What Is Ethically Demanded?

K. E. Løgstrup's Philosophy of Moral Life

Hans Fink, Robert Stern, Hans Fink, Robert Stern

• Publisher: University of Notre Dame Press
• Year: 2017
• ISBN:
  9780268101886
• Topic: Philosophie
• Subtopic: Éthique et philosophie morale

This collection of essays by leading international philosophers considers central themes in the ethics of Danish philosopher Knud Ejler Løgstrup (1905–1981). Løgstrup was a Lutheran theologian much influenced by phenomenology and by strong currents in Danish culture, to which he himself made important contributions. The essays in What Is Ethically Demanded? K. E. Løgstrup's Philosophy of Moral Life are divided into four sections. The first section deals predominantly with Løgstrup's relation to Kant and, through Kant, the system of morality in general. The second section focuses on how Løgstrup stands in connection with Kierkegaard, Heidegger, and Levinas. The third section considers issues in the development of Løgstrup's ethics and how it relates to other aspects of his thought. The final section covers certain central themes in Løgstrup's position, particularly his claims about trust and the unfulfillability of the ethical demand. The volume includes a previously untranslated early essay by Løgstrup, "The Anthropology of Kant's Ethics, " which defines some of his basic ethical ideas in opposition to Kant's. The book will appeal to philosophers and theologians with an interest in ethics and the history of philosophy.

Contributors: K. E. Løgstrup, Svend Andersen, David Bugge, Svein Aage Christoffersen, Stephen Darwall, Peter Dews, Paul Faulkner, Hans Fink, Arne Grøn, Alasdair MacIntyre, Wayne Martin, Kees van Kooten Niekerk, George Pattison, Robert Stern, and Patrick Stokes.

PART IV

Themes and Problems: Trust, Dependency, and Unfulfillability

ELEVEN

Trust and the Radical Ethical Demand

Paul Faulkner

Den etiske fordring (The Ethical Demand) begins with the claim that it “is a characteristic of human life that we normally encounter one another with natural trust” (EF p. 17/ED p. 8). And trust is central to Løgstrup’s ethical theory because his perceptive account of the moral psychology of trust brings his ethical theorizing close to the ground of human experience, and this provides him with a platform from which to criticize alternative moral theories. Through being driven by theory rather than such a close regard for human experience, these alternatives become “moralism, which,” Løgstrup says, “is morality’s way of being immoral” (NS p. 36/BED p. 103).

I believe that Løgstrup does get the moral psychology of trust right and that these criticisms are therefore sure in that foundation. However, there is some tension between our thinking about what it is to trust and be trustworthy, on the one hand, and Løgstrup’s own moral theory, on the other—specifically his idea that human encounters impose a radical ethical demand. This generates the worry that if the evaluations that are associated with our thinking about trust reveal the contours of correct ethical thought, then the idea that human encounters instantiate a radical ethical demand looks potentially wrongheaded. I do not believe, however, that this is a problem for Løgstrup.

Løgstrup on Trust

Løgstrup’s account of trust is remarkably rich, and I will not try to fully describe it. Rather, I will outline two features of it: that trust involves a particular vulnerability, and that trust involves reasoning about the trust situation in a particular way. These features together show how Løgstrup is very sensitive to the moral psychology of trust, and how he uses this against alternative moral theories.

Put simply, trust involves two levels of vulnerability: one practical, and one emotional:

To trust, however, is to lay oneself open. This is why we react vehemently when our trust is “abused,” as we say, even though it may have been only in some inconsequential matter. Abused trust is trust that is turned against the person who does the trusting. The embarrassment and danger to which we are subjected by the abuse is bad enough. But even worse is the fact that our trust was scorned by the other person. For the other person to have been able to abuse it, our trust must simply have left him or her cold…. And it is a question whether it is not the indifference thus manifested toward us in his or her abuse of our trust, even more than the unpleasant consequences of the abuse itself, which evokes our bitter reaction. (EF p. 18/ED p. 9)

