Moral Fibers

Some philosophers take to painting verbal pictures in order to explain their concepts. Some of those philosophers will tell you the fabric of morality is made of principles woven together. It is a beautiful image to see that goodness is so orderly. It is a consoling thought to think that morality is universally applicable. Do we not desire for laws to govern our behavior like they do in fact govern the behavior of bodies?

If we continue with the metaphor, it continues to be fruitful. When looking closer at textiles, we see they do not consist of parallel threads. No. Cloth made in that fashion would fall apart. There are innumerable points where the strands intersect and wind around each other. Is it not the same with our picture of moral fabric? Are there not crossroads where the principles meet perpendicularly to each other? These intersections are the locations of human drama and human tragedy. Conflict and tension are what bind our lives together, and yet they also blind us to the truth. Moral quandaries exist because our vision cannot see past the knots. When two principles lead us in different directions: what then? How can both be true when each outcome is opposed?

Do not be dismayed. I am not implying these principles, which can run counter to each other, cannot be a part of one and the same string. I am not interested in passing judgment on the picture as a whole. It helps us understand morality, even if morality is something more. I will merely state the conflagration of principles and their collisions suggests they are substantial. Alas, substance is often indicated by opacity. Their being woven makes it difficult for light to shine through.

Here I want only to tug on a couple strings. Those same philosophers who paint this vision of morality will offer you various principles they think are a part of the fabric. Let us here examine examples of moral imperatives. Let us pull on two such principles to see whether and how they are connected. You will be free to consider their applicability on your own and how much that conclusion should bear upon the critique of the image as a whole.

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1. 2.

Consider the following moral imperatives.
1: Never do evil so that good may come.
2: Do not let the perfect get in the way of the good.

The first is found in many moral texts and is attributed in its earliest written formation to the Apostle Paul. The second is heard in many political debates and is often attributed to Voltaire.

Both imperatives present commands of omission. Agents are not to do some act in order to be moral. Considering much of the good life consists in abstaining, this form of command follows. Beyond formal appearances, are the two equally strong parts of the presumed cloth?

If morality is universally applicable, then the rules it consists of must be like natural laws. They must be indisputably true through all circumstances.

Observe the truth functions of 1 and 2.
1: Always true. Evil and good are contradictory. Doing one precludes doing the other. Whoever wants to be moral--to do good--ought not to do non-good first (or ever).

2: Contingently true. If the perfect can be done and you should do what is best, then the perfect should be done and the imperative is false. In that case, the perfect is better than the good and should, therefore, "get in the way." If the perfect cannot be done and you should avoid doing anything, then the imperative is false. In that case, the greatest "gets in the way of" the less great. In this scenario, adulation for the unattainable (the best) prevents idolization for the attainable (the good). If the perfect is not achievable and if we should do something, then the imperative is true. In that case, perfection is not an impediment to human possibility. Thus, recognition of our limitations provides for realistically envisioned courses of action and gives us reason to pursue them.

It is now evident 1 and 2 are not a part of the moral fabric in the same way. 1 is absolute. 2 is contextual. While 1 is completely enmeshed in truth, 2 only partially is. 2 is like a loose string, connected on one end and dangling limply on the other. 2 requires further thought to determine whether it applies to a given case.

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1 and 2

1 warns against compromise; 2 warrants it. Is this apparent conflict insurmountable? Let us consider possible definitions of our terms.

Both 1 and 2 use the term "good." When a good is compared against the best, a good appears evil. We know this truth of relativity when we concede that "second is first loser." If this is the totality of our understanding of the relation between perfection (best) and imperfection (a good), then we have reached an impasse. Not letting the perfect get in the way of the good entails doing a good act despite its limitations. Some of these shortcomings--that the good is not a panacea or a silver bullet--present like evils. The good at times is a half-measure and a mixed blessing. A good act may go to perpetuate the parasitic evils present in the situation while it furthers the good. If this makes the good act evil, then we would be unable to avoid doing evil so that good may come.

But is that all that is to be said? If perfection is a state and imperfection is spectrum, there is a way to abide by both imperatives. Could we not retort that it is better to be second than third, better to do a limited good act than to do nothing? If one cannot win on one's own, is it not laudable to lose as little as possible? If the good as it exists for us varies in its purity, then one is free to compromise within the range, provided the outcome is a greater good and the compromise does not involve perpetrating evil. Evil, on this view, would be circumscribed to the lowest depth.

If we consider who is acting--agents who are complex and frail--then, for them, the perfect is untenable. Imperfection is not always the intention, but is always a byproduct. Someone who does the less than ideal may not be doing evil so that good may come, but may be doing good so that better may come.

