Welcome to the fourth installment of act three of author Ted Scofield’s series on everybody else’s biggest problem but your own. If you missed one or more of the previous installments, the entire series can be found here.
In Terminator 2, Arnold Schwarzenegger’s titular cyborg is about to kill two innocent civilians in a dark parking lot, when young John Connor intervenes.
“You can’t just go around killing people!” John says to his protector.
“Why?” the terminator responds in his oft-imitated monotone.
“Whattaya mean, why? ’Cause you can’t!”
“Why?”
“You just can’t, okay? Trust me on this.”
We are on a year-long quest to find a collectively applicable definition of greed. In Act III, we’ve identified three modern phenomena and debated their implications: the ascension of narcissistic individualism, the increase in religious “nones” and, via the build-a-god mentality and with a philosophical boost from Ayn Rand, the apotheosis of “I.”
Today we’ll look at a logical and unavoidable by-product of these phenomena, moral relativism, or perhaps, to avoid some of the baggage that accompanies that politically loaded term, let’s call it moral subjectivity. Regardless of the verbiage, I’m referring to the rejection of objective standards of right and wrong that transcend time and place, or what we might call moral absolutes.
A few hopeful commentators have recently suggested that moral subjectivity is on the wane, in articles with titles like “Moral Relativism, R.I.P.” They argue that it’s dead because the flyover politicians who overuse it as a punching bag are not only easy targets, but their constituents do not read their work. They are not the hopefuls’ customers. Moreover, they note how social media shaming appears to be premised on a new code of moral absolutes. State an opinion that contradicts the morals-du-jour and then sit back and absorb the “unmerciful moral crusades on social media” that result, as Jonathan Merritt wrote in The Atlantic this past March in an article titled “The Death of Moral Relativism.” But trending hate tweets are not indicia of objective standards of right and wrong. Even when “the crowd” piles on, it’s still hate. Moral subjectivity is not dead.
On the contrary, if moral subjectivity was once a guerrilla force subject to catalogs of vociferous hand-wringing, today it is the entrenched third generation dictator. Widespread acknowledgement of its existence, not to mention opposition and dissent, have largely been silenced.
As The New York Times pointed out two months ago, “There are no permanent standards, just the shifting judgment of the crowd.” A few weeks ago Mockingbird’s Ethan Richardson quoted a 2016 Times article that assumed we live in a “relativistic age.”
Data confirms what to me is painfully obvious. Just a few days ago, Barna released a poll of 1,237 people that the Christian Examiner deemed “shocking.” A majority of Americans, including three-quarters of millennials and nearly a third of practicing Christians, say that morality is based solely on their personal feelings. Fifty-seven percent of all respondents agreed that “whatever is right for your life or works best for you is the only truth you can know,” while 74% of millennials and 31% of practicing Christians affirmed the belief. Sixty-five percent agreed that “every culture must determine what is acceptable morality for its people,” including 70% of millennials and 47% of practicing Christians.
Indeed, our 21st century culture breathes in subjectivity; our self-centered worldview requires it; it is our oxygen. And, just like oxygen, in high concentrations it can be toxic, even fatal.
James Cameron, author of the T2 screenplay and self-identified atheist, explains the rationale for John Connor’s feeble response to the terminator: “I think everybody invents their own moral code for themselves, and it usually happens in your teens based on what you’ve been taught, what you’ve seen in the world, what you’ve read, and your own inherent makeup.”
Ayn Rand shared a similar opinion in 1957:
I would say that man’s only moral commandment is: Thou shalt think. But a ‘moral commandment’ is a contradiction in terms. The moral is the chosen, not the forced; the understood, not the obeyed. The moral is the rational, and reason accepts no commandments. My morality, the morality of reason, is contained in a single axiom: existence exists–and in a single choice: to live.
Like our build-a-god personal spirituality, in a world of moral subjectivity, there is no greater arbiter of righteousness than the self. It is up to us to invent–or choose–our own morality. Renowned philosopher and atheist Richard Rorty described our culture as one that embraces “the refusal to believe in the existence of Truth … something which has authority over human beings.” In other words, we both build and calibrate our own moral compass.
Our personal perception of greed is no exception. “As a concept greed has largely lost its moral sting,” author Julian Edney wrote in Greed. “Greed is neither good nor bad,” we read in Crain’s in October 2015. Actually, “greed is good,” goes the ’80s mantra. Morality is not absolute. I decide for myself what is right and wrong for me.