In trust one lays oneself open to “unpleasant consequences” were a trusted party not to do what one trusts him or her to do. This is the practical side of the vulnerability implied by trust. Consider Richard Holton’s example of the group-bonding game where one person is blindfolded, spun around and must then let herself fall, or the child that jumps off the wall into his parent’s outstretched arms.¹ To abuse this trust would be to let the blindfolded person or child fall. The unpleasant consequence would be the bump the trusting parties would thereby receive. But clearly this is not the only way these parties would suffer, and, as Løgstrup observes, it can be the minor suffering. In addition, they would suffer an emotional reaction to this abuse of trust. They would feel let down. And this more complex vulnerability Løgstrup would, I think, trace along four tracks.

First, the abuse of trust makes it painfully salient to the trusting party that the trusted was “indifferent” or “cold” to the trusting person’s dependent situation. Second, this attitude of indifference then painfully contrasts with the attitude of the trusting party towards the trusted, which is that of trust and which Løgstrup compares to the attitudes of love and sympathy. The comparison is that trust does not involve calculations about the character of the trusted because it does not admit of suspicion and, as such, is not guarded (EF p. 22 and p. 159/ED p. 13 and p. 139). So it is as if the trusting party “has dared to come forward in the hope of being accepted, and then is not accepted” (EF p. 19/ED p. 10). Third, this difference in attitude then shows that the trusting party had expectations of the trusted—not expectations in the sense of beliefs about outcome but in the sense of things expected of the trusted. And “whether articulated or silent, the expectation manifests itself in the presupposition that the other person is to fulfil the expectation” (EF p. 19/ED p. 10). The falsity of this presupposition then leaves the trusted feeling exposed: she made a “mistake” (EF p. 20/ED p. 11). Fourth, this adds vigor to the reactive emotion provoked by the trusted party’s failure to fulfill the expectation the trusting party had of him. The feeling of being let down then spills over into “moral reproaches and accusations” (EF p. 19/ED p. 10). So in trusting, one is vulnerable in the simple practical sense that one depends on a trusted party doing something; and one is vulnerable in the more complex emotional sense that one’s attitude of trust renders one open to certain reactive attitudes and this emotional dynamic.

Second, trust involves reasoning about the trust situation in a particular way. Trust, one might say, has its own particular “logic.” This point may be put positively and negatively. Put positively, it is the idea that the trusted person’s action should be a response to the dependence of the trusting person. For example, when my child jumps off the wall and trusts me to catch him, my reason for catching him should be just that this is what he needs: to be caught. Again the comparison with love and sympathy is apposite: in trust one is moved by care for the dependent party and not by interest or duty. Thus, this point may equally be put negatively: one does not reason like the trustworthy person if one pays too much attention to matters of interest and questions of duty. For example, in the group-bonding game, if I catch my colleague merely because I want to ensure he catches me when I am blindfolded, I act as the trustworthy person would act, but my reasoning does not accord with the “logic” of trust. In this case my reasoning is driven by a calculation of interest, and trust “atrophies” when “I begin to make calculations” (EF p. 159/ED p. 139). The “logic” of trust is not that of reciprocity, which is “a matter of calculation” (EF p. 137/ED p. 118). Reciprocity is driven by a concern about interest as opposed to something like love or sympathy. Contrastingly, the “logic” of trust is “one-sided” since what is demanded is just that the trusted party “take care of the person’s life” (EF p. 134/ED p. 116).

