ldsphilosopher

Nathan Richardson

Down syndrome does not cause a learning disability. If you don’t believe me, keep reading.

Once upon a time, there was a scientist who studied children and their biological and cognitive development. He met all kinds of children and became acquainted with a variety of personalities, body types, and abilities. Over the course of his travels and studies, he noticed one pattern in particular. He met several children who had similar characteristics: they had learning difficulties, accompanied by some unique facial features (slanted, Asian-looking eyes and enlarged tongue) and medical problems later in life (heart defects, thyroid complications).¹ He wrote down the pattern of characteristics he was noticing:

The scientist was fond of these children and wanted to help make their lives better, perhaps by identifying and addressing the condition earlier in life or by preventing it altogether in the future with other children. He assumed that because there was such a high degree of similar characteristics among this group of people, the phenomenon might be an effect of some unknown cause:

He was very curious about what it was that caused this phenomenon:

Resolving a widespread and little-understood condition is a big task, and as with many scientific pursuits, it was not to be accomplished by just one person or within just one lifetime. So the scientist discussed it with other scholars far and wide. In talking about the condition, he found it useful (as do most scholars) to give that collection of characteristics a label. After all, it’s inefficient to invite people to an Annual Conference on The-phenomenon-of-having-learning-difficulties-accompanied-by-unique-facial-features-such-as-slanted-eyes-as-well-as-medical problems-such-as-heart-defects. So they labeled the phenomenon to save on ink cartridges:

Having a label made it easier to go about discussing and sharing information about their common pursuit. He and many other scientists then devoted hours and years of study to understanding and addressing the phenomenon. A large part of their study was aimed at discovering what caused the phenomenon. That was their main goal.

An Odd Turn of Events

Up to this point, this story is a true, if simplified, version of real events. However, imagine how silly it would seem if the following happened.

A man named, oh, Norman came along and asked the scientists what they were studying. They said, “Children with Down syndrome.”

Norman asked, “What’s Down syndrome?”

They told him, “It’s when a person has learning difficulties, slanted eyes, heart defects,” and described the other characteristics.

Norman nodded. “I see. So children who have those characteristics have Down syndrome?”

“Correct. We’re trying to understand why they have these characteristics.”

Norman replied, “Well, that’s simple. It’s because they have Down syndrome.”

The scientists blinked. “Well, what we mean is, we want to know what causes these characteristics.”

Norman shook his head patiently. “Down syndrome causes it, silly.”

Some scientists smiled politely while others just looked confused. Norman walked away shaking his head. “I don’t see why these scientists get so many research grants when their question has already been answered. We know perfectly well what causes those characteristics—Down syndrome does.”

The Nominal Fallacy

What Norman just did is commit a logical fallacy. This particular fallacy is called the nominal fallacy.² (That’s why I called him Norman—because it kind of sounds like nominal. I know, gimmicky.) Norman observed a phenomenon, gave it a label, and then began to treat the label as though it were the cause:

The nominal fallacy is “the mistake of assuming that because we have given a name to something, therefore we have explained it.”² In other words, talking as though the label were the cause.

To say that “Down syndrome” causes children to have the aforementioned list of medical conditions is about as accurate, insightful, and useful as saying that rain causes water droplets to fall from the sky. Rain does not make water fall from the sky; rain is water falling from the sky. What causes rain is another question entirely. Likewise, Down syndrome does not cause that list of conditions; Down syndrome is that list of conditions. What causes Down syndrome is another question.

Jeff Robinson, a psychologist, explains the nominal fallacy by giving another common example:

If I let go of this pen, what will happen? It will fall. Why? Gravity. People say gravity; the pen falls because of gravity. The fact of the matter is, we don’t know why the pen falls; all we know is that things that are unsupported fall. Gravity is one of the four fundamental physical forces of the universe that explain everything else, but nothing explains them. We just know that everything that is unsupported falls, and we call that fact gravity. We label the fact that things fall gravity. Now I like that: one of the things that influences our life the most is gravity—it influences me every single day of my life—and we don’t know why it happens. I think that’s wonderful, wonderful. We tend to think the world’s pretty explained. We label it and call it gravity, and then we do an interesting thing: we talk about it as though we have explained it. So why does the pen fall? Well, because of gravity. Well, how do you know there’s gravity? Well, because things fall. What makes them fall? Well, gravity.

