had to decide if they would believe the testimony of a woman claiming to have suffered a traumatic sexual assault by Judge Kavanaugh—and thus possibly reject him as a candidate for the Supreme Court—or if they would believe his vehement refutations of those accusations and vote to confirm him as a justice in the highest court of the land. Both the senators and the country were deeply divided; women were more likely to believe Dr. Ford, while men were more likely to believe Judge Kavanaugh;1 those on the left were more supportive of Dr. Ford, while those on the right were more supportive of Judge Kavanaugh.
Which side, in this fraught case, held the moral high ground? The Democratic senators surely felt that they were in the right by supporting a woman who courageously stepped forward to speak publicly about a sexual assault she had experienced, while the Republican senators undoubtedly felt just as confident that the right thing to do was to support a man facing unsubstantiated accusations of a decades-old crime, sparing him from the derailment of his career and the sullying of his stalwart reputation.
Ultimately—and as is unfortunately often the nature of accusations of sexual assault—it was her word against his. Who was more believable, Dr. Ford or Judge Kavanaugh? Who was more credible? And beyond the credibility of these two individuals, what was the right thing to do for the country? A tense, troubling, and extremely difficult moment for the United States—both politically and morally.
And that’s exactly when God was brought to the fore.
At the very end of an arduous day marked by questions, answers, tears, recriminations, declarations, and pontifications, the final moments in determining the fate of Judge Kavanaugh rested in the hands of John Kennedy, the NRA-backed Republican senator from Louisiana. He was the last senator to hold the floor and the last member of the committee to ask any questions of Judge Kavanaugh. And for the senator, it would be the judge’s faith in God that would ultimately settle the matter.
Here are the key excerpts from their brief but potent exchange:
“Do you believe in God?” Senator Kennedy asked.
“I do,” Judge Kavanagh replied.
“I’m gonna give you a last opportunity, right here, right in front of God and country. I want you to look me in the eye. Are Dr. Ford’s allegations true?”
“They are not accurate as to me. I have not questioned that she might have been sexually assaulted at some point in her life by someone, someplace. But as to me, I’ve never done this. Never. Done this to her, or to anyone else . . .”
And then:
“None of these allegations are true?” the senator asked.
“Correct.”
“No doubt in your mind?”
“Zero. One hundred percent certain.”
“Not even a scintilla?”
“Not a scintilla. One hundred percent certain, Senator.”
“Do you swear to God?”
“I swear to God.”
“That’s all I have, Judge,” concluded the senator.
And that’s all he needed.
If Judge Kavanaugh believed in God, then that was that. If he could solemnly swear to a supernatural being, then he simply must be telling the truth.
For Senator Kennedy—and for many millions of Americans—a proclaimed faith in God is eminently significant when it comes to discerning the nature of truth or lies, good or evil, wrong or right. After all, God-believers are more apt to be more truthful, good, and moral than secular nonbelievers, right? As President Trump’s first attorney general, Jeff Sessions, has publicly proclaimed, secular people are actually incapable of knowing truth, for “without God, there is no truth.”2 Jeff Sessions’s replacement, Attorney General William Barr, has gone even further, declaring that social problems such as crime, drugs, and sexually transmitted diseases are the direct result of a “moral crisis” perpetuated by the “secularists of today.”3 For Senator Kennedy, Attorneys General Sessions and Barr, and so many other powerful people occupying key positions within Trump’s administration, God is the underlying bedrock of truth, goodness, and decency. Without God, according to their perspective, moral life simply isn’t possible.
It’s an oddly ironic perspective to be trumpeted by people supporting a president who is among the most morally bankrupt leaders we’ve ever had. But, nonetheless, it’s a perspective that rests on centuries of certitude.
Theistic Morality
The insistence that morality depends upon God remains one of the most widespread, popularly held notions. As Ivan, one of the main characters in Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov declares, if there is no God, then everything—including sexual assault—would be permitted.4 Or in the words of leading contemporary Christian philosopher Alvin Plantinga, “God himself is the origin of moral constraints. It is his will, his commands or approvals, that determine what is right and wrong, morally acceptable or morally objectionable.”5 Or in the even more definitive words of Donald Trump supporter and top Evangelical apologist William Lane Craig, “the concept of morality loses all meaning in a universe without God. There can be no right and wrong . . . without God, good and evil do not exist.”6
Despite the fact that such an unequivocal, age-old, God-based view of morality continues to be shared by millions of people, its global popularity provides no cover for its intrinsic erroneousness. The deeply entrenched beliefs that there must be a God in order for morality to exist—and that we must believe in this God in order to be moral—are both problematic and, in many instances, pernicious. And while such a theistic approach to ethical behavior may have served humans well in bygone centuries, today—given our advanced understanding of human evolution, moral psychology, neurology, sociology, etc.—this God-based morality is at best unhelpful, and at worst maladaptive.7
Thus, while I can’t speak to the veracity of Judge Kavanagh’s denials of Dr. Ford’s accusations, I can confidently assert that his publicly purported belief in God during a United States Senate Judiciary Committee hearing should not, in any way, be accepted as some sort of ultimate guarantee of his truthfulness, his character, or his moral compass. And the pervasive premise that personal faith in the supernatural rests at the heart of moral living—a premise shared by our most powerful leaders—should not be accepted uncritically.
The brute fact is that morality based on belief in God—theistic morality—rests on untrue premises, limits our capacity for empathy and compassion, stymies our ability to take responsibility for our choices and actions, obfuscates the naturally evolved sources of ethical conduct, and ultimately thwarts moral progress, holding individuals and societies back from confronting the dire problems of the day and attending to the very real suffering they produce.
That said, my critique of theistic morality is not meant to impugn all people of faith. I happily recognize that many worshippers of God are moral and ethical and do a tremendous amount of good in the world. And not all religious people base their morality solely upon God, to be sure. Nor are all religious people irrationally fervent or dangerously dogmatic in their faith; many are humble in their religiosity, don’t think that their religion is the only true one, and don’t seek to force their religion on others. Such moderately religious people abound. But, unfortunately,
