, what you should have is scripture as an attempt to foster understanding of that ineffable feeling of the divine you believe you've experienced. (Again, I will leave it to neurologists and psychologists far smarter than I am to explore just where that feeling comes from; I think a good start can be found in Robert Burton's On Being Certain.) Where religion begins to fall apart, and where conflict begins, in the transposition of belief in truth from the revelation of god to the scriptural interpretation thereof.
I will explore further in future posts the utility of scriptural traditions as tools of socialization and whether or not those tools still require the presence of a god-figure (here's a hint: they don't).
[My thanks to the band Muse for the title; they're from the lyrics to the song "Starlight." Originally published at Often Right, Rarely Correct.]
Monday, June 09, 2008
Sine qua non
Let me preface this by saying that I like Reverend Sam Norton. I think he is a decent, sincere man with a genuine interest in the well-being of others. I also think that he’s stubbornly incapable of stepping outside his own axioms while insisting atheists do precisely that. I find this endlessly frustrating, partially because I make it a personal point to do so whenever possible, but mostly because as a former atheist, the good reverend shouldn’t have that much trouble with it when discussing atheism and morality.
This is what makes discussions with theists about atheism and morality endlessly frustrating and, ultimately, discussions that broaden beyond the scope of apologetics and axioms totally fruitless. A theist typically – and wrongly – believes that morality flows from god one way or another. Either god is the source of morality or the prime mover behind laws of universal applicability. Either view is flawed, though – to borrow Rev. Sam’s words – one is more “sophisticated” than the other.
If morality flows from god, then morality cannot be absolute, no matter god’s nature: If god is capable of dictating what is and is not correct at any given time, then god is capable of changing that, which makes morality totally mutable by the whims of god. This view is simply an authoritarian one – we follow god’s wishes because they come from god. If god told the Israelites, “Slaughter me some Medianites” or “Stone thee thine disobedient children,” then they damn well did it, “Thou shalt not kill” notwithstanding. There are always pragmatic exceptions to even the most hard and fast rules under this view, and it requires endless semantic peregrinations to claim otherwise. This is the view of god as morality that falls prey to “The Euthyphro.” Morality, if it is directly of god, cannot be absolute, because then by their nature as dictates from god they are mutable by god. Which makes them subjective to god’s view (whether that changes or no; the very tale that Rev. Norton believes in, that of the Christ, argues that it does), which essentially creates an unfortunate bind for the theist: Moral subjectivism is the default state, and the argument simply becomes whose moral subjectivism is legitimate, god’s or man’s, returning one to the discussion of axioms.
Now, while I have interacted with or read no end of theists who believe the above (“Vox Dei,” he of the “I’ll kill babies if God tells me to,” might be perhaps one of the most notorious in the blogosphere), I don’t think Rev. Norton is one of them. I would ascribe to him the more “sophisticated” view that moral absolutes exist because god set them in motion. Much like the laws of physics, they are what they are. This removes the above problem of default moral subjectivism. This has the added bonus of neatly undermining the “but atheists are moral too!” argument: Of course we are; god’s rules in creating man mean we all have that moral compass that follows the rules of morality, regardless of whether we acknowledge its origin or not.
This is also wrong, but far more interesting, since both atheists and theists can get on board with similar premises so long as they agree to disagree on the axiomatic origin of these rules. The analogy to laws of physics, though, is inapt. Were morals absolute, they would be like the laws of physics and we would be incapable of broaching them. I should be no more able to murder than I am able to contravene gravity and drift into the stratosphere. Free will is not directly analogous to the physics of thrust, which allows flight, though. Murder is an act of finality, with a definite start and stop. Were an engine to stop generating thrust, gravity would re-assert itself with its own finality. So, by virtue of having free will (how much is a question I leave to psychologists and neurologists far brighter than I), and thus the ability to contravene moral rules in discrete acts, morality cannot be “absolute” in the sense intended by religious moral absolutists.
Neither of the above are proofs against the existence of god. What they do, however, is demonstrate that even if god is taken as axiomatic, one cannot arrive at moral absolutism. Moral objectivism independent of god is another issue entirely.