If we subscribe to this worldview, what will we inevitably select from the all-you-can-eat morality buffet? Odds are, we will consume what suits our needs today, at this moment, under our current circumstances. And when the situation changes, when we need a new compass to point our lives in the desired direction, no problem. Like our diets, we are free to adopt a new moral regime as circumstances demand. As Dana Carvey’s Church Lady would say, “How convenient.”
So, what if I, as a Darwinian animal living on this godless blue marble circling an insignificant star, decide that following our unexceptional nation’s laws inhibit my personal growth and survival? Surely I am able–perhaps even obligated–to concoct a new ethic that promotes my flourishing. Trade stocks on inside information. Rob a grocery store for food. Murder a rival for a mate.
I’m rational. I understand there may be negative consequences associated with my actions. A chimpanzee climbing to the top of a tree for a piece of ripe fruit can fall to his death. A lion vanquishing an elder not only devours the cubs of the defeated, but also becomes a target for the young. I understand the natural world and its method of selection, and I’m willing to take my chances. The strong devour the weak, and I’m hungry.
So I call my stockbroker. I buy a gun. I’ve chosen my moral code; there are no commandments, no absolutes to get in my way. If inherited morality is merely a construct designed to control, to coerce, to oppress, then who can tell me I’m wrong? Who among us has the authority to condemn (or approve) of my actions? The cranky “crowd” with access to Twitter and Facebook? And what might give them this authority?
“When all that says ‘it is good’ has been debunked, what says ‘I want’ remains,” C.S. Lewis wrote in The Abolition of Man. And I want. I want it all. Now.
“You can’t just go around killing people,” a gentle friend may reply.
“Why?”
“You just can’t, okay? Trust me on this.”
But I don’t trust my friend, even if he has an enviable social media following. Why should I? Consciously or unconsciously, I assume he’s operating under the same worldview as I am. Where moral subjectivity thrives, trust dies.
Sure enough, as we’d expect, trust levels in the USA are comatose. First and foremost, we do not trust each other. A New York Times survey found that “only 35 percent say that most people can be trusted,” lower than responses in the 1970’s and 1980’s. Last month Pew Research revealed “just half of Americans (52%) say they trust all or most of their neighbors, while a similar share (48%) say they trust some or none of their neighbors.”
We also don’t trust the women and men we elect to lead us. In November 2015, Pew reported: “Public trust in government remains near historic lows. Only 19% of Americans today say they can trust the government in Washington to do what is right ‘just about always’ (3%) or ‘most of the time’ (16%).” Before the Vietnam War and “me generation,” the trust number was 75%. A month later, Gallup reported that 13% of Americans named “government” as “the most important problem facing the country today.” Nine percent said our economy; 7% said guns. Finally, just last month, an AP poll revealed that “78% of Americans said they are dissatisfied or angry with the federal government.” A common saying is “we get the government we deserve.” I’d suggest it’s true. If we can trade in our moral compasses to suit our specific needs, surely politicians can, and will, as well. Who are we to judge?
Nobel laureate and agnostic Mario Vargas Llosa offers an explanation for our political predicament:
The great loss of prestige in politics is doubtless related to the break-up of the spiritual order that, in the past, at least in the Western world, could curb the outbursts and excesses committed by the powerful. Since that spiritual tutelage disappeared from public life, all manner of demons have prospered that have degraded people to see politics not as something noble and altruistic, but rather as a largely dishonest activity … Is not the system now so putrid that the only response is resignation, accepting that society is, and always will be, a jungle where the wild beasts will always devour the lambs?
Llosa uses the word “putrid.” Fellow Nobel laureate Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn uses a similar word to make a similar point: “Untouched by the breath of God, unrestricted by human conscience, both capitalism and socialism are repulsive.” One might suggest our current political options confirm his lament.
As with our politicians and our government, we as a nation do not trust organized religion, the media, our judiciary, and the labor market. When asked by Pew which occupational groups contribute to our society’s well-being, only 37% of people endorsed clergy with an “a lot” vote. Journalists fared worse (28%), and lawyers were at the bottom (18%).
Given that we curate our own personal morality and don’t trust government, lawyers or our justice system in general, it should come as no surprise that we have developed an indifference to laws. According to Llosa, “a key feature of our age is an attitude of contempt or disdain for existing legal regimes alongside a moral indifference that permits citizens to flout the law as often as they can….” Perhaps with an eye on Wall Street abuses, riots and looting in Ferguson and Baltimore, and even post-victory “celebrations” on university campuses, Llosa writes “people break the law to amuse themselves, as if they were practicing a risky sport.”
