Ethical Relativism and Absolutism
22
Ethical Relativism and Absolutism
Man is the measure of all things: of things that are, that they are; of things that are not, that they are not.
Protagoras, On Truth
[Protagoras] was saying, in other words, that each individual’s private impression is absolutely true. But if that position is adopted, then it follows that the same thing is and is not, that it is both good and bad, and similarly for other contradictions; because, after all, a given thing will seem beautiful to one group of people and ugly to another, and by the theory in question each of the conflicting appearances will be “the measure.”
Aristotle, Metaphysics 1062B13
1—Introduction
When a person approaches specific issues in applied ethics, such as abortion, capital punishment, or euthanasia, he or she brings to those issues a set of background beliefs about general ethical topics. This is the way it should be. In any field of study, specific debates are argued within the framework of broad theories that are relevant to those debates. For example, if two historians are going to discuss the causes for the decline of the Roman Empire, they will utilize arguments rooted in broader theories about history, civilizations, and so forth: Do historians create facts or discover them? Do we have good records about ancient Rome? How does one determine for a civilization the relative importance of economic factors compared to other factors? And so on.
Similarly, when we attempt to analyze specific ethical issues, certain broad topics are important. What is the difference between a factual judgment (e.g., people disapprove of murder) and a value judgment (e.g., people ought to disapprove of murder)? Are all values relative, or are some absolute? What does it mean to say that some moral value is an absolute? The debate between moral relativism and absolutism is of central importance to ethical reasoning, and this debate is especially pressing in contemporary culture. Louis Pojman observes,
Eskimos allow their elderly to die by starvation, whereas we believe that this practice is morally wrong. The Spartans of ancient Greece believed, and Dobu of New Guinea believe today, that stealing is morally right, but we believe that it is wrong. The Nuer of East Africa throw deformed infants to the hippopotamus, but we abhor infanticide. Ruth Benedict describes a tribe in Melanesia that views cooperation and kindness as vices, and Colin Turnbull had documented that the Ik in Northern Uganda have no sense of duty toward their children or parents. Some societies make it a duty for children to kill (sometimes strangle) their aging parents. Eskimos sometimes abandon their elderly as they move on to new locations. Sexual practices vary over time and clime. Some cultures permit homosexual behavior, whereas others condemn it. Some cultures practice cannibalism, whereas we detest it. Cultural relativism is well documented, and custom seems “king o’er all.”
In this chapter, we will do two things: state and evaluate different theses that have been associated with ethical relativism, and state and evaluate different forms of ethical absolutism.
2—Ethical Relativism
In this section we will clarify and evaluate six different theses that, in one way or another, have been associated with relativism. But first, let us look briefly at an important philosophical distinction between facts and values.
2.1 Facts and Values
Consider two cultures, A and B. In culture A, it is thought to be a moral duty to benefit an elderly person by taking his or her life when that person gets old. In culture B, such an act is morally forbidden. Do cultures A and B differ over the values they embrace? Maybe not. They may both agree on the truth of the moral proposition “Do not murder an innocent human being.” However, because of a difference in factual beliefs, culture A (in contrast to culture B) may not consider taking the life of an elderly parent to be murder. Suppose culture A believes that one must take one’s body into the afterlife and hunt for food with it forever. In such a case, one’s happiness and safety in the afterlife would depend on the condition of one’s body at death, and taking an elderly person’s life would not be murder, but an example of morally justifiable life taking. Or so claim members of A. In culture B, no such beliefs about the afterlife are present, and thus taking the life of an elderly person is an act of murder. Cultures A and B agree about moral values (murdering an innocent human being is wrong), but they differ in their factual beliefs about what the world is like.
In general, a fact or factual belief involves a description about the way the world is: empirically, metaphysically, religiously. Some descriptions have nothing to do with morality, such as, “The lamp is on the desk.” If a descriptive statement does involve morality, then it is a statement about morality; for example, “Most people in America think racism is wrong.” In contrast, a value or value belief involves the adherence to some moral proposition that prescribes what morally ought to be. An “ought” statement makes a prescription. Moral, prescriptive statements are statements of morality, for example, “Racism is wrong” or “Racism is morally permissible.” These differences are summarized in table 22.1.