Do you see it just goes in a circle? It doesn’t really add any information. We do that all the time in our society, in our culture: talk about things, label them, and then describe them as having acted as a result of the label.²

The first time I read this talk, I understood the fallacy Dr. Robinson describes but I completely disbelieved that gravity was a good example of it. I thought, “No, gravity is an entity, a force that causes things. Everyone knows that.” The fact that I misunderstood gravity shows how deeply ingrained the nominal fallacy can be in our view of the world.

Problems Caused by the Fallacy

Jeff discussed this fallacy in his article Gravity Made It Happen. Like him, I am not claiming that this is a widespread mistake made by scientists everywhere. I think, though, that many laymen make this mistake. And in some fields of study, it may be widespread.

The nominal fallacy might seem obvious and comical in the Down syndrome example; I intended it to be transparent like that, so as to be quickly grasped. But as I’ve learned about this fallacy, I’ve been surprised at how thoroughly entrenched it can sometimes be in the way we conceive of and talk about certain phenomena. I hope to elaborate in future articles, but some labels that I think many people sometimes mistakenly use as causative explanations include the following (readers are free to list other examples in the comments section):

• luck
• entropy
• gravity
• work ethic
• temper
• self-esteem
• autism
• anorexia
• homosexuality

There are at least two negative effects of making this mistake. First, it leads to a poor understanding of the phenomenon in question. This can, of course, lead to both mild and terrible outcomes, depending on what phenomenon we’re talking about. Second, it leads to complacency about pursuing a better understanding. If we think we already understand the cause of a phenomenon, then we stop studying it as we should; we don’t seek what we’ve already found.

The Right Approach

Using the story as an example, if the scientists in question had listened to Norman the Nomological Fallacist, they would have believed his schema and thought, “Well, we’ve solved the cause. All that’s left is to figure out how to deal with it when it happens.” In contrast, if they were to refuse to accept Norman’s complacency, recognizing the fallacy as an explanation that really explains nothing, they would continue their search, eventually discovering the cause of Down syndrome: an extra copy of genetic material on the twenty-first human chromosome, during conception. Having found the cause, they can now devote their efforts more effectively to preventing or managing the condition:

The purpose of this post was to clearly explain and illustrate the nominal fallacy, sometimes known as the nominalistic fallacy or the nomological fallacy. Why bother focusing on this particular fallacy on a site about the restored gospel? It is an incredibly frequent error that we often make, and it relates directly to many conversations about the gospel and living the commandments. In future articles, I plan to show how the nominal fallacy can actually lead us to deny certain core doctrines like agency. But even speaking generally, my hope is that by making explicit this logical error, we can all avoid making it in the future. Of course, if you find yourself making this mistake and someone calls you on it, just tell them that the nominal fallacy made you do it.

Notes

I apologize that some of the graphics are blurry. I can’t for the life of me figure out what setting I need to change to make them appear sharp. If anyone out there is a graphics wiz, please email me or let me know in the comments!

2. Jeffrey Robinson, “Homosexuality: What Works and What Doesn’t Work,” presentation given 6 Oct. 2002, TheGuardrail.com, accessed 13 Apr. 2010.

Nathan Richardson

What do arguments against intelligent design have to do with psychology?

I’ll level with you—this post isn’t really about Intelligent Design (ID). It’s about the philosophy of science, and what rejecting Intelligent Design as a science implies about psychology. In order to make that connection, though, I have to give some background about the debate concerning ID.

Intelligent Design theory is the idea “that certain features of the universe and of living things are best explained by an intelligent cause, not an undirected process such as natural selection.”¹ It has been strongly attacked in the media as an unscientific attempt to inject religion into the public schools. Regardless of the motives or politics behind it, I want to examine the question of its scientific status and some implications this might have regarding restored doctrines.