I find the existence of moral instinct in general pretty fascinating, and on the whole very convincing of a type of moral objectivism: there are clearly rules the average person is either loathe to contravene or will feel genuine self-generated repercussions for doing so (guilt, sadness, leading to repentance or suicide, etc.). But these rules are self-evidently not hard and fast. Not only that, but people can be trained to subsume their moral compass – or even born without one to begin with, and suffer few punishments, or even none at all.
Take the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders for example. A whole section of disorders, called Personality Disorders, are “an enduring pattern of inner experience and behavior that deviates markedly from the expectations of the individual’s culture.” Included – erroneously, I feel, based on the quoted definition – in these is Antisocial Personality Disorder, more commonly referred to as sociopathy. Such an individual has no conscience. They can learn moral rules, such as those taught by Christianity, and even mimic them, but do not feel their legitimacy. It is simply more convenient to follow them. They lack empathy for their fellows and feel no guilt or remorse when they abridge moral “laws.” This should simply not be possible were these laws as absolute as the laws of physics – a sociopath who jumps off an overpass still, just like a schizophrenic or a suicide, plummets straight down.
And so we are brought to the question of where moral laws come from. Rev. Norton, approvingly citing Peter Hitchens latest “but without god how can atheists be moral?” claptrap, makes an implicit nod to this when he argues that, wherever the ultimate authority for moral law comes from, in an explicitly Christian culture, atheists are undermining that culture by denying its legitimacy. This is not directly true. Though in subsequent posts Rev. Norton has trotted out the “atheism equals moral relativism” arguments, the original thread seems to me to be the more honest one: by denying the authority (not to mention existence) of god, atheists undermine the social order. But how so? Only if morality then, is like religion, which, to quote John Cleese from a lecture I was privileged to attend, “is simply crowd control.” Religion is one way in which moral rules – rules for social order – are instilled. But if the populace accede to these rules, then the legitimacy of god has no bearing on the legitimacy of – and willing adherence to – those rules. That they are successful for creating a social order deemed acceptable (if not desirable) by a sufficient threshold of people is all that matters.
Thus bringing us back to axioms. In Hitchens’ view, it is the denial of a final arbiter of justice that he finds offensive. This creates an undeniable tension: given the fallibility of man-made justice, how then are we to convince those lacking a moral compass to adhere to the moral laws? The myth of god, the all-seeing and -knowing archon who will adjudicate your sins, then, is an extremely useful, if outdated, social tool. Hitchens and Rev. Norton unwittingly concede that point when they argue that atheists “undermine” the social fabric. This is only true if an arbiter is necessary in order for their to be moral laws. I would argue not; however, the subject of moral objectivism versus moral subjectivism, and whether or not atheism must entail either, is very interesting, and deserves more elaboration later.
[Cross-posted at Often Right, Rarely Correct.]
This is what makes discussions with theists about atheism and morality endlessly frustrating and, ultimately, discussions that broaden beyond the scope of apologetics and axioms totally fruitless. A theist typically – and wrongly – believes that morality flows from god one way or another. Either god is the source of morality or the prime mover behind laws of universal applicability. Either view is flawed, though – to borrow Rev. Sam’s words – one is more “sophisticated” than the other.
If morality flows from god, then morality cannot be absolute, no matter god’s nature: If god is capable of dictating what is and is not correct at any given time, then god is capable of changing that, which makes morality totally mutable by the whims of god. This view is simply an authoritarian one – we follow god’s wishes because they come from god. If god told the Israelites, “Slaughter me some Medianites” or “Stone thee thine disobedient children,” then they damn well did it, “Thou shalt not kill” notwithstanding. There are always pragmatic exceptions to even the most hard and fast rules under this view, and it requires endless semantic peregrinations to claim otherwise. This is the view of god as morality that falls prey to “The Euthyphro.” Morality, if it is directly of god, cannot be absolute, because then by their nature as dictates from god they are mutable by god. Which makes them subjective to god’s view (whether that changes or no; the very tale that Rev. Norton believes in, that of the Christ, argues that it does), which essentially creates an unfortunate bind for the theist: Moral subjectivism is the default state, and the argument simply becomes whose moral subjectivism is legitimate, god’s or man’s, returning one to the discussion of axioms.