Table 22.1. Distinctions between facts and values
fact
is
description
statement about morality
value
ought
prescription
statement of morality
While the distinction between facts and values is fairly clear, nevertheless, this distinction has been used in two very different ways. Some have used fact to stand for any state of affairs that is real and part of the mind-independent world. For them, values are not facts, and thus they are not objectively real in the mind-independent world. Values turn out to be subjective in one way or another. For example, to say that friendship has value merely says that I subjectively value friendship. A second, more adequate way of viewing the distinction between facts and values is as follows. First, values are real entities in the world. For example, to say that humans have intrinsic value is to say they have the property of intrinsic worth and this is true of them irrespective of what people believe to be so. Second, there are value facts—descriptions of what ought to be—and nonvalue or “mere” facts—descriptions of what simply is—since both kinds of facts are real. On this view, the distinction between facts and values is the distinction between value facts and “mere” facts. Thus the importance of the distinction amounts to the idea that just because something is the case, it doesn’t automatically follow that it ought to be the case. We are using the distinction in the second sense and will use fact for nonvalue or “mere” fact.
Differences in factual beliefs can play a decisive role in ethical disagreements. For example, when a Jehovah’s Witness refuses a blood transfusion and dies, does this imply that he or she accepts the moral appropriateness of suicide? Not at all. Jehovah’s Witnesses may agree with others that suicide is morally forbidden. But because they believe that God disapproves of eating blood and transfusions are examples of eating blood, these religious factual beliefs lead them to the following position: an act of refusing a blood transfusion is not an act of suicide but rather an act of sacrificing one’s life for God.
The distinction between facts and values can give us insight into three different sources for moral disagreements, which can be illustrated with the abortion controversy. First, a moral dispute can be about a factual difference. For example, debates about abortion sometimes involve debates about whether the fetus is a person or a human being. Such a debate is a factual debate, not primarily a moral one, though of course it has serious moral implications. Both sides in the debate can agree that murder or manslaughter is wrong, but they differ about whether abortion is murder or manslaughter because they have different factual beliefs about the status of the fetus.
The next two sources of moral disagreements involve value differences. To begin with, a value difference can occur when one side affirms and the other side denies a moral proposition, such as the proposition that it is wrong to intentionally kill an innocent human being. On the other hand, a value difference can occur when both sides accept two or more moral principles, but weigh their relative strengths differently. For example, the right to life and the right to choice could both be embraced by each side of the abortion debate, but the two sides weigh them differently. Pro-life advocates could hold that the right to life takes precedence over the right to choose, and pro-choice advocates could reverse this order. In general, then, there are three important sources of moral disagreement. A test for when such a disagreement is rooted in a value difference is this: Is there a moral principle one side affirms and the other denies, or are there two or more principles being weighed differently?
We have seen that ethical disputes involve disagreements about facts and values, and one should try to understand precisely what is being debated in a particular ethical dispute. The distinction between facts and values is also helpful in understanding six different theses often associated with ethical relativism.
2.2 Six Theses Associated with Ethical Relativism
2.2.1 Cultural or Descriptive Relativism
First, there is cultural or descriptive relativism. This is the descriptive, factual thesis, often expressed by anthropologists, sociologists, and historians, that societies do, in fact, have disparate views on basic ethical judgments. A basic ethical disagreement is one that remains when all the factual issues are agreed on and when two cultures mean the same thing by the same ethical concepts like “right” or “wrong,” but disagree as to what acts are right and wrong. Thus a basic ethical disagreement will be a value difference. Cultural relativism, then, amounts to the thesis that what is considered right and wrong or the way moral principles are weighed relative to each other varies from culture to culture. There is an individual version of this thesis—right and wrong varies from individual to individual—but we will focus here only on the cultural version.