Is ID a Science?

Many criticisms of ID assert that it is not a science. In contrast, Thomas Nagel, a philosopher and an atheist, contends that ID is in fact a scientific question (and that it’s constitutional to bring up in public schools). I highly recommend his article. Whether you agree with him or not, it is a refreshing taste of clear thinking and thought-provoking argument amidst a lot of muddy arguments on both sides. Here is the main gist:

Whatever the merits [of ID and Darwinian evolution], however, that is clearly a scientific disagreement, not a disagreement between science and something else. … If one scientist is a theist and another an atheist, this is either a scientific or a nonscientific disagreement between them. If it is scientific (supposing this is possible), then their disagreement is scientific all the way down. If it is not a scientific disagreement, and if this difference in their nonscientific beliefs about the antecedent possibilities affects their rational interpretation of the same empirical evidence, I do not see how we can say that one is engaged in science and the other is not. Either both conclusions are rendered nonscientific by the influence of their nonscientific assumptions, or both are scientific in spite of those assumptions. …

I agree with Philip Kitcher that the response of evolutionists to creation science and intelligent design should not be to rule them out as “not science.” He argues that the objection should rather be that they are bad science, or dead science.²

On the other hand, many others argue that ID is not a scientific question. This includes both atheists and theists—for example, Orson Scott Card, a believing Mormon. In an equally well-reasoned and well-explained article, he says Intelligent Design theory is not a scientific endeavor because it involves intent or purpose:

Science is the process of trying to discover mechanistic causes of publicly observable phenomena. The trouble is that causation cannot be positively proven. … So the best that scientists can do is make guesses (hypotheses) about causation and then conduct experiments designed to prove those guesses wrong. … And that’s just on the subject of mechanical cause. When it comes to final cause, which we call “purpose” or “motive,” science is simply helpless. … Scientists must therefore conduct their work as if the entire universe were one big machine, in which everything that happens is caused to happen by outside forces that push on each other. …

That is why science simply cannot admit God—or Intelligent Design—into the public discussion of science. The moment transcendent forces are invoked, science ends. And that’s why I am among those who do not want to see Intelligent Design offered as a scientific alternative to Darwinism in science classes. It is, at best, a distraction; it is not that ID is wrong, it’s that it’s irrelevant to the project of science.³

I don’t know that this is the only argument against ID’s status as a scientific pursuit, but from what I’ve read, it seems to be a fairly common one.

Card brings up an interesting point about the definition of science. I am not so much interested in proving that ID is or is not a science as I am in explaining the ramifications of either conclusion. In particular, I hope to show that any Latter-day Saint who believes that ID is not a science for the reasons that Card explained cannot believe that psychology is a science. In other words, if Intelligent Design is not science, then neither is psychology. Allow me to explain.

A Logical Trilemma

Here are three propositions, of which only two can be true at the same time:

1. Science is the study of mechanistic causation, and cannot involve the study of intent or purpose.
2. Psychology—the study of people’s thoughts, actions, and behavior—is a science.
3. People have agency, meaning their thoughts, actions, and behavior are largely governed by intent and purpose.

If (1) and (2) are true, (3) cannot be true, because our thoughts, actions and behavior would be determined purely by mechanisms such as genes and environment, not choices. If (2) and (3) are true, then (1) cannot be true; we would have to adjust our definition of science to include intent or purpose. If (1) and (3) are true, then (2) cannot be true; there could never be a mechanistic study of people’s intents and choices.

As a Latter-day Saint, I know (3) is true. There’s no doubt in my mind that people have agency, and that we have the final say in what we think, what we do, or how we behave. Power to choose is a fundamental doctrine of the Church. So I’m left to conclude that either (1) or (2) is false. Either we must give a broader definition for science, or we must conclude that psychology is not a true science.

