When we think of moral standards; we
usually think in terms of rule - never tell a lie, never steal, and so forth.
This is what I mean when I refer to the Old Morality: the definition of what is
good, or what is right, in terms of inflexible laws. I want to suggest that
this way of thinking underlies the moral confusion of the present day. It is
responsible not only for the breakdown of the Old Morality, but also for the
transparent failure of the so-called New Morality. In conclusion, I hope to
suggest an alternative which, while not dispensing with rules, will put them in
their proper perspective, and which, in so doing, may combine the substance of
the Old Morality with the spirit of the New.
The Death of the Old Morality
The Old Morality can be expressed in
many different ways. Perhaps the most familiar are the theological conception
of natural law and the philosophical conception of a categorical imperative,
enunciated by Immanuel Kant. Though they may vary in detail, these ethical
systems reduce morality to a book of rules. Certain actions are wrong all the
time, such as divorce, or murder, or withholding the truth. Certain other
actions are always right, such as chastity, or self-sacrifice, or going to
church.
We are accustomed to dismiss all this
rather loftily, as a relic of out-worn superstition. But let us at least
recognize the standing challenge which the Old Morality makes to every critic.
The challenge is this: can you abandon a morality of rules without abandoning
morality all together? Is there any way to establish a firm, objective standard
of goodness without appealing to inflexible laws? This is the Old Morality's
last-ditch argument, and it is a strong one. It defies anyone to abandon the
Old Morality without abandoning morality all together.
The New Morality
The prophets of the New Morality have
not paid serious attention to this challenge. Instead, they have busied
themselves with a trenchant and often indignant criticism of the Old Morality.
Their indictment is impressive. They can show that a rule-book morality makes a
virtue of submission and self-denial. These in turn produce destructive
psychological consequences, such as guilt feelings, super ego, and an
authoritarian personality. Furthermore, since the Old Morality measures
goodness simply in terms of external conformity to law, it ignores motives and
thereby encourages hypocrisy. It is a psychological fact that the dedicated
legalist tends to be un-self-critical, self-righteousness, and often even
cruel.
There is one further objection to the
Old Morality which is especially to the point. You can always imagine a
situation in which to follow the law does more harm than to ignore it. The
classic example, of course, is Immanuel Kant himself. Kant was asked what he
would do if a known murderer demanded to know the whereabouts of his intended
victim. Kant replied that the law against lying is absolute; one exception is
enough to invalidate it. He therefore had no qualms about turning informer. In
the name of truth, he was willing to become an accessory to murder.
In the face of all these criticisms,
the Old Morality is now in full retreat. Its critics, however, have seldom
proposed a genuine substitute. In celebration of their new freedom from the old
restrictions, they seem content to dance upon the wave of the Old Morality.
Their pronouncements are often hasty and ill-considered, and seldom illumine
the moral issue at stake. The result his been not only to dismay the older
generation, but to confuse the young.
I have in mind the recently reported
statement by the chaplain of a girls’ college, who had assured students
that illicit sexual behavior, far from being undesirable, could be a deeply
enriching experience. As it stands, this statement is irresponsible in the
extreme. It is like telling someone that the way to get rich is to play the
stock market, without also telling him that it is a very dangerous game, even
for those who spend a life-time studying it. It is equally reckless to
encourage people to engage in random sexual adventures without warning them
that the consequences are usually resentment and disillusionment. Anyone who
gives such advice owes his listeners some hard-headed, practical advice about
how to distinguish the rare case of "enriching adultery” from the vast
majority, which lead not to fulfillment, but to misery and disillusionment.
Another Christian spokesman has said
that the act of adultery could become a kind of holy communion. When Christians
talk in this way, one suspects that their primary concern is not for their
listeners, but for themselves. They want to clear themselves of any
guilt-by-association with the Old Morality. In establishing their own
broad-mindedness, however, they are playing fast and loose with those who look
to them for guidance. They are like the pharmacist who neglects to label a drug
which may be taken safely only under very special circumstances. The prophet of
the New Morality omits the label because he has none. It is difficult, if not
impossible to spell out in advance the conditions in which adultery might not
prove destructive.
The New Morality thus consists
largely in a criticism of the Old. And until it can provide some new standard
of goodness, it is not really a morality at all, but a kind of anti-morality.
It is, in effect, a, doctrine that anything goes. It has failed to provide an
alternative to a morality based upon rules.
A Third Alternative
We have now defined the problem: the
problem is to conceive goodness without appealing to laws and rules. We can
solve the problem, I suggest, by considering the function of rules in any game
or sport. I do not mean those rules which the referee enforces, like "ten yards
to a first down.'' I mean rules which any experienced player learns --
like "punt on fourth down " or “take a pitch when the count is three
balls.” These rules are part of the wise player’s know-how, and
distinguish him from the novice. But they are not unbreakable. The best players
are those who know when to ignore them. In the game of bridge, for example,
there is a useful rule which says, “second hand low.” But have you
ever played with anyone who followed this rule slavishly? You say to him (in
exasperation), “Partner, why didn't you play your ace? We could have set
the hand." And he replies, unperturbed, "Second hand low!”