Two things should be kept in mind when evaluating cultural relativism. First, it is not a moral thesis at all. It is not a prescriptive statement of morality, but a descriptive, factual statement about morality. As such it entails no substantive moral thesis whatever. In particular, it does not follow from cultural relativism that there are no moral absolutes that are true for all people, nor does it follow that these absolutes cannot be known. Different cultures differ over the shape of the earth, but this does not imply that no one is right about the earth’s shape or that no one is rational in believing one’s view about the earth’s shape. The same line of reasoning applies to cultural relativism.
Someone could respond that sometimes the fact that people cannot agree about something shows that there is no real fact of the matter at stake, that is, that no one is right and no one is wrong. On the other hand, from the simple existence of unresolved disagreements about something it still does not follow that no one is right. This further conclusion needs to be argued for, not merely asserted. Moreover, if a case can be made for true moral values (see below), then the presence of disagreements in moral views shows something other than the relative truth value of moral statements—for example, that people often form their moral views for self-serving, sinful reasons. Finally, ethical differences may not be as widespread as many people think. This leads to a second observation.
Cultural relativism may even be a weak factual thesis. When due consideration is given to factual clarification, many apparent moral differences turn out to be merely factual, not moral. This lends support to the claim that cultures exhibit widespread agreement regarding basic values; for instance, no culture has valued cowardice in battle. So it may well be that many cultural differences turn out to be factual differences. The Christian doctrine of general revelation and the idea of natural moral law—the notion that there are true, universally binding moral principles knowable by all people and rooted in creation and the way things are made—lead us to suspect at least some widespread agreement about moral values. On the other hand, there do appear to be genuine disputes among cultures about basic ethical judgments. And the biblical doctrine of original sin should lead us to suspect that cultures can become morally twisted and repugnant depending on the degree to which that culture lives and thinks in light of general or special revelation.
2.2.2 Normative or Ethical Relativism
A second ethical thesis is called normative relativism or ethical relativism. This substantive moral thesis holds that everyone ought to act in accordance with the agent’s own society’s code. What is right for one society is not necessarily right for another society. For example, society A may have in its code “Adultery is morally permissible,” and society B may have “Adultery is morally forbidden.” A and B mean the same thing by “adultery,” “morally permissible,” and “morally forbidden,” and thus these societies genuinely differ over the rightness of adultery.
Put differently, normative relativism implies that moral propositions are not simply true or false. Rather, the truth values of moral principles themselves are relative to the beliefs of a given culture. For example, “Murder is wrong” is not true plain and simply; it is “true for culture A,” but, perhaps, “false for culture B.” The point here is not just that there is a certain relativity in the application of moral principles. For example, two cultures could both hold that “one should maintain sexual fidelity in marriage,” but apply this differently due to factual differences about what counts as a marriage (e.g., one wife or several wives). Factual diversity can lead to differences in the way a moral rule is applied.
Normative relativism goes beyond this type of diversity and asserts that the truth values of moral principles themselves are relative to a given culture, for example, whether one ought to maintain sexual fidelity itself could be true relative to one culture and false relative to another culture. As with cultural relativism, there is a difference between individual and cultural versions. Individual normative relativism (also called subjectivism) says that the truth of moral rules is relative to the beliefs of each individual; cultural normative relativism (also called conventionalism) makes moral truth relative to entire cultures or societies.
The majority of moral philosophers and theologians do not embrace normative relativism because of the seriousness of the criticisms raised against it. First, it is difficult to define what a society is or to specify in a given case what the relevant society is. Consider societies A and B above. If a man from A has sex with a woman from B in a hotel in a third society C with a different view from either A or B, which is the relevant society for determining whether the act was right or wrong? Second, a related objection is the fact that we are often simultaneously a member of several different societies that may hold different moral values: our nuclear or extended family; our neighborhood, school, church, or social clubs; our place of employment; our town, state, country, and the international community. Which society is the relevant one? What if I am simultaneously a member of two societies and one allows but the other forbids a certain moral action? What do I do in this case?