Either option is fine with me; I think a Latter-day Saint could comfortably say either one. Perhaps they might say that science is not restricted to mechanistic causation. I’m a novice when it comes to philosophy of science, but I would be fascinated to hear other proposed definitions. Or perhaps a Latter-day Saint might say that psychology is a worthwhile but non-scientific endeavor. That’s fine. As Orson Scott Card says, “There are lots of subjects in this world that are worth studying, and in which true and valuable things can be discovered, which are not and cannot be science.”⁴ Some examples that occur to me are law, history, and economics.

My only fear is that people will try to hold all three ideas in their head, and when that becomes impossible, they will jettison agency because the other two ideas are so strongly repeated in so many venues of thought.

Conclusion

Commenters are welcome to post their resolutions to this trilemma. I would be very curious to hear how Orson Scott Card resolves it. For all I know, he agrees with this explanation and believes that psychology is not a science. If that is not what he believes, I’d be very interested in hearing how he resolves this conundrum in his own mind, or whether there is some logical gap that I have missed in my explanation that renders this not truly a trilemma.

But really I’m not concerned with which proposition, (1) or (2), people abandon, only that they understand that, as I see it, they must abandon one of them in order to maintain a belief in (3), the true doctrine of agency.

Notes

1. “Top Questions, Center for Science and Culture, discovery.org, accessed 11 Mar. 2010.

4. Orson Scott Card, “Creation and Evolution in the Schools,” WorldWatch column (The Rhinoceros Times: Greensboro, NC), 8 Jan. 2006, accessed on ornery.org on 11 Mar. 2010.

Nathan Richardson

King Benjamin actually did not say the Lord always requires us to give to beggars regardless of the circumstances.

Several possible rebuttals could be made against the “Always give” view. For one thing, there is the pragmatic argument. It would only take so many beggars before a person was drained of money and became a beggar herself.

Then there’s the logical argument. A person who holds to the “Always give” view must first define who qualifies as a beggar, but must do so without judging someone’s circumstances or motives. If you define it as “someone who has genuine need that they can’t provide themselves,” then the only way to identify those who qualify as a beggars is to make judgments about their needs and their abilities. If you define it as “someone who claims they have a genuine need that they can’t provide themselves,” then I could insist that you give me money. I really do need it. I promise. My family is in great need. If you draw attention to the fact that I’m employed, I could still insist that we are in dire need, with extenuating circumstances that you are unaware of, and make you feel guilty for judging my situation. (Of course, neither the pragmatic nor the logical argument invalidates the “Always give” view; they just make it a very difficult view to actually live.)

Then there’s the scriptural argument. Many passages of scripture can be found that clearly place conditions on helping the poor. For example, fourteen times in the following passage, Paul lists conditions for whether and how to give to the poor—conditions that clearly require some kind of judgment on our part.

³Honour widows that are widows indeed. ⁴But if any widow have children or nephews, let them learn first to shew piety at home, and to requite their parents: for that is good and acceptable before God. ⁵Now she that is a widow indeed, and desolate, trusteth in God, and continueth in supplications and prayers night and day. ⁶But she that liveth in pleasure is dead while she liveth. …

⁹Let not a widow be taken into the number under threescore years old, having been the wife of one man, ¹⁰Well reported of for good works; if she have brought up children, if she have lodged strangers, if she have washed the saints’ feet, if she have relieved the afflicted, if she have diligently followed every good work.

¹¹But the younger widows refuse: … ¹⁶If any man or woman that believeth have widows [i.e., if the widows have family], let them relieve them, and let not the church be charged; that it may relieve them that are widows indeed. (1 Tim. 5:3–6, 9–11, 16)¹

If one prophet taught we must always give money to the poor, why would other prophets allow this sign to stand just outside the temple?

Finally, there is the authority argument. Outside Temple Square in Salt Lake City, one block from the First Presidency’s offices, you can often see signs that say something like, “Visitors are encouraged to not give money to panhandlers.” If the prophet and president of the Church feels that, in at least some circumstances, it is appropriate to not give to a beggar, then I balk at the idea of implying he is at odds with King Benjamin.