Imagine, if you will, what might have transpired in 1955 if a few hundred drunken college students burned cars and hurled rocks at police officers after a championship game. Would the response have been the same as in 2016? Would the golly gee Leave It To Beaver youngsters have even considered such behavior in 1955? I doubt it. Our “spiritual order” appears to have broken down and along with it, our moral order. We harbor violent disdain for our democracy and the institutions we created to control us. In the service of our self-justification, we alchemize our own morality, which allows us to break the law as an amusement – or tolerate, if not downright alibi, those who do.
One other important cultural reality must be added to the equation, ably articulated by The New York Times in “The Gospel According to Me.”
Traditional forms of morality that required extensive social cooperation in relation to a hard reality defined by scarcity have largely collapsed and been replaced with a New Age therapeutic culture of well-being that does not require obedience or even faith – and certainly not feelings of guilt. Guilt must be shed; alienation, both of body and mind, must be eliminated, most notably through yoga practice after a long day of mind-numbing work.
What aspect of our “New Age therapeutic culture” allows us to shed our feelings of guilt? Quoting Columbia University professor Andrew Delbanco, author and theologian Tim Keller writes: “The contemporary person does not feel much guilt because ‘he no longer feels there exists something in the world that transcends himself.’”
Both the Times and Keller speak of our western culture’s self-righteous apotheosis of “I.” Whether we concoct our own build-a-god personal spirituality or simply skip the charade and deny God altogether, we place ourselves in the center of our universe. The results are predictable and our nation suffers them today. Just don’t dare disagree with me; I’ll hate-shame-tweet about you and then you’ll really be sorry!
Regardless of the despair it has wrought and some pundits’ hopeful victory dance, moral subjectivity prevails in 21st century America. Many adherents, unable to grasp the irony, adamantly assert that their enlightened worldview is absolutely correct, and unenlightened, narrow-minded dissenters deserve to be harangued for holding an antiquated belief in objective morality — yes, even an objective morality based in forgiveness and grace.
C.S. Lewis prophetically addressed the absolutely-no-absolutes absolutists in 1944.
Their scepticism about values is on the surface: it is for use on other people’s values; about the values current in their own set they are not nearly sceptical enough. And this phenomenon is very usual. A great many of those who ‘debunk’ traditional or (as they would say) ‘sentimental’ values have in the background values of their own which they believe to be immune from the debunking process.
What Lewis is saying is that many of us who knowingly or unknowingly subscribe to moral subjectivity reject the notion of objective morality in hypocritically absolute terms. Their view is absolutely right: there are no absolutes. Tim Keller frequently points out the fatal flaw in this post-modern path to psychological malaise: “To say there is no absolute truth is in fact to give a truth, absolutely.”
New York Times columnist David Brooks recently wrote:
If we’re going to avoid a constant state of anxiety, people’s identities have to be based on standards of justice and virtue that are deeper and more permanent than the shifting fancy of the crowd. In an era of omnipresent social media, it’s probably doubly important to discover and name your own personal True North, vision of an ultimate good, which is worth defending even at the cost of unpopularity and exclusion.
But what moral compass will point us to True North? What ideology or philosophy can provide reliable standards of justice and virtue, “ultimate good,” in a culture of narcissistic individualism, religious “nones” and the build-a-god apotheosis of “I”?
Remarkably, James Cameron hints at the answer. At the end of Terminator 2, after the terminator destroys the evil T-1000 and saves the lives of John Connor and his mother Sarah, the beaten and battered machine willingly sacrifices himself to save all humans.
John Connor pleads with the terminator to spare his own life.
“It’ll be okay, stay with us, it’ll be okay!” John begs.
“It has to end here” is the terminator’s solemn reply, as he is lowered into the molten steel. John cries as his protector dies.
To save humanity, James Cameron did not give his audience a fresh ideology or more inclusive worldview. He did not provide a triumphant military hero or benevolent peace-loving monarch. He did not endorse a flaccid subjectivity. The atheist who once described the Lord’s Prayer as “a tribal chant” gave us a savior, a sentient being willing to die for humanity.
Sound familiar?
COMMENTS
15 responses to “Everybody Else’s Biggest Problem: You Just Can’t, Okay?”
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The author is right, moral subjectivity is far from dead. It is now mainstream, the norm.
Just released a few days ago, a “shocking poll” reveals: A majority of Americans, including three-quarters of Millennials and nearly a third of practicing Christians, say that morality is based solely on their personal feelings, according to a new Barna survey that shows moral relativism has a firm grasp on many adults.