Third, normative relativism suffers from a problem known as the reformer’s dilemma. If normative relativism is true, then it is logically impossible for a society to have a virtuous, moral reformer like Jesus Christ, Gandhi, or Martin Luther King Jr. Why? Moral reformers are members of a society who stand outside that society’s code and pronounce a need for reform and change in that code. However, if an act is right if and only if it is in keeping with a given society’s code, then the moral reformer is by definition an immoral person, for his views are at odds with those of his society. Moral reformers must always be wrong because they go against the code of their society. But any view that implies moral reformers are impossible is defective.
Put differently, normative relativism implies that neither cultures (if conventionalism is in view) nor individuals (if subjectivism is in view) can improve their moral code. The only thing they can do is change it. Why? Consider any change in a code from believing, say, racism is right to racism is wrong. How should we evaluate this change? All the normative relativist can say is that, from the perspective of the earlier code, the new principle is wrong and from the perspective of the new code, the old principle is wrong. In short, there has merely been a change in perspective. No sense can be given to the idea that a new code reflects an improvement on an old code because this idea requires a vantage point outside of and above the society’s (or individual’s) code from which to make that judgment. And it is precisely such a vantage point that normative relativism denies.
Some relativists respond to this by claiming that moral reformers are allowed in their view because all moral reformers do is to make explicit what was already implicit but overlooked in the society’s code. Thus, if a society already has a principle that persons ought to be treated equally, then this implicitly contains a prohibition against racism even though it may not be explicitly noted. The moral reformer merely makes this explicit by calling people to think more carefully about their code. Unfortunately, this claim is simply false. Many moral reformers do, in fact, call people to alter their codes. They do not merely make clear what was already contained in preexisting codes.
Other relativists claim that they can allow for the existence of moral reformers by recognizing that societies may contain, implicitly or explicitly, a principle in their code that says, “Follow the advice of moral reformers.” But, again, this response does not work. For one thing, what does it mean to call these reformers “moral” if they do not keep the rest of their society’s code? If, on the other hand, the reformer does keep and believe in the rest of his or her society’s code, how could a change in that code count as a moral improvement? A reformer could have the power to bring change, but how could he or she have the moral authority to do so? And why call the change a moral improvement? Second, moral reformers can exist without any such principle being in a society’s code, so the presence or absence of such a principle is irrelevant. Third, what if there are two or more moral reformers with mutually exclusive agendas operating at the same time? Which one do we follow? Finally, the presence of such a principle in a society’s code would place all the other moral principles in jeopardy, for they would be temporary principles subject to the whims of the next moral reformer. In fact, before someone could honestly follow a principle in their society’s code, they would have to make a good faith effort to make sure a moral reformer had not changed that part of the code that day.
Fourth, some acts are wrong regardless of social conventions. Advocates of this criticism usually adopt the standpoint of epistemological particularism (see chap. 4) and claim that all people can know that some things are wrong, such as torturing babies for fun, stealing as such, greed as such, without first requiring criteria for knowing how it is that they do, in fact, know such things. Thus an act (e.g., torturing babies for fun) can be wrong even if society says it is right, and an act can be right even if society says it is wrong. In fact, an act can be right or wrong even if society says nothing whatever about that act.
Fifth, it is difficult to see how one society could be justified in morally blaming another society in certain cases. According to normative relativism, one should act in keeping with his society’s code and others should act in keeping with their societies’ codes. If Smith does an act that is right in his code but wrong in mine, how can I criticize his act as wrong?
One could respond to this objection by pointing out that society A may have in its code the principle that one should criticize acts of, say, murder, regardless of where they occur. So members of A could criticize such acts in other societies. But such a rule further reveals the inconsistency in normative relativism. Given this rule and the fact that normative relativism is true and embraced by members of A, those in A seem to be in the position of holding that members of B ought to murder (since their code says it is right) and I ought to criticize members of B because my code says I should. Thus I criticize members of B as immoral and at the same time hold that their acts should have been done. Further, why should members of B care about what members of A think? After all, if normative relativism is true, there is nothing intrinsically right about the moral views of society A.