What is wrong? The same thing that
was wrong when Kant gave information to the murderer. He forgot the purpose of
the game. He let the rule, which is there to help and guide him, become his
taskmaster. He no longer thought of winning the hand, but of being able to
justify himself by invoking the rule.
I suggest that in this respect there
is no difference between life itself and a sporting match. In both cases,
actions are judged good or bad in terms of a purpose. In football, a good play
is one which advances the ball. Where morality is concerned, a good act is
likewise one which promotes the purpose of life itself. This is an answer to
the challenge of the Old Morality, a perfectly clear and objective standard of
goodness which makes no reference to rules.
The obvious objection
is that there are as many purposes as there are
people, and that the result will be chaos. The point, however, is not what our
purposes are, but what they should be. It is possible for people
to join in a common effort - like the members of a football team. There is no
reason why life itself may not have a purpose. If it does, then we live
more wisely when we join it. We may not yet agree on what
that purpose is. But we have established that if we ask the question, "What is
good?” This is where the answer lies. No other kind of answer seems
possible.
There are other objections which will
no doubt come out in the discussion. For example, what do we do when people
disagree about life's purpose? Or, does the end justify the mans? Or, most
urgently, what is the purpose of life, and how do you prove it?
I am not going to try to prove my
own answer in the time available (though I think there are strong arguments in
its favor), but, for your subsequent target practice, I will say what I think
it is: the purpose of life is that everyone should love you as much as he loves
himself. Anything which promotes that end is good, and whatever obstructs it is
bad. If a person tells a lie, the act is not bad in itself, but only if (as it
usually does) it involves a breach of trust and so destroys friendship.
Conversely, if a murderer asks Immanuel Kant where the victim is, it is Kant's
duty not to tell him.
In conclusion, I offer some
reflections about the status of rules in such a moral system. In the first
place, rules are indispensable, just as they are to the sportsman, or even to
the scientist in the laboratory. Without rules as guides, we are reduced to
trial and error. Human activity becomes intelligent the more it eliminates
trial and error by discovering rules. This applies to morality as well as to
other kinds of activity.
Secondly, the rules are only mans to
an end. No action is intrinsically wrong, unless it could be shown that it
necessarily and in every case destroyed the preconditions of friendship. These
conditions would include such things as trust, respect, and human
dignity.
Thirdly, moral rules like the rules
which any experienced sportsman knows, are the result of experience. They are
an attempt to formulate the moral experience of the human race. In that sense,
they are a kind of collective wisdom.
Fourthly, a good many of the rules
associated with the Old Morality do in fact embody such wisdom. If we look at
traditional morality, not as a series of expressive tabus, but as an
accumulation of wisdom which can spare us the embarrassment of finding out the
hard way, they have much to teach us. Practically every week someone writes to
Ann Landers with the same, sad message: ''Please warn your readers not to
repeat my foolish mistake. I was bored with my humdrum 1ife, and thought I saw
a chance for happiness in an adulterous relationship. Take it from me, it has
brought nothing but misery."
Before we abandon traditional rules,
we would do well to remember that they are not all on the same level. Different
degrees of risk are involved in ignoring different rules. For example, though
conceivably one might imagine a case where murder would advance the purpose of
love, the chances are very heavily against it. Moreover. if one should be
mistaken, the damage would be catastrophic. The risk in breaking this rule
would therefore be very high. There are other rules which, though also very
useful guides, my not cover quite such a high percentage of cases. Perhaps the
rule about never withholding the truth is one of these. Before departing from
any of the traditional norms, therefore, one does well to take stock of the
risks involved.
Fifthly, all moral rules may in
principle be improved upon. At this point I am indebted to Dean Heath's
remarks, when he said that we are constantly refining our rules of conduct, as
we learn more about human relations. For example, thanks to the insights of
psychology, the relation of parent to child is no longer as strict and
authoritarian as it once was. Similarly, the whole concept of punishment has
been transformed by a scientific understanding of personality. Vindictiveness
does not reform the criminal, but perpetuates his hostility. There is no moral
rule which may not be modified or oven discarded if it produces the wrong
results. The test of any rule, like the test of any action, lies in its
consequences.
This is my answer to the question,
"Can there be morality without rules?" Morality without rules is as blind as
any other human activity without rules. The mistake comes when you permit the
rules to become an end in themselves, instead of a means. When the good is
defined in terms of purpose, the individual is called upon to use his creative
capacity to the fullest. Every new situation confronts him with on opportunity
for constructive ingenuity. He need not thereby become an opportunist. He is
rather putting into practice the dictum of St. Paul, "All things are lawful,
but not a11 things are expedient." That is, although nothing is intrinsically
"bad," it becomes bad when it prevents love.