"Moral relativism" has become a way of cursing.
And what is moral relativism? It is the assertion that what is moral is not universally agreed upon; that what is considered moral here is not necessarily moral there.
If that surprises you, you have never looked around. Morals have never been universal. Never! Ever! Even in the most homogenous, most demanding and repressive societies, there are objectors.
What is the alternative to moral relativism? It is the claim that there exists, somewhere, an absolute morality. If there is such a code, or ethic, or morality--anywhere--people have never agreed what it is. Never! Ever!
What is almost universal is the belief that our own value system is absolutely right. Most of us--here--are aghast at female genital mutilation, and infanticide, and totalitarianism, unless (of course) the totalitarianism is ethical totalitarianism: an absolute ethic: our own ethic.
There are lots of ways to claim to know what is absolutely good and right. "Well, just look around!" is one of them. "Look at nature! So look at it! Is there a natural law? Is nature red in tooth and claw, or is it an Eden where the lions lie down with the lambs? Do the geese in your nature mate for life, or do the polar bears and guppies eat their young?
Other people believe they can think their way logically and philosophically to some kind of universal good. Have you ever read one of those books? Do you still have cramps?
The easiest way to be absolutely right is to do what Moses did, and to climb a mountain in the Sinai, or as Joseph Smith did, climb a hill in Palmyra, New York, and tell the rest of us that God agrees with you, or that you agree with God. Almost any god or hill will do. Burning bushes help! Hearing voices is good. Even seizures might work.
Why do we yearn for absolute ethics and values? Because there aren't any! We don't agree. We dispute. And life without knowing what to expect from each other is nearly impossible. It is always anxious, often dangerous, and sometimes lethal.
We want to know what to expect from each other, because sometimes we have to turn our backs. You don't have to love me, but you ought not to be forever dangerous, either. We want to know what to expect.
So we negotiate. We agree not to steal from each other, and probably even to help, to watch each other's kids, and to fill in. We fashion habits, and formal codes, and constitutions, but all of them are negotiated, or inherited from earlier negotiators. Sometimes we say they are self-evident truths, but they are really just the best we can do. And some, we agree, will be very short-term.
All of them are relative. They are the way we reach for something better, for something together.
Ethical relativity is not a curse. It is rational. It is a recognition that being moral is hard work. It is, almost always, the best we can do, and that is a good thing.
That is why we talk. It is in conversation that we come to agree on what is best.
And what is moral relativism? It is the assertion that what is moral is not universally agreed upon; that what is considered moral here is not necessarily moral there.
If that surprises you, you have never looked around. Morals have never been universal. Never! Ever! Even in the most homogenous, most demanding and repressive societies, there are objectors.
What is the alternative to moral relativism? It is the claim that there exists, somewhere, an absolute morality. If there is such a code, or ethic, or morality--anywhere--people have never agreed what it is. Never! Ever!
What is almost universal is the belief that our own value system is absolutely right. Most of us--here--are aghast at female genital mutilation, and infanticide, and totalitarianism, unless (of course) the totalitarianism is ethical totalitarianism: an absolute ethic: our own ethic.
There are lots of ways to claim to know what is absolutely good and right. "Well, just look around!" is one of them. "Look at nature! So look at it! Is there a natural law? Is nature red in tooth and claw, or is it an Eden where the lions lie down with the lambs? Do the geese in your nature mate for life, or do the polar bears and guppies eat their young?
Other people believe they can think their way logically and philosophically to some kind of universal good. Have you ever read one of those books? Do you still have cramps?
The easiest way to be absolutely right is to do what Moses did, and to climb a mountain in the Sinai, or as Joseph Smith did, climb a hill in Palmyra, New York, and tell the rest of us that God agrees with you, or that you agree with God. Almost any god or hill will do. Burning bushes help! Hearing voices is good. Even seizures might work.
Why do we yearn for absolute ethics and values? Because there aren't any! We don't agree. We dispute. And life without knowing what to expect from each other is nearly impossible. It is always anxious, often dangerous, and sometimes lethal.
We want to know what to expect from each other, because sometimes we have to turn our backs. You don't have to love me, but you ought not to be forever dangerous, either. We want to know what to expect.
So we negotiate. We agree not to steal from each other, and probably even to help, to watch each other's kids, and to fill in. We fashion habits, and formal codes, and constitutions, but all of them are negotiated, or inherited from earlier negotiators. Sometimes we say they are self-evident truths, but they are really just the best we can do. And some, we agree, will be very short-term.
All of them are relative. They are the way we reach for something better, for something together.
Ethical relativity is not a curse. It is rational. It is a recognition that being moral is hard work. It is, almost always, the best we can do, and that is a good thing.
That is why we talk. It is in conversation that we come to agree on what is best.
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