The problem with solely making these kind of rebuttals, though, is that they either pit King Benjamin’s words against worldly reasoning (which is sometimes right, sometimes wrong) or against other prophets’ words. With the first possibility, of course the prophet wins out; sometimes we’re asked to follow prophets even when faced with apparently sensible reasons not to. But in this case, it’s an unnecessary tension. With the second possibility, we place ourselves in danger of pitting one prophet against another. Some might reflexively resolve it by citing Ezra Taft Benson’s true teaching, “Beware of those who would set up the dead prophets against the living prophets, for the living prophets always take precedence.”² But this kind of trump card shouldn’t be played cavalierly, especially in the ambiguous territory of uncanonized, practical, timely instructions. I believe this response assumes a contradiction that isn’t really there; again, the tension is unnecessary in this case.

As in the vast majority of apparent disagreements between prophets or presidents of the Church, the resolution lies in examining their words more closely and realizing that they aren’t actually disagreeing. Such is the case with King Benjamin. I don’t believe he contradicts Paul, or any other prophet, at all. There are at least two reasons to conclude that King Benjamin is not teaching the “Always give” view, which is the view that we should always give money to a beggar when asked, regardless of his circumstances.

The Problems of Money

Why does Benjamin say we should give our “substance,” rather than our money?

One of the problems with the “Always give” view is the complications that arise with money. In a moneyless society, if you give a person a loaf of bread, you have provided her with the means to eat a loaf of bread. There’s really no negative outcome possible. In a … moneyful … society (what the heck is the opposite of moneyless? ), if you give a person $3.75, you have provided her with the means to eat a loaf of bread—or drink some juice, or ride on the bus, or get some cigarettes, or drink some alcohol, etc. There are several negative outcomes possible. Therefore, it’s conceivable that the giver now has to consider his partial accountability for what is done with his gift.

It’s interesting to note that King Benjamin never uses the word money, even though Nephites did have some form of money.³ Instead, he uses a different word when saying what we should give:

¹⁶Ye yourselves will succor those that stand in need of your succor; ye will administer of your substance unto him that standeth in need. … ¹⁷Perhaps thou shalt say: … I will stay my hand, and will not give unto him of my food, nor impart unto him of my substance. …
²¹How ye ought to impart of the substance that ye have one to another.
²²And if ye judge the man who putteth up his petition to you for your substance … ²³Wo be unto that man, for his substance shall perish with him. …
²⁶Ye should impart of your substance to the poor, every man according to that which he hath, such as feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick.

By “substance,” he seems to have meant all material possessions: food, clothes, medicine, blankets, etc. Granted you could make the case that he also meant money to be included in “substance”,⁴ but I think he likely meant usable necessities because his list of suggested donations does not include money: “Ye should impart of your substance to the poor, … such as feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and administering to their relief, both spiritually and temporally” (v. 26).

There are a few reasons he may have emphasized material goods (substance) over a standard unit of exchange (money). For one thing, it’s more personable, having to get to know someone well enough to assess what exactly they need. For another thing, it avoids the problem of helping someone hurt himself. If you give him something that can’t be easily exchanged for drugs or alcohol (unlike money), you can be pretty sure that you’re not enabling an addiction.⁵

A standard unit of exchange certainly exacerbates the potential for misuse. But consider a beggar in a moneyless society. While the problem of drugs and alcohol is eliminated or diminished, other potential problems still exist: promoting learned helplessness, dependency, or laziness. Even if the money problem were gone—even if Benjamin were speaking to ancient aborigines or Kalahari bushmen—would he still insist that we always give food, clothing, or other types of support to any and every mendicant?

Even if money were not a factor, it is clear that King Benjamin’s words could still not be construed to support indiscriminate, unconditional giving.