In the poll of 1,237 people, 57 percent agreed that “whatever is right for your life or works best for you is the only truth you can know,” while 74 percent of Millennials affirmed the statement and 31 percent of practicing Christians did so.
Similarly, 65 percent of U.S. adults agreed that “every culture must determine what is acceptable morality for its people,” while 70 percent of Millennials and 47 percent of practicing Christians backed the statement.
[ Excerpt taken from The Christian Examiner, article dated May 31, 2016 ]
Tom, thank you for that excellent data. I wish I’d seen it before I completed the piece. It’s absolutely a preposterous claim that moral relativism is dead or dying, and the poll confirms the obvious. I’d suggest strongly-held personal agendas motivate the commentators writing the obituaries.
Tom, thanks again for the head’s up on the new poll. We actually edited the piece and added the data. Yes, it is “shocking.”
I love RAC’s ‘Repeating Motion’ and hadn’t seen that video version. I’ve been keeping up with the series and know all of the closing videos have a connection to the posts. But I struggled with this one, at first, until I heard:
You can’t go on living like this
You’ve been through hell, kid, but you don’t feel that heaven exists
If this is all there is
Let’s make the most of it
In a culture of moral relativism, with no absolutes and no afterlife, “if this is all there is,” then certainly we will “make the most of it” — often at the expense of others. What do we have to lose?
Greed will dominate along with all sorts of other selfish behaviors.
Thanks for another great post!
Liza, thank you for your loyalty to the series and your comment. Yes, you found the relevant lyric. In a culture lacking moral absolutes, a hedonistic “live for today” mentality will prevail, to the detriment of all.
Ted,
Good read. Ive been reading the entire series. I am a Christian, and BELIEVE the Ten Commandments form the heart of the Law of God and moral objectivity. So, I am not a moral relativist in theory. Unfortunately, I am a moral relativist in practice. I also BELIEVE this is the problem of sin. That is, our inability to understand (and perform) the law anywhere close to how it is prescribed is the problem. Thus, as Christians, we often come across as the upholders of truth and moral objectivity in word and theory. But in practice we are no better than the world. PZ has taken up some of these epistemological problems in his podcasts, when he discusses “problems of transmission.” Even our interpretations of the Decalogue are just that, man-made theories. Sure, at least our source material is legit (not even considering the manuscript issues). But I think a heavy dose of humility is key here. That’s why I love how you end at the foot of the golgotha (not Sinai!) where FAITH alone stands and is created, because only then does our moral compass even start to function right. Id appreciate any feedback!
Sean, thank you for your thoughtful comment. I agree with you; it is impossible for any human to live up to moral absolutes. That being said, surely we are better off, individually & collectively, aspiring to something beyond Darwinian survival of the fittest. Many thanks for reading!
The last few contributions to this important conversation have really balanced on the fulcrum of ‘authority’ and the search for a vantage point from which to launch an ethical worldview.
One of the reasons that this is such a fascinating question is that both religion and philosophy have surrendered their claims to authoritatively and cogently address this question. The history of murder, mayhem and manipulation by and in the name of religion has left most intelligent people wondering if faith and reason are even compatible if the people who represent these faiths are so endlessly hypocritical.
Further, nothing has been more systematically disproved than post-modern moral and cultural relativism which has collapsed under the weight of its own contradictions but still clings to life in the hallowed and (intellectually)hollow halls of academia. It’s roots germinated in the fertile soil of colonialism, the Confederacy and fascism for goodness sake. Its diehard adherents are as difficult to understand as Trump supporters.
So, the question becomes, without the basis of these traditional institutions, what is the legitimate authority upon which to build a worldview and ethical system that makes sense? The tremendously unfortunate answer at this point in time is that our society has both robbed the millennial generation of legitimate traditional values and poorly equipped them to make these determinations on their own. It is truly the mother of all moral double-edged swords to the soul.
Archimedes famously said, give me a lever long enough and I can move the world. I applaud the struggle to find an Archimedian point for ethics and morality in this complex modern world. Bravo Ted!
Tom,
I really appreciate your seemingly humble response. Additionally, as a classics major, I appreciate your poetic and rhetorical way of explanation. You seem to be affirming what I am saying, namely, that the problem of ethics is impossible- and what Ted says, that we ought to at least give it a go! I’m not sure there is a lever long enough-but sure, let’s give it a go, with a heavy dose of epistemological modesty eh?