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1 then 2

Let us apply these principles. Below, I have summarized a prevalent--if unstated--view on a moral topic.

Scenario A:
Self-sacrifice entails suffering.
Self-sacrifice is good.
Suffering is evil.
Never do evil so that good may come.

Therefore, never self-sacrifice.

Are we living in Scenario A? What an outcome we have gotten using a true moral principle! Never self-sacrifice? I shudder to think of the world where morality requires no such act. The scenario recognizes self-sacrifice is good, and yet we are prohibited from doing so. Is this an exception to 1? Where have we hit a snag?

Although a person may be tempted to believe suffering is evil, the true situation requires more subtle interpretation. Suffering, in itself, is not evil. Supplement Scenario A with 2, and we can craft a more accurate summary of the topic. Within 2, we find the possibility of redemption in suffering--the point where suffering is not evil--and thus disprove the proposition that suffering is evil pure and simple.

Redemption is an act of taking what one has and relinquishing it to be improved upon. A person redeems a coupon in order to have the discounted price. The coupon is worth its face value only after it has been relinquished.

When a person's suffering is redeemed, he releases it in order to have peace. Peace can come from wisdom or consolation. Either a person understands why she had to suffer or she ceases to be aware of her suffering.

We long for the perfect, cannot have it, and suffer through our distance from it. Yet, some people still strive for better than the good they currently possess. This "still striving" causes additional suffering as striving always brings with it exhaustion and potential for mistakes. Nevertheless, the suffering is redeemed by the greater good that follows. Those people who willingly suffer to abide by their principles and instantiate the human equivalents of their ideals are therein redeemed through suffering.

Redemption is an act of sublimation: we pursue that which we disdain in order not to be defeated by that which we disdain. We discipline ourselves, which is painful, in order to be spared worse, more dangerous pain. We turn the opposition into an ally and in so doing we win the war by conceding the battle.

Compromise is efficacious in the natural world. An effective strategy for containing forest fires is to light others. Firefighters shape the fire through man-made controlled burns. They lead flames away from valuable sites by setting less valuable sites ablaze. The first fire cannot proceed past the area already burned by the second because the fuel it needs has been consumed. Thus, firefighters are able to set boundaries to unmanageable fires by managing fires they start. A similar tactic is used in medicine. Immunizations introduce small amounts of nefarious bacteria, viruses, and allergens into the body. The body wards off these injected intruders and learns the best tactics for defense in the process. Should these foes return in greater numbers later, the body is prepared.

Can we spot the ripples of a similar movement upon the moral sphere? Consider courage. A courageous person confronts danger to avoid greater danger. Fear mixes with wisdom to create courage. We judge it better to risk bodily injury than to be healthy in body and shackled. We judge it better to risk bodily death than to be exterminated by an invader. If a tyrant enters our land, we can fight (courage), submit (prudence), or extricate ourselves from his control and take our lives (cowardice). The courageous person fights in order to not fight. The courageous person does not let the perfect (safety) get in the way of the good (justice). The courageous person does not do evil (suicide) so that good may come (freedom).

Is this not the way we are told to pursue everlasting life? For a person looking to live, he needs to partially die. He must conscript what he wants to evade (suffering) in order not to be overwhelmed (death). We cannot outrun our wrongdoings. If by evasion we feign to avoid the taint of evil, we run into the forest of a crippling moral crisis. We either cease trying to be worthy or assume we naturally are. It is pride that makes us flee and the strength of our pride will snap us asunder.

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Like a cat with a ball of yarn, I have gotten ensnared in my own curiosity. I have lead us far away from where we began and beg your pardon. Allow me to tie the whole discussion into a bow so that you may take your leave and judge for yourself.

We have witnessed another episode in the tug-of-war between black and white versus gray, exacting versus understanding, purity versus mixture. We surveyed the relationship between 1 and 2. The fulcrum on the see-saw between them is a matter of intention. The person who wants to abide by both, contrarily oriented imperatives, needs to harness the proper motivation. Compromise must be forged--when it should be forged--by a spirit of reverence to perfection. It is a matter, too, of language and conceptions. What is good and what is evil make all the difference. If good and the perfect are equivalent or if suffering is evil, we cannot tether the two imperatives together.

Our musings began with a picture and shall end with a question about a painter. Your answer will help you decide whether you should spend time criticizing as we have done here or whether you should stay out of the museum of thought. Does an artist ennoble the subject of his artwork by reproducing it or does he defame it by hemming it into the confines of the frame?