2.2.3 Metaethical Relativism
A third version of ethical relativism is called metaethical relativism. According to normative relativism, cultures A and B mean the same thing by moral terms of appraisal such as right and wrong. Relativism does not enter into the picture at the level of conceptual meaning, but at the level of judgment as to what counts as right and wrong. In this view, two societies can genuinely differ over the moral worth of some action or practice.
However, according to metaethical relativism (also called conceptual relativism), the meanings of moral terms of appraisal are themselves relative. Put metaphysically, there is no such property as goodness or rightness. Rather, goodness or rightness is a relation between an act and a society. Put linguistically, the statement “X is right” is shorthand for the statement “X is right for society A.” The very meaning of right (and other moral terms) is relative to a particular culture.
Metaethical relativism is even more radical than normative relativism. It suffers from some of the same problems that were raised against normative relativism—problems of defining a society and determining the relevant society for the act and agent, the reformer’s dilemma, and the fact that some acts are intuitively wrong regardless of what societies mean by right and wrong.
Metaethical relativism also suffers from an additional objection that makes it highly implausible. If metaethical relativism is true, then it is impossible for two societies to even have a moral difference. Suppose society A holds that “murder is right” and B holds that “murder is wrong.” According to metaethical relativism, these two statements are incomplete translations. What is really being said by A is “What counts as murder-to-us is right-to-us”; what is said by B is “What counts as murder-to-us is wrong-to-us.” In this case, no moral dispute is occurring, for both statements could be true. Societies A and B equivocate regarding the meaning of murder, right, and wrong. Now any moral theory that rules out the possibility of cross-cultural moral conflict appears to be mistaken, for it is a basic feature of the moral life that, at least occasionally, societies do in fact differ. In fact, some fail in their ethical duties (e.g., Hitler and the Nazis). Thus moral statements do not mean what metaethical relativists tell us they mean.
2.2.4 Ethical Skepticism
A fourth thesis often associated with ethical relativism is ethical skepticism. This is the view that no one’s ethical beliefs are true, or even if they are, no one is ever in a position to know that they are true. There are two main versions of ethical skepticism: an epistemological version and an ontological one. The epistemological version does not state that there are no objective moral values that are true; it merely holds that even if such values exist, we can never know what they are. The ontological version of ethical skepticism claims that there is no moral knowledge because there are simply no objective moral truths to be known. We will not look specifically at the ontological version of ethical skepticism except to note that there are two main reasons why someone could hold it. First, someone could hold it because of one’s ethical views in general. Someone could embrace ontological ethical skepticism because that person is a normative or metaethical relativist, since both deny that moral principles have objective truth values or meanings. Similarly, one could hold it because one was a noncognitivist in metaethics (see chap. 21). Second, someone could hold the view because of his or her position regarding what it means to exist. For example, someone could hold that everything that exists is composed of matter and since values are not composed of matter, then they cannot exist. Theories of existence and other related metaphysical themes are studied in part three of this text.
The epistemological version of ethical skepticism is usually embraced because one’s overall theory of epistemology (see part two) does not leave room for moral knowledge. For example, one could embrace skepticism in general, including moral skepticism. Or one could hold to a strict form of empiricism—a statement P is knowable if and only if it can be verified by one of the five senses—and go on to claim that moral knowledge is not empirically verifiable.
Three things can be said against ethical skepticism. First, one could adopt the standpoint of particularism and claim that it is self-evidently true that some things are simply right or wrong—mercy as such is a virtue; rape as such is wrong. The skeptic could respond that this claim is question-begging. He could ask us how we know these things are wrong. The particularist could reply that one does not need a criterion that tells us how we know the above claims before we are rationally entitled to make them. Further, we have more grounds for believing that mercy as such is a virtue than we have for believing that ethical skepticism is true. Thus the burden of proof seems to be on the skeptic in this case.