Judgments about True Needs

Many readers of this passage conclude that we must not make any judgments about people’s circumstances or motives, perhaps because King Benjamin says, “If ye judge the man who putteth up his petition to you for your substance that he perish not, and condemn him, how much more just will be your condemnation for withholding your substance” (v. 22). Notice, though, that King Benjamin does not necessarily forbid judging. The action that we are told to beware is “if ye judge the man … and condemn him.” While we often need to make judgments, we should completely refrain from condemning. Elder Dallin H. Oaks explains,

There are two kinds of judging: final judgments, which we are forbidden to make, and intermediate judgments, which we are directed to make, but upon righteous principles. … In [some] context[s] the word condemn apparently refers to the final judgment.⁶

In particular, King Benjamin seems to especially dislike the assumption that a person’s suffering is resulting from his sins or economic foolishness (v. 17). Like the Lord’s climactic speech in the book of Job, this assumption is what Benjamin cannot tolerate. However, this kind of condemning is only one form of judging; ruling out condemnation does not rule out judging all together.

Not only does King Benjamin allow judging, but he implicitly requires it at several points. In verses 19–22, he draws an analogy between beggars and mortals, saying that in a sense, all mortals are beggars because we depend on the good will of the Lord to rescue us from our painful, sinful situation. Using the conventional notation for analogies, we could say, “Rich men are to beggars as God is to mortals”:

Then Benjamin explains why this is an illuminating comparison. Just as a beggar petitions a rich man and asks for things, mortals petition God and ask for things. He gives an example, too. When mortals ask for forgiveness of sin (something we absolutely need from Him), God grants it graciously; when beggars ask for life’s necessities (when they absolutely need them from us), we should grant it graciously. God grants forgiveness to mortals in part because they cannot overcome sin on their own; a rich man should give necessities to beggars when they cannot obtain them on their own. In other words, we should answer the beggar’s petition as God answers mortals’ prayers.

As with all analogies, this one has obvious limitations. God is the source of everything he gives us; the rich man is a mere waypoint on the path that conveys a blessing from God to a beggar. The relationship between mortals and God is qualitatively different than that between beggars and rich men. The former is that of servant and master, while the latter is that of peers who happen to be in different situations for the moment. So our giving can never be entirely like God’s giving. A steward can’t really transfer ownership of something he’s never owned; he can only redirect the property under his care. Such is our true situation when giving the wealth that is in our hands.

However, as Benjamin’s analogy implies, there is at least one aspect of God’s giving that we are supposed to notice and emulate, and this is typified when the prophet compares our answering the beggar’s petition (panhandling) to God’s answering mortals’ petitions (prayers).

But how does God give to mortals? Indiscriminately, giving them any and everything they ask for? No, he gives us whatever will help us most, even if it’s not necessarily what we want or think we need. Benjamin points out this fact, describing God’s criteria when answering petitions: “God … doth grant unto you whatsoever ye ask that is right, in faith, believing that ye shall receive” (v. 21). Benjamin never says give whatever is asked; he says give to beggars as God gives to mortals, and God does not give whatever mortals ask for. If we truly intend to give to beggars as God gives to mortals, we must give “whatsoever [they] ask that is right.”

This obviously entails making judgment calls—evaluating the situation and trying to discern whether, what, and how much to give. This might seem like a surprising message, but it’s clear that, while warning against harsh assumptions about how the beggar got into his situation, Benjamin requires that we use discernment in getting him out of it (or helping him get himself out of it). I count nine conditional phrases or restrictive clauses that necessitate some kind of judgment on the giver’s part:

¹⁶And also, ye yourselves will succor those that stand in need of your succor; ye will administer of your substance unto him that standeth in need; and ye will not suffer that the beggar putteth up his petition to you in vain, and turn him out to perish. ¹⁷Perhaps thou shalt say: … I … will not … impart unto him of my substance that he may not suffer. …
²¹If God … doth grant unto you whatsoever ye ask that is right, … how ye ought to impart of the substance that ye have one to another. ²²And if ye judge the man who putteth up his petition to you for your substance that he perish not, and condemn him, how much more just will be your condemnation. …
²⁶I would that ye should impart of your substance to the poor … according to their wants. ²⁷And see that all these things are done in wisdom and order; for it is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength. … Therefore, all things must be done in order. (v. 16–17, 21–22, 26–27)