Now, while I have interacted with or read no end of theists who believe the above (“Vox Dei,” he of the “I’ll kill babies if God tells me to,” might be perhaps one of the most notorious in the blogosphere), I don’t think Rev. Norton is one of them. I would ascribe to him the more “sophisticated” view that moral absolutes exist because god set them in motion. Much like the laws of physics, they are what they are. This removes the above problem of default moral subjectivism. This has the added bonus of neatly undermining the “but atheists are moral too!” argument: Of course we are; god’s rules in creating man mean we all have that moral compass that follows the rules of morality, regardless of whether we acknowledge its origin or not.
This is also wrong, but far more interesting, since both atheists and theists can get on board with similar premises so long as they agree to disagree on the axiomatic origin of these rules. The analogy to laws of physics, though, is inapt. Were morals absolute, they would be like the laws of physics and we would be incapable of broaching them. I should be no more able to murder than I am able to contravene gravity and drift into the stratosphere. Free will is not directly analogous to the physics of thrust, which allows flight, though. Murder is an act of finality, with a definite start and stop. Were an engine to stop generating thrust, gravity would re-assert itself with its own finality. So, by virtue of having free will (how much is a question I leave to psychologists and neurologists far brighter than I), and thus the ability to contravene moral rules in discrete acts, morality cannot be “absolute” in the sense intended by religious moral absolutists.
Neither of the above are proofs against the existence of god. What they do, however, is demonstrate that even if god is taken as axiomatic, one cannot arrive at moral absolutism. Moral objectivism independent of god is another issue entirely.
I find the existence of moral instinct in general pretty fascinating, and on the whole very convincing of a type of moral objectivism: there are clearly rules the average person is either loathe to contravene or will feel genuine self-generated repercussions for doing so (guilt, sadness, leading to repentance or suicide, etc.). But these rules are self-evidently not hard and fast. Not only that, but people can be trained to subsume their moral compass – or even born without one to begin with, and suffer few punishments, or even none at all.
Take the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders for example. A whole section of disorders, called Personality Disorders, are “an enduring pattern of inner experience and behavior that deviates markedly from the expectations of the individual’s culture.” Included – erroneously, I feel, based on the quoted definition – in these is Antisocial Personality Disorder, more commonly referred to as sociopathy. Such an individual has no conscience. They can learn moral rules, such as those taught by Christianity, and even mimic them, but do not feel their legitimacy. It is simply more convenient to follow them. They lack empathy for their fellows and feel no guilt or remorse when they abridge moral “laws.” This should simply not be possible were these laws as absolute as the laws of physics – a sociopath who jumps off an overpass still, just like a schizophrenic or a suicide, plummets straight down.
And so we are brought to the question of where moral laws come from. Rev. Norton, approvingly citing Peter Hitchens latest “but without god how can atheists be moral?” claptrap, makes an implicit nod to this when he argues that, wherever the ultimate authority for moral law comes from, in an explicitly Christian culture, atheists are undermining that culture by denying its legitimacy. This is not directly true. Though in subsequent posts Rev. Norton has trotted out the “atheism equals moral relativism” arguments, the original thread seems to me to be the more honest one: by denying the authority (not to mention existence) of god, atheists undermine the social order. But how so? Only if morality then, is like religion, which, to quote John Cleese from a lecture I was privileged to attend, “is simply crowd control.” Religion is one way in which moral rules – rules for social order – are instilled. But if the populace accede to these rules, then the legitimacy of god has no bearing on the legitimacy of – and willing adherence to – those rules. That they are successful for creating a social order deemed acceptable (if not desirable) by a sufficient threshold of people is all that matters.
Thus bringing us back to axioms. In Hitchens’ view, it is the denial of a final arbiter of justice that he finds offensive. This creates an undeniable tension: given the fallibility of man-made justice, how then are we to convince those lacking a moral compass to adhere to the moral laws? The myth of god, the all-seeing and -knowing archon who will adjudicate your sins, then, is an extremely useful, if outdated, social tool. Hitchens and Rev. Norton unwittingly concede that point when they argue that atheists “undermine” the social fabric. This is only true if an arbiter is necessary in order for their to be moral laws. I would argue not; however, the subject of moral objectivism versus moral subjectivism, and whether or not atheism must entail either, is very interesting, and deserves more elaboration later.
[Cross-posted at Often Right, Rarely Correct.]
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Absolute morality
One of the stupider concepts in ethics is the notion of "absolute" morality. Without further qualification this phrase is completely meaningless. Everything is relative to something; even under the most rigid notions of metaphysical realism, the truth of any statement is relative to how the world really is.