Sean,
The seminal progress of psychology and cognitive neuroscience over the past 40 years has produced an entirely new tool kit with which to explore human understanding. We could have a fascinating discussion on whether Hammurabi’s Code, the ten commandments or the Enlightenment has a had a more meaningful impact on contemporary society, but I’m not sure if that would be terribly productive.
My larger point is that when considering ethical and moral standards neither the faith-based nor the philosophy–based systems seem particularly concerned with systematically examining the evidence to advance human understanding. This is why I believe what Ted is doing is so insightful and important. We know more about how the human mind works and incorporates emotions and self-interest than ever before which is why we need to examine and explore these questions with this powerful lever of knowledge combined with the understanding that is still an imperfect science and this body of knowledge is still evolving.
Galileo was thought to be arrogant and impertinent by the leading academic and religious experts of his time, but yet he was only asserting his theories based on the evidence. I think we should all seek to emulate his approach. I am seeking to extract the dogmatic assertions of both philosophy and religious doctrine in seeking answers to really difficult and complex questions and establishing a true and honest authority to address the issues. If that strikes you as epistemologically immodest, bear in mind, we now know that the earth is not the center of the universe.
Tom,
Amen ?. I appreciate the engagement on this. I’m not saying we shouldn’t try to understand the human condition through all culture. I also appreciate Teds efforts here. I just don’t like coming across like a know-it-all about things I’m not entirely (that’s very euphemistic) sure about and that ultimately boil down to faith, a gift from God. Again, the more we can know, based on the data we have, the better, especially psychologically and sociologically speaking. But I don’t think an authority can be established apart from faith.
So, if authority must be shackled to faith, then establishing objective principles and exploration of ideas on ethics and morality is impossible because your ‘gift from God’ is very different and conflicting with mine and the hundreds of other faiths that exist. Some people believe their god is morally commanding them to kill those who don’t follow their beliefs and will provide eternal rewards for such behaviour. Is that approach not the ultimate event horizon of relativism?
There is a period of western civilization when one group’s revelation and authority were one and the same, it is called The Dark Ages.
Tom,
I don’t think authority must be shackled to faith I simply think it is. I don’t believe all faiths are equally valid. Nor do I believe they will be one and the same, at least in this age. I do think everyone is a relativist and that no one, Christians included, is operating on absolute objectivity. Even my interpretation of the Ten Commandments is relative to and highly influenced by, my culture and experience and differs, at least in some measure from many Christians. I do agree that establishing objective moral principles is impossible, for sinners. We’re all just groping our way through life. Salvation, whether temporal or eternal, is a gift from God, not a result of efforts to figure out the how tos of morality. Again, I think seeking to learn how to best get along, is a worthwhile venture that even ought to be pursued. I also believe God has objective moral standards that we can grope after. Whether it be faith in God (at least that his word and law are true) or faith in some kind of scientific system or some other mans discoveries, establishing an authority is shackled to the concept of, at least, implicit faith.
So, now authority not only must be derived from ‘faith’ but a more ‘valid’ version of faith. Unfortunately, since I don’t share in your mythology and am therefore a ‘sinner’, I have no shot at discovering objective moral principles, but that doesn’t discourage me in the least from trying.
I think that this is perfect example of the type of attitude driving a whole generation toward becoming ‘Nones’. Faced with a choice between belonging to some supposedly superior faith that they don’t really believe in and actually thinking about things for themselves, they chose the latter. Who wouldn’t, right? At least it has the virtue of making logical sense to ‘non-believers’ and the believers in the less-valid faiths.
Throughout history, the worst atrocities of mankind were committed by people who thought they knew something that others did not or that their ‘faith’ was more valid than the faith of others. I don’t blame millennials for seeing through that fig leaf of shallow reasoning.
I also feel it is important to disabuse you of the notion that science requires faith. In fact, since its origin in the late 16th century, modern science has fought faith-based beliefs(see previous comments on Galileo) and based its claims on reality, experiment and conclusions tied to actual, not imagined, evidence. Even though I have no shot at understanding human beings and the world around me, it still doesn’t diminish my desire to try.
Tom,
I definitely agree with your assertion that the attitude you describe drives people away. I do believe “the Christian Faith,” whatever that is, is the only valid faith. I think all “faiths” outside of faith in Christ are invalid. I recieve this as an article of faith. It’s expression I am very unsure about. I don’t presume to have the particulars figured out (Presbyterian, Episcopal, charismatic etc.). I do have opinions, based off my scientific reasonings, but we all know what opinions are like.