These conditions might lead someone to give material goods instead of money, or to require work in exchange for the gift, or refrain from giving at all. Every situation is different, and the Spirit will help individuals discern what they should do from moment to moment that will most help, especially if they have not harshly decided that each petitioner deserves what he has. Benjamin doesn’t say no beggar deserves his situation; he says that whether the beggar deserves it is immaterial to my response. After all, I don’t deserve forgiveness for my sins, but that doesn’t prevent Heavenly Father from graciously granting it.

Conclusion

Please don’t think me a grinch. I am not arguing for the “Never give” view; I am arguing against the “Always give” view (because both views can be harmful). By highlighting King Benjamin’s analogy and the implicit and explicit caveats he puts on giving, I hope I have clarified his intentions. When taken as a whole and in context, King Benjamin does not say that we are required to always give money to beggars, regardless of the circumstances. Instead, he teaches that, like our Father in Heaven, we should do whatever will help the petitioner most.

This, of course, implies that we must use good judgment,⁷ which is much more difficult than adhering to a one-size-fits-all rule. It requires that we listen to the Spirit, live worthy of it, apply wise counsel, and follow the Brethren’s example as best we can. I want people to feel free to follow the Spirit’s counsel, which is tailored to each situation and which may impel different responses at different times. It is very difficult to do so when we labor under the mistaken notion that we have been commanded to always give money to a beggar and to never use discernment to judge a situation or choose the best response. This mistaken notion can be especially taxing on our conscience when the situation is one where it is painfully clear that the beggar will misuse the money to hurt himself.

For all these reasons, it saddens me when I hear someone say in Sunday school, “Well, even when I totally know they’re going to buy drugs, I still give them the money, because that’s what we’ve been commanded to do.” I hope this examination of King Benjamin’s rhetoric will help eliminate that mistaken idea and clarify his message to Latter-day Saints. May this come in handy the next time Mosiah 4 comes up in your Sunday school class.

Notes

Image credit: King Benjamin’s Address, by Jeremy Winborg.

Nathan Richardson

Did King Benjamin say that we must always give money to beggars regardless of the circumstances?

Most members of the Church have been involved, at one point or another, in a group discussion about giving to panhandlers—beggars who approach strangers and ask them for money. These discussions often happen in Sunday school every four years when we reach Mosiah 4:16–27, in which King Benjamin asks, “Are we not all beggars?” They also happen in the comment section following online newspaper articles about widespread panhandling in prevalently LDS areas, such as in the Deseret News or the Salt Lake Tribune.

There are a variety of views about what to do when approached by a beggar asking for money. While trying to not oversimplify, we could put these views on a continuum. On one extreme is the view that “you should never give money to a beggar. It enables laziness and learned helplessness. He’ll probably use it on drugs or alcohol. He’d be better off with opportunities to provide for himself.” On the other extreme is the view that “you should always give money to a beggar. While there are con-artists and people who abuse others’ charity out there, you don’t know which is which, and it’s not your place to judge. So the Lord requires you to always give money when asked, no matter what the situation.” (This is assuming, of course, that you have money, and that you are not endangering yourself, such as opening your wallet in a dark alley.)

These two views can be summarized as “Never give” and “Always give.” Perusing the comments section of this Deseret News article and this Salt Lake Tribune article will demonstrate not only these two extreme opinions, but a wider spectrum of in-between views that I believe reflect most people’s conflicted feelings (e.g., It depends on the situation; Have them work for the money; Give food instead of money; Give to organized charities instead). This large middle area can be summarized as “Sometimes give,” wherein each view implicitly involves some kind of criteria for knowing which situations qualify as a time to give and which do not.