A second problem with ethical skepticism is this. It often happens that the philosophical reasons that motivate ethical skepticism in the first place turn out to be self-refuting. A statement is self-refuting if it falsifies itself and thus cannot be true. The statements “I do not exist,” “There are no truths whatever,” “I cannot utter a sentence in English” (uttered in English) are all self-refuting. Sometimes ethical skepticism is an outgrowth of views, like strict empiricism, that are self-refuting if one claims to know them. The empiricist principle stated above cannot itself be verified by the senses and thus is unknowable by its own standards.
Finally, if ethical skepticism is true, one cannot recommend any moral behavior whatever, including toleration of different moral opinions or even the alleged moral obligation to be skeptical. One cannot deny the existence or knowability of moral “oughts” in one breath and affirm a moral “ought” in the next breath; at least one cannot do this and remain consistent.
2.2.5 Combinatorial Relativism
A different form of relativism is called combinatorial relativism because it involves a combination of absolutism and relativism. To understand this position, we need to make a distinction between a formal and a material moral principle. A formal principle states necessary conditions for the thing in question and gives the structure of that thing. It can be likened to the mold used to form a statue. It provides the necessary structure for what that statue will be like, but by itself it is not a statue. A material principle states a sufficient condition for the thing in question and gives its content. The material principle is like the content you pour into the mold to get the statue. The whole statue is a combination of its formal and material principle.
Here is another illustration. The formal principle of justice states that equals ought to be treated equally and unequals ought (or at least may) be treated unequally. This is true as far as it goes, but it gives no material content, no specification of the respect by which people may be treated unequally. Different answers to this question constitute different material principles of justice: to each an equal share (egalitarianism), to each according to need (Marxism), to each according to individual effort or merit (libertarianism), to each according to social contribution (utilitarianism). The formal principle of justice states necessary conditions for any further specification of a complete principle of justice. It provides the mold into which various material principles of justice, various contents, are poured.
Now one of the main purposes of a moral rule is that it serve as an action guide. It must be specific enough to specify for us what actions we are and are not to do. Thus adequate moral rules must be combinations of formal principles (e.g., pursue the good and avoid the evil, respect persons) and material principles (e.g., one way to respect persons is to tell them the truth). Formal principles alone lack the substance necessary to serve as action guides.
Combinatorial relativism is the view that combines a formal principle, taken as a moral absolute, with a material principle that is taken to be relative. For example, some versions of combinatorial relativism state that we ought to respect creatures with biographical lives, or that we have a duty to pursue the good life and to allow others to do the same, or we have a duty not to harm others. Note that these principles, as stated, are formal principles only. Combinatorial relativists take them to be absolute formal principles, that is, principles that are objectively true and binding without exception. However, as they stand, they do not give enough content to qualify as action guides because the terms biographical lives, the good life, and harm, as used by combinatorial relativists, do not have the content necessary to give the principles substance. When material content is given to these notions by combinatorial relativists, the resulting action guides become relative to the values, interests, and desires of each individual. For example, a “biographical life” is the sum of one’s aspirations, goals, desires, plans, and so on that are considered worthwhile from the individual’s own personal standpoint. “The good life” is the notion of happiness and flourishing that each individual freely, autonomously chooses for himself or herself. And a “harm,” in this context, is whatever would count as a loss for an individual from his or her own point of view.
The main problem with combinatorial relativism is that it collapses into individual subjectivism. Why? Because the action guide formed by giving material content (what it is to have biographical life, to pursue the good life, to be harmed) to the formal principle (pursue the good life, don’t harm others) is relativized to individual subjective preferences. Thus combinatorial relativism suffers from the objections that can be raised against individual normative relativism. For example, there is no room in combinatorial relativism to value objectively some understandings of the good life over others. Thus a person who freely chooses to spend his life pushing a wooden block around the sidewalk has as much of a life of flourishing as does the person like Mother Teresa, who freely chooses to devote her life to Jesus Christ and the service of the poor and needy. However, some forms of “the good life” are better than others, and, indeed, some choices of “the good life” (e.g., one devoted to self-mutilation and narcissism) are bad forms of life. The simple fact is that some lifestyles are objectively more valuable than others, and some lifestyles are actually worthless even if they are chosen freely. Combinatorial relativism does not leave room for this fact and this counts against it.