The phrase "absolute" morality becomes meaningful only when one explicitly states something that the truth of moral statements is not relative to.
For example, Einstein's theory of relativity states (as Minkowski showed) that the space-time separation between two events is not relative to the velocity or acceleration of the observer. The spatial and temporal separation, however, are individually relative to the observer. And, of course, the truth of statements about the spatial, temporal or space-time separation of two events is relative to the actual physical state of affairs.
Furthermore, any relatively true statement can be made absolutely true by simply including the details of the relation. The statement "My keys are in my pocket" is, for instance, true or false relative to time (sometimes my keys are in my pocket, sometimes they are not). The statement, "My keys are in my pocket at 8 Jun 2008 2:49 PM" is absolutely false (they're on the dresser). And, of course, even the most "absolute" statement about where my keys are is true or false relative to where my keys actually are. (And we won't even think about the meanings of the individual words that appear in the statement.)
These points may seem pedantic, but so many complaints against atheist, humanist, and other philosophical ethics trade directly on the ambiguity of "absolute" and "relative". The charge that atheism fails to deliver "absolute" morality is simply meaningless without further clarification.
There are two kinds of "absolute" (in the sense of "not relative to") that we can reasonably guess theists typically mean by this complaint: not relative to time and place (i.e. universal), and not relative to individual opinion (i.e. objective). The charge is more precisely stated, then, that atheism fails to deliver moral realism.
The notion that atheism cannot possibly deliver moral realism — that universal, objective moral truth is analytically (i.e. by definition) precluded by atheism — is completely retarded. Atheism easily accommodates our ordinary notions of objective, universal laws of physical reality; there's no reason that atheism would analytically exclude moral realism. If some evidence were most simply explained by moral realism — just as the evidence of our senses is most simply explained by physical realism — then atheists would be moral realists.
The charge, however, that moral realism fails to most simply explain any evidence is, however, not retarded; indeed, I would actually agree. But what of it? If moral realism fails as an explanation, then it fails. The theist's charge is then not that naturalism fails to explain something, but that there is nothing for a subjectively preferred explanation to actually explain.
That's moral subjectivism with a vengeance!
The phrase "absolute" morality becomes meaningful only when one explicitly states something that the truth of moral statements is not relative to.
For example, Einstein's theory of relativity states (as Minkowski showed) that the space-time separation between two events is not relative to the velocity or acceleration of the observer. The spatial and temporal separation, however, are individually relative to the observer. And, of course, the truth of statements about the spatial, temporal or space-time separation of two events is relative to the actual physical state of affairs.
Furthermore, any relatively true statement can be made absolutely true by simply including the details of the relation. The statement "My keys are in my pocket" is, for instance, true or false relative to time (sometimes my keys are in my pocket, sometimes they are not). The statement, "My keys are in my pocket at 8 Jun 2008 2:49 PM" is absolutely false (they're on the dresser). And, of course, even the most "absolute" statement about where my keys are is true or false relative to where my keys actually are. (And we won't even think about the meanings of the individual words that appear in the statement.)
These points may seem pedantic, but so many complaints against atheist, humanist, and other philosophical ethics trade directly on the ambiguity of "absolute" and "relative". The charge that atheism fails to deliver "absolute" morality is simply meaningless without further clarification.
There are two kinds of "absolute" (in the sense of "not relative to") that we can reasonably guess theists typically mean by this complaint: not relative to time and place (i.e. universal), and not relative to individual opinion (i.e. objective). The charge is more precisely stated, then, that atheism fails to deliver moral realism.
The notion that atheism cannot possibly deliver moral realism — that universal, objective moral truth is analytically (i.e. by definition) precluded by atheism — is completely retarded. Atheism easily accommodates our ordinary notions of objective, universal laws of physical reality; there's no reason that atheism would analytically exclude moral realism. If some evidence were most simply explained by moral realism — just as the evidence of our senses is most simply explained by physical realism — then atheists would be moral realists.
The charge, however, that moral realism fails to most simply explain any evidence is, however, not retarded; indeed, I would actually agree. But what of it? If moral realism fails as an explanation, then it fails. The theist's charge is then not that naturalism fails to explain something, but that there is nothing for a subjectively preferred explanation to actually explain.
That's moral subjectivism with a vengeance!
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