Equally, one does not reason as the trustworthy person if one’s reasoning is framed by a concern with duty. Again, in the group-bonding case, if I catch my colleague merely because I think it is my duty to do so, I act as the trustworthy person, but my reasoning does not accord with the “logic” of trust. This is because I pay insufficient attention to the needs of my colleague. In this respect, Løgstrup considers the case of the Good Samaritan, who was trustworthy because “what occupied the Samaritan’s thoughts (if we simply take the story as it stands) were the needs of the victim and how best to help him” (OK pp. 125–26/BED p. 76). By contrast, to reason in terms of interest or duty is to be indifferent to the needs of the other person. Another example Løgstrup gives, which illustrates this well, is that of borrowing a book from a friend John with the promise to return it by noon.² The trustworthy thing to do is to return this book by this time. But being trustworthy also involves thinking about the situation in accordance with what I have been calling the “logic” of trust. Thus, one’s returning the book should not be the result of being moved by the thought, “I ought to do whatever I promise anyone that I will” (NS p. 36/BED p. 103). And, one could add, nor should it be the result of thinking, “If I don’t return John’s book, he might not lend to me in the future.” Rather, one should return John’s book simply because one is moved by the thought “John needs the book” (NS p. 36/BED p. 103). Only with this thought is my attitude towards John not one of indifference.

Trust involves practical and emotional dependence. And trusting or being trustworthy requires that one think about one’s actions in a certain way; there is what I have called a “logic” to trust. These two features of trust are central to Løgstrup’s philosophy in that they demonstrate his sensitivity to our moral psychology, and through doing so offer a platform for criticizing moral theory. Thus, Løgstrup is surely correct when he describes the vulnerability we experience in trust, and when he describes the person who returns John’s book merely out of duty as “a prig” who “cares not two pins about John” (NS p. 37/BED p. 104). And a similar case here is that of Michael Stocker, who considers the act of visiting a friend Harry in the hospital in order to cheer him up. This visit would fail to have this effect if Harry learned one only visited because one felt a duty to do so, for then it seems as if one acts under duress; and here Løgstrup is again sharp to observe: “Duty enters when I am trying to wriggle out of the situation” (OK p. 126/BED p. 76).

This then forms Løgstrup’s basis for criticizing moral theory, since, as he observes, “if the motivating reason for my returning the book to John at the promised time is not one of consideration for John but my resolve to live in accordance with the general principle that promises should be kept, my act is not moral but moralistic” (NS p. 38/BED p. 105). Therefore, any moral theory that puts duty above a particular concern for the people to whom duty is owed—such as Kant’s—is “moralistic.” In short, it is a failing of Kantian moral theory that it does not capture the moral psychology of trust; it does not recognize the “logic” of trust, which requires one respond to the fact of another’s dependence.³

An Analysis of Trust

Trust is a form of reliance: it is the act of depending coupled with a positive attitude towards this dependence. But there are normative and nonnormative positive attitudes that identify two distinct senses of trust. To illustrate this suppose that the only way to cross a chasm is by a rope bridge, which, due to the inclemency of the jungle weather, needs to be regularly replaced. If one has to cross this bridge when it is in a heavily deteriorated state, one relies on the bridge but does not trust it because one’s reliance is forced. However, if the bridge is newly restored, it can make sense to say one trusts the bridge to hold one’s weight. One trusts because one relies and has a positive attitude towards one’s reliance. This attitude is one of expecting—in the sense of believing—that the bridge will hold. Thus trust can be no more than a matter of reliance and expectation: it is a willingness to depend because one has a positive belief about the outcome of dependence. In the sense, I can trust the bridge to hold my weight, my car to start in the morning, and my alarm clock to wake me up.

Moreover, trust in this sense can be interpersonal. We, as Martin Hollis observes, “trust one another to behave predictably in a sense that applies equally to the natural world at large.”⁴ I trust other drivers, for instance, to drive on the left (or right). Or take the group-bonding game and suppose that I am to go first. I might trust my colleague to catch me merely in the sense that I depend on this and do so because I believe it will happen. We have all sorts of reasons for such beliefs. In this case, I could, for instance, support my belief by a calculation of interest; I could reason, “It is in my colleague’s interest that I catch him, and since I will do this only if he catches me, it is in his interest to catch me; so my interest is in his interest, and I can thereby predict that he will catch me.” This is the reasoning that Russell Hardin describes as characteristic of trust: trust is reliance supported by a prediction based on the encapsulation of interest.⁵ But this is not trust as Løgstrup characterizes it. This is because trust in this sense is nonnormative: were I to depend on you on the basis of this calculation of interest, I could no more blame you if you do not catch me than I could blame the rope bridge if it fails to support me or my car if it fails to start.