2.2.6 The Principle of Tolerance
Finally, the principle of tolerance is often associated with the debate about relativism in the following way: it is often thought that the principle is implied by relativism but is at odds with some form of absolutism because the latter is dogmatic and judgmental and the former is more tolerant in orientation. In order to evaluate this claim, we need to get clear on what the principle of tolerance is. Actually, it has been defined in different ways, but two senses can be distinguished. According to the classical sense of the principle of tolerance, a person holds that his own moral views are true and those of his opponent are false. But he still respects his opponent as a person and his right to make a case for his views. Thus someone has a duty to tolerate a different moral view, not in the sense of thinking it is morally correct, but quite the opposite, in the sense that a person will continue to value and respect one’s opponent, to treat him with dignity, to recognize his right to argue for and propagate his ideas, and so forth. Strictly speaking, on the classic view, one tolerates persons, not their ideas. In this sense, even though someone disapproves of another’s moral beliefs and practices, he or she will not inappropriately interfere with them. However, it is consistent with this view that a person judges his opponent’s views to be wrong and dedicates himself to doing everything morally appropriate to counteract those views, such as using argument and persuasion. It should be clear that the classic sense of tolerance is really an absolutist position and is inconsistent with normative and metaethical relativism and ethical skepticism. If a person does not hold another position to be morally false, what is there to tolerate? Surely, it is not just the fact that one doesn’t like the view in question, but that he judges it mistaken.
The modern version of tolerance, popular in the general culture, goes beyond the classical version in claiming that one should not even judge that other people’s viewpoints are wrong. How does this view square with relativism? It is not at all clear. For one thing, this principle of tolerance does not follow from cultural relativism. From the fact that cultures differ in basic ethical judgments, no moral duties whatever follow. Second, normative relativism implies that one ought to be tolerant if the principle of tolerance is in that person’s social code and one ought to be intolerant if the principle of intolerance is in that person’s social code. So the morality of tolerance does not clearly follow from normative or metaethical relativism for that matter. Normative relativism does allow for the principle of tolerance, but it also allows for the principle of intolerance in the same way. Combinatorial relativism does, in fact, imply that we ought not to pass judgment on the freely chosen understanding of the good life of others. But since some forms of “the good life” are actually worthless or less valuable than others, this feature of combinatorial relativism is a vice and not a virtue. Finally, the moral duty to be tolerant does not follow from ethical skepticism because no moral duties whatever follow from ethical skepticism. It seems, then, that the modern notion of tolerance is not an easy fit with different versions of relativism, in spite of what many people think.
In sum, the various versions of relativism are extremely problematic. Relativism does not appear to be a defensible moral doctrine, and hence, some form of absolutism would seem to follow. Let us look briefly at the nature of absolutism.
3—Absolutism
3.1 The Nature of Absolutism
What does it mean to claim that some moral principle P is an absolute? There are at least three answers to this question. First, one can mean that P is objectively and unchangingly true irrespective of the beliefs of individuals or cultures. Someone who holds this form of absolutism would embrace one or more of the following: (1) Moral statements have truth values that make no reference to the beliefs of individuals or cultures. (2) There are objectively good/bad arguments for the truth of moral positions people take. (3) Nonmoral facts (e.g., persons exist) and moral facts (irreducibly moral properties like goodness) are relevant to the assessment of the truth value of moral statements. (4) When two moral statements conflict, only one can be true. (5) There is a single true morality. The main thing to keep in mind here is that this first understanding of absolute emphasizes the fact that we discover moral values, we do not merely invent moral beliefs. This is the most fundamental sense of the term used by moral absolutists.
A second understanding of an absolute is as follows. A moral absolute is true and completely exceptionless. This is sometimes expressed by saying that a moral absolute is universalizable: it is equally binding on all people at all times in relevantly similar circumstances. An exception to a