Can technologies of behavior solve the problem of evil?
In B.F. Skinner’s 1971 book Beyond Freedom and Dignity he urges scientists to develop a “technology of behavior.” By this he meant a scientific knowledge and practical framework for altering human behaviors—especially pathological or harmful ones. Skinner had a vision for a world in which punitive measures would be rendered obsolete. Criminal behavior would be eradicated simply by shaping environments. His vision continues today, though often in combination with altering biological states. Where Skinner was strictly concerned with manipulating the environment, modern scientists say that altering the chemistry in the brain matters also. These ever growing “technologies” are useful in assisting people to live better lives and are by-in-large a net-positive for the world.
However, Skinner (and indeed many modern thinkers still) did not merely regard these as tools for improvement. Rather, he saw them as methods for ushering in a human salvation; mechanisms for structuring a utopian earth. This was the final frontier in abolishing the presence of evil.
He’s not alone in his mission to harness psychological tools in order to capture and ultimately subdue the phenomena of evil. Many psychologists have endeavored to do the same, relying on the resources of all good science: operationalization, observation, measurement and repetition. This means that a psychological definition of evil is inevitably limited to that which can be pinned down and cornered by the human senses. Most often this is accomplished by reducing evil to a set of circumstantial conditions. One might argue “Adam and Eve wouldn’t have eaten of the fruit had they not been neurologically predisposed to sin and prompted by their environment to behave accordingly.” Perhaps it’s true that evil emerges from a set of preconditions. Perhaps Adam and Eve possessed a moral fragility that the devil merely exploited. But even if evil is a disorder emergent from conditions, humans are nonetheless entirely infected. We are each born with said predisposition into environments which inevitably exploit it. In other words, we are all born into sin. But I’m concerned that such a conditional taxonomy of evil ultimately falls flat. After all, it relies on the notion that evil itself exists solely in the preponderance of conditioned behavior. Thus, if we can alter the conditions which precede behaviors, we can abolish evil entirely.
To explain the problem with this logic I will borrow a metaphor that Arthur Brooks often uses in his descriptions of happiness: The smell of food is not itself dinner, but the evidence of dinner. It seems to me that theologically, evil behavior is not itself the source of evil, but the evidence. Where evil actually dwells is within the human heart. Thus, even if we were to force one into a “noble” life in terms of behavior, it would not rid them of the disease of the heart. This was a repeated message throughout the gospels. The Pharisees believed that strict adherence to the law (good behavior) was sufficient for salvation. But behaving well didn’t do anything to change their hearts.
This also brings up a misunderstanding that I often notice in discourse surrounding the life of Jesus. Some presume that Christ’s perfection hinged on his ability to perfectly execute the law. Of course, he did do that. But to deem this the source of his perfection is to reduce Christ’s perfectness to mere behavioral procedure. It’s to say “Christ was perfect because he was well-behaved.” Of course, by the standards of the culture and time in which he lived, nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, Jesus frequently defied legalistic interpretations of the law or human traditions that had distorted its original intent. In the culture he existed in, He embodied bad behavior—and was crucified for it. But, the law points to him. It submits to him. He demonstrates his authority over it. He fulfills it, and thus is not bound to it, but rather, it is bound to him. Thus, Jesus’ goodness and perfection was not merely behavioral, nor procedural: it was inherent. He was the fulfillment of the law—not merely behaviorally, but in its intent and entirety.
We are by nature, within our hearts, bound to sin. Bound to evil. The law cannot undo this. We are liberated by Christ, not so that we may sin, but that we may transgress our former nature, be renewed in our minds, and be made right with him to live in obedience.
Skinner—and indeed many others intending to banish evil by virtue of behavioral alteration—inadvertently demonstrates a somewhat pharisaical attitude towards human behavior in two ways. First, because he seeks, by way of scientific inquiry, to extinguish an evil that he himself (like all humanity) is possessed by. Second, he is persuaded by the notion that evil disappears by virtue of works. That if we extinguish the actions of evil, it has no existence period—thus utterly ignoring the conditions of the human heart. Of course, Skinner would take issue with such a notion because the heart would seem entirely lacking in objectivity from his vantage point. This is a fair critique from a scientific perspective, but I am arguing that evil transcends scientific knowledge.
However, I find it important to clarify once again that we ought not treat the limitations on technologies of behavior as overall indictments on their use or existence. Indeed, there are many harmful and distressing behavioral disorders which can be treated by virtue of these technologies, and this is a good thing. The problem is not that such technologies are bad, but incomplete in and of themselves.
Ultimately productive and adaptive behaviors are better than destructive and maladaptive ones. This is a good scientific goal to pursue. But good behavior is not a map to salvation.