My view falls in the “Sometimes give” area. I want to be clear from the outset, lest people suspect my motives, that I am for helping the poor. (I’m not going to detail how I’ve done that in the past; people shouldn’t have to give a charity résumé before they’re allowed to talk on the subject. ) Like many people, I could describe various criteria, requirements, or caveats to use when deciding how to respond to a panhandler. I love these kinds of discussions, and I’m all ears when someone has stories, examples, or principles to share, because they help me choose my response more wisely.

While many have written plenty of insightful remarks on how to make that decision, I will not be discussing that. I want to limit my remarks to one specific idea: the misuse of King Benjamin’s words to support the “Always give” view.

Always Give

I have heard, more than once, a person express the very extreme view that the restored gospel requires us to always give money to a beggar when asked, regardless of the circumstances. One commenter insists that we must not ascertain motives at all:

I don’t think it’s up to us to judge people’s motivation[. The] only person who can judge that is God. If your motivation for giving is pure, regardless of what the person does with the money, you have done what you are suppose to do and hence have been pleasing to God. Let God be the judge of the beggar taking advantage of good natured people.¹

Another person says that the source of this idea is King Benjamin:

Phil Pugsley, who is LDS, says he often feels ambivalent when he comes across a panhandler. For guidance, the retired lawyer turns to his scriptures, particularly a sermon by King Benjamin recorded in The Book of Mormon. “When we see people who ask us for help, we are not supposed to look into their motives,” says Pugsley. … He dropped $1 into Donald’s plastic mug.²

Another writer insists that King Benjamin clearly teaches that, as long as we have the money, we must give it when requested:

Ever since I first read the fourth chapter of Mosiah, I have always tried to give money to anybody asking for it. … King Benjamin’s message … seems very clear to me: we are expected to give to the poor personally. We are expected not to judge their circumstances but simply to give if asked. …

It seems to me, a clear understanding of the scriptures would indicate that if I am walking along 5th Avenue in New York and a panhandler asks me for some money, I am expected to give him some change. … Whether he uses that money wisely is his problem, not mine. My responsibility is to give to those who ask.⁴

In every case, the pattern seems to be that (1) we must not attempt to draw conclusions, even reasonable ones, about the person’s needs or intentions regarding the money, and that (2) if we have money, we are always morally obliged to give it.⁴ In other words, on the spectrum of possible responses above, in situations where the giver has money and could safely give it, the only option for a covenant-keeping believer in the restored gospel is to give the money to the asker. To do less would be to reject the Savior’s teachings.

Both of these ideas are almost always attributed to King Benjamin’s sermon in Mosiah 4. I share these examples to demonstrate that this idea is alive and well, lest anyone accuse me of attacking a strawman.

Conclusion

I do not object if someone wants to hold themselves to a standard of always giving money whenever they are asked. They’re welcome to do that. What I do wince at is their citation of King Benjamin as teaching this idea, and their insistence that it is a standard that God holds all his people to. Neither is true.

Sometimes in discussions where King Benjamin is cited to support the “Always give” view, people rebut by quoting other scriptures or pointing out logical or practical problems with always giving. This is unfortunate, because it seems to pit one prophet against another, or a prophet’s words against man’s wisdom. This can make the “Sometimes give” view seem either contentious or unfaithful. It’s completely unnecessary, though, because the “Always give” view can be dealt with just by looking at King Benjamin’s words themselves.

King Benjamin was definitely critical of the “Never give” view, and he gave stern warnings to people who treated the poor … well, poorly. But if you read his words carefully, it becomes apparent that he did not teach the “Always give” view either. To follow his prophetic counsel well, we have to first understand what he taught. I will try to clarify some of that in my next post.

Notes

Image credit: King Benjamin Addresses His People, by Gary L Kapp.

4. Granted, the Millennial Star article specifies conditions that are “within reason”: that the giver actually have money on him, and that he not be endangering himself by giving it, such as in opening his wallet in a dark alley. But all of his conditions have to do with judging the giver’s circumstances; he forbids judging the asker’s circumstances. Thus, I feel that his view is an accurate example of the “Always give” view.

Today, we would simply like to post a video published by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and to wish everyone a happy Thanksgiving!