All morality is made up. So therefore, do our morals not matter?
Hardly. Our feelings about moral obligation are one of the central experiences of being human. The only question is how deep does one’s moral conviction go?
For example, let say the citizens of a town get together to address the town’s needs, and come up with a list of things for the town: a school, better roads, a fully funded fire department, and so on. The overall proposal comes with a price tag. the citizens gather and vote; if the vote passes two things will occur: a one-time property tax of 10% will be levied against all citizens with a property valued at over $500,000, and the approved projects will begin when the tax is collected to fund them.
The measure passes overwhelmingly with 92% of the vote and goes into place. Tax bills are immediately sent out. But just as immediately, the dozen richest property owners say that they voted against the bill and decline to pay this tax, as they feel no moral obligation to fund the proposed goals which they personally will not benefit from. On top of that they also dispute the right of the citizens of this town to vote to involuntarily confiscate their property or money. These rich folks say it is fine to ask them for donations, which they may or may not give, but the other citizens of the town have no right to compel them to fund anything, no matter how many people vote to do so.
The citizens of the town and these 12 rich families disagree about the obligations to the town and its needs. At the end of the day, a practical question must be answered: is the tax forcibly collected from the dissenters, or not?
And that depends on the strength of one’s moral conviction.
If the townspeople do indeed think that everyone ought to pay their tax to fund these voted goals, but not strongly enough to make the rich pay their share, then all they really have is a moral belief about what people who agree with them should do – and the rich will be permitted to not contribute, and the projects will fail to be funded.
But if the townspeople are so convinced that people ought to pay their fair share that they are willing to make them pay, even if they disagree and decline, then their moral conviction is about all people, whether those people agree or not.
In a sense, this is the fundamental law of morality: a moral conviction is an ought that is so strongly held that one is willing to use force as needed to make even those who don’t agree submit to it.
So there is no universal morality, since morality comes from what we feel, and that is individual – but having a morality is universal, since we all have these feelings. And the morals that really matter are our convictions, which are the things we feel so strongly about we are willing to compel (if we can) others to follow them even if they disagree.
Power, in other words, doesn’t make one person’s morality more correct than another’s – since all morality is equally correct – but power does make one’s morality more enforceable. So those who wish to see their moral convictions acquiesced to will naturally be concerned with having enough power to compel obedience. Having a conviction that innocent people shouldn’t be assaulted is useless without the power to compel those who disagree to desist.
And at this point in my life this was not hypothetical.
Which raised the next question for me. As I had told H, I firmly believe that when bad things happen, if one hasn’t done one’s best to prevent them, it’s on them. So the more power one has, the more responsibility one has to compel people to follow one’s own moral convictions.
But there’s a catch. Let’s say that one has the moral conviction that killing people is wrong. Let’s also say that in a certain situation a man is going to kill ten others – and the only way to stop him is to kill him.
There are two equally valid ways to handle the situation:
- Killing people is wrong. Therefore I am not allowed to kill. So if the only way to stop this man is to kill him, I ought not to stop him, even though that means he will kill ten others.
- Killing people is wrong. Ten people being killed is worse than one person being killed. So if I have the option of deciding which happens, I ought to choose the outcome where fewer people are killed, even if I have to kill one man to do it.
People who embrace the first are focused on virtue over outcomes – on being good no matter the cost. People who embrace the second are focused on outcomes over virtue – on doing good, no matter the cost.
Another name for basing one’s choice on comparing likely outcomes is pragmatism.
Virtue-based choices are the best for making you feel great about who you are, but the worst at creating a world where life is fairer than the alternative.
Pragmatism-based choices can sometimes leave you feeling bad, but they are the best at creating a fairer and more just world.
I always choose the latter.
So I am a murderer. I have such strong feelings of compassion and moral convictions about justice that I am compelled to use what power I can to make others improve their bad behavior. But I am also a pragmatist, since I believe that what is the most important is not how good or bad I feel about myself, but how much my choices cause life to improve for those who deserve much more fairness and justice that they are given.
Even if I have to do some unjust things by my own hand to create a truckload of justice for others.
And this was just one small drop in the red ocean to come.