This is the fourth post in our series on moral codes as class features in Pathfinder. Click here to start with the introductory post.

There is a sense in which codes of conduct for clerics are reasonably straightforward. Since there are clerics of every alignment (within one step of their deity’s alignment), it really comes down to following the strictures of their particular religion, i.e. obeying their gods, following those gods’ commands and guidelines, forwarding their agendas, etc. Beyond this, there is no single straightforward code of conduct for clerics – even gods of the same alignment have different concerns, and what might be a gross violation of one CG god’s code of conduct might go right under the radar of another CG god. So the particular details of cleric codes of conduct are really questions of theology and in-game lore regarding the will of the gods more than they are questions of ethics, and are best left up to individuals GMs and tables.

That being said, part of what it is to be morally good (whether god, outsider, or mortal) is to embrace a certain view (or limited range of views) about moral epistemology, so I think that there are things that we can say that apply to the codes of conduct for clerics of all the goodly gods, regardless of their differences. The same is also true for clerics of the evil gods, but since they will have a very different kind of moral epistemology, I’ll discuss them in another post.

Regardless of alignment, though, all the interesting questions about Pathfinder clerics and their codes of conduct come about not when clerics obviously act in accordance with the dictates of their gods but when they disagree. So my discussions about clerics and their moral codes will specifically address how clerics might possibly disagree with their gods (or at least not act strictly in accordance with them), and how their gods might react.

At first, it might seem strange to talk about disagreement between clerics and their gods – after all, wouldn’t any cleric worthy of the name always agree with her god and just do as he says? Why bother being a cleric of Torag if you’re not going to go along with Torag?

The issue, of course, is that neither Torag himself nor his mortal priesthood have perfect moral knowledge (i.e., they don’t necessarily know exactly what’s right or wrong in every circumstance…and since the gods of Pathfinder are neither omniscient nor the source of morality themselves, this does indeed apply to Torag as well). Furthermore, his clerics lack not only perfect moral knowledge but also perfect knowledge of Torag’s specific wishes. Even tremendously devout clerics don’t have much in the way of a clear dialogue with their gods, let alone some kind of direct telepathic link making them constantly aware of every divine whim and desire. Instead, they have the same resources and problems priests everywhere have always had: a finite set of scriptures and sacred texts, a doctrinal tradition upon which to draw, the occasional vague and indeterminate sign of divine favour/disfavour (if you’re very lucky, that is), and a whole lot of interpreting to do.

Given all of the above, and the imperfect epistemology of mortals both real and fantastic, inadvertent disagreements between Torag and his clerics are bound to occur. The real question, then, is not whether they will happen but how the fact of priestly disagreement is to be addressed both by Torag and by his clerics.

To answer this question, we should remind ourselves again that Torag and the other goodly gods, as a part of what it means to be good, should have a shared principle of moral epistemology: pluralist humility.* Briefly put, and among other things, pluralist humility amounts to consciously and honestly accepting both 1) the possibility that we may be wrong and 2) the possibility that others with whom we disagree may be right. It is through approaching our beliefs and behaviours in the spirit of pluralist humility that we mortals (be we humans on Earth or dwarven clerics of Torag on Golarion) can be more right (in the moral sense) more often. And since we can safely assume that, whatever else they might be, the good gods of Golarion are morally good, they recognize the value of pluralist humility and judge their followers accordingly.

So maybe Torag actually wouldn’t have preferred that you lie to the townsfolk in order to save the life of an orc child orphaned in a recent raid. Before he goes ahead and punishes you for it, though, removing your clericly class features and embarrassing you before the congregation, he will first look to your motives and methods. If he finds that you behaved rashly and self-righteously, confident in your understanding of Torag’s will and derisive of any who would dare to disagree with you, the wise local priest of Torag…well, he might well see the value in taking you down a peg. But if you acted in the spirit of pluralist humility, considering the perspectives of others and opinions other than your own, doing your best to come to the correct Toragite decision while accepting the possibility that you are mistaken…well, LG Torag is rather likely to show some leniency. He might still send some kind of sign of his disagreement, but it would almost certainly be rather mild, the kind of divine sign better taken as a honest communication than as chastisement.

There’s another interesting dimension here, in that pluralist humility is such a core epistemic value of those who are genuinely morally righteous that it presumably applies in non-moral religious contexts as well.

For instance, say your cleric of Torag is trying out some new magical smithing method for making armour. As it turns out, Torag disapproves, because it’s actually just a cheap shortcut for making armour of a lower quality, and thus goes against his values. But since he endorses pluralist humility, he again takes into consideration the spirit of your actions: if you are actually just looking for a shortcut around the Toragite priest’s arduous yet sacred work of crafting armour, and aren’t really concerned with the wider impact of your actions or other perspectives, then this will likely displease Torag greatly, and I imagine that he would manifest that displeasure rather clearly. On the other hand, if you’re genuinely interested in better ways to make armour and are trying this out in the spirit of pluralist humility (i.e., “new and different ideas have value in themselves, but I could be wrong about how this new method goes”), then you wouldn’t pursue this method beyond the point when it becomes clear that it’s a dead end, and Torag would never fault you for making an honest effort in the first place.

Of course, as I said above, all the real details of the codes of conduct for clerics are going to come down to the specific doctrines and demesnes of the particular gods in question. But since good gods should at least have a broadly shared interest in being good and acting accordingly (basically by definition), then we should be able to discuss a few equally broad values they presumably share, as I’ve done above.

This inevitably leads to the question of whether the same can be said of the evil gods and their clerics…and as you’ll see in my next post, the answer to that question might be rather more complicated.

*I’ve spent years building up a theoretical structure for and defense of pluralist humility as the core of good moral epistemology – it was the upshot of my dissertation. As such, it involves far too broad a set of arguments and ideas to go into here in any detail. That being said, if you want a quick idea of how pluralist humility should shape our moral intuitions and epistemology, you can check out my TEDx talk about it.