However, it can be appropriate to blame someone who lets one’s trust down. Trust is something that can be betrayed, and its being so leaves the trusting party open to feelings of betrayal. These feelings can be appropriate because the positive expectation that accompanies the act of relying can be an expectation of the trusted, and not merely the expectation that something will happen. This is a normative expectation, and it gives a normative sense of trust. It is solely trust in this sense that Løgstrup is concerned with. This normative sense of trust can then be defined by the following analysis of the sentence “T trusts D to φ” (where “T” stands for the Trusting party and “D” for the trusteD party).

T trusts D to φ if and only if (1) T depends on D φ-ing, and (2) T expects (1) to motivate D to φ (where T expects this in the sense that T expects it of D that D be moved by the reason to φ given by [1]).⁶

Trust in both normative and nonnormative senses implies dependence and consists of a positive expectation about this dependence. But in the normative case the nature of the expectation is quite different from that of belief. It is an expectation of someone, namely that she will be motivated by our dependence on her to do what we depend on her doing. Hereafter let me understand all talk of trust to be talk of trust as thus normatively defined.⁷ This definition makes good sense of the various features of trust that Løgstrup draws attention to.

First, trust involves both practical and emotional vulnerability. That trust entails practical vulnerability follows directly from this definition. In trusting D to φ, T depends on D φ-ing, where to say this is just to say that D’s φ-ing is necessary for T achieving some good or end. For example, suppose you park your car in such a way that you block my car into its parking space. You tell me this, and I trust you to move your car when the time comes for me to leave. In this case, I depend on your moving your car in the practical sense that unless you move your car I cannot achieve the good of getting home.

Trust then also always involves emotional dependence because of the nature of the expectation it involves. The expectation that T has of D in trusting D to φ is a normative expectation that concerns how D should act, where D’s acting in the expected way requires that D φ for the specific reason that T depends upon D φ-ing. Given that this expectation is normative, its defeat will engender characteristic emotional responses—specifically a feeling of being let down or betrayed. For example, consider two ways of developing the car-parking case. In the first, you simply disappear and I am left alone in the office after everyone has gone home, wondering when I should give up on your reappearing. In this situation, I will feel very let down, and part of this feeling, as Løgstrup notes, will be a sense of grievance at your indifference towards me. The content of this feeling of grievance, I then suggest, is that you have not been moved by my dependence as I think you should have been. So I might articulate the feeling by saying something like, “but I needed you to move your car!” Suppose now, as a second way of developing this case, that you do move your car, but, it turns out, you do so only because your own plans have changed and when you parked you had no intention of moving it: your original plan was to be out for the evening. Again, I will feel aggrieved by your indifference, where you manifest your indifference by your unresponsiveness to my dependence. So again my grievance seems to have the content not merely that you failed to do something, because in this case you did do what I expected of you, but that you lacked the appropriate set of motivations, which in trust, I expected you to have. In both developments of this case, my reactive attitude is that my trust has been betrayed, and it is a vulnerability to this feeling that trust essentially involves. Essentially, because this reactive attitude is tied to the expectation: to expect it of D that D φ because he, T, depends on D φ-ing, is to be vulnerable to this reactive attitude were D not to φ or not to φ for this reason.

Second, there is a “logic” to trust such that in trust one reasons a certain way. Again, this point can be put positively and negatively. Put positively, and taking the perspective of the trusted party that preoccupies Løgstrup, in responding to T’s trust in a trustworthy way D will see T’s dependence as a reason to φ. Thus, as Løgstrup observes, D’s reason for φ-ing will be simply that T needs him to φ. The reason for returning John’s book, for instance, will be just...