Today, we're going to talk about morality and its consequences.
Let's start with a quotation from Susan R. Wolf's essay, "Moral Saints," which appears in The Journal of Philosophy, Volume LXXIX, No. 8, August 1982.
[I]t is generally assumed that one ought to be as morally good as possible and that what limits there are to morality's hold on us are set by features of human nature of which we ought not to be proud.
In other words, it's generally thought that we should be as good as we can, and any failure in doing so is because of the inherent badness of humankind. Now, we could talk philosophically and debate all of this like Wolf does, but (1) I'm vastly unqualified to do so successfully, and (2) this is really a newsletter where I've forced myself to talk mostly about me and my thoughts, so we'd better continue on that line.
I guess I'd better start with why I'm using an essay I was assigned in class as a jumping-off point for a much less formal essay of my own. In studying philosophy (as I've done in small amounts), there's a general through-line which says, "behave morally! Behave morally at all costs!" This is an intimidating one. So you have that general demand that philosophers like, oh, say Kant and Mill and whoever the fuck else, insist of you. Do well, be well.
But then you have the question that all my professors have framed ethical questions under: "How do we live well?" Then it's about you, to some extent -- how do you live a good life? And then, at least for me, questions of morality sort of become subdued, at least until you're being lectured on
For me, these are very different themes, and lead very different places. The first idea, the one that commands that moral considerations dominate your life, is scary for me. I tend to be quite persuaded by ideas like this, because I'm very afraid of "being bad," whatever the hell that means. If bad people exist, I certainly don't want to be one of them, so I find myself striving to be as good as I can (when I'm feeling that fear, at least), if only because I don't know where the line is drawn.
In my life, I spend a lot of time worrying about invisible trip wires. Of course in social situations I worry that there are things I could say, things that seem okay to me but are in reality not okay, that would destroy a relationship with another person. This has happened in reality, which isn't inherently bad, but is devastating to me nonetheless. But that's not really our topic for today. Like we're discussing now, I worry that there are moral boundaries that will destroy ... well, not me exactly, but something. Something big. My integrity, maybe? My silent status as a "decent person." Not that anyone is keeping score. But then, I was raised somewhat Baptist, so it usually feels like someone is. That's a discussion for another day, though.
The main reason we're talking philosophy here, then: Wolf's argument gave me a sense of massive relief when I read it. It felt like, finally, there was a brilliant, impassable, concrete argument for not having to be as moral as possible. Of course, having moral inclinations is a good thing -- good for your character. But doing stuff that's amoral is fine always, too. Gardening, or singing, or whatever it is -- anything otherwise devoting yourself to causes that aren't part of advancing your standing in some moral system. Having commitments and desires and ambitions that aren't inherently moral is a part of personhood. Not everything has to be dominated by concerns of what is the most good.
How the fuck does she accomplish this grand (and deeply controversial, in some ways) argument? Let's look at another excerpt from her essay.
Given the empirical circumstances of our world, it seems to be an ethical fact that we have unlimited potential to be morally good ... [b]ut this is not incompatible with the not-so-ethical reasons to choose not to devote ourselves univocally to realizing this potential or taking up this opportunity.
She talks, too, about an idea she coined: the idea of the "Moral Saint." Someone who does everything in their power to commit as many good acts as possible, to create as much happiness and general human improvement as possible. Sounds nice, to some extent, but in reality that whole type of existence is shit. For one, if you're looking to maximize the good you accomplish, you've got to act externally.
That is to say, if you're in any position of some sort of advantage/privilege/whatever you want to call it, your best bet to achieve the most good is helping people who are worse off than you. Mathematically, that will accomplish the most -- and if you're looking to be a moral saint, you have to do the most most most possible. If you're doing any less, you're knowingly not doing the good you're capable of, which is inherently less moral than striving for maximum good.
If it sounds like a hellish existence, you're in agreement with Wolf. Yes, it's great to see value in goodness and act accordingly (to some extent), but to let the pursuit of maximum good dominate your life is generally a flawed process.
For one, people are capable of doing a lot of shit. A lot of good, if we're running with the Moral Saint idea, still. And if you want to do the most good possible, you don't have room for anything else. Doing anything else besides pursuing maximum goodness, in fact, is amoral (not immoral, but behavior outside of the dichotomy of good/bad morals). Lazy things like having a long shower, going to the beach to laze about, and ambitious things like writing a silly essay (self mention) or creating an art installation, these aren't moral. That means they're less than the goal of Moral Sainthood, which is maximum morality.
It doesn't leave a lot of room to actually live a good life. Yes, it's a "good" (moral) life, but it has none of the goodness of amoral or even the occasional immoral livelihood. I would be pissed if suddenly I had to stop being a little sarcastic, or gossiping, or doing other generally asshole-y stuff because of some lofty (and, really, ridiculous) moral pursuit. Because why the fuck do I care? Not to sound like a bitch, but that's supremely intense, and why the fuck would I do that to myself? Forgive the heavy colloquial speak, there, but honestly -- that's just not a life I'm interested in.
Guys I’m gonna be so honest I have been sitting on this draft for two weeks and I just really don’t want to write it anymore. So yay, that’s it for today! Lol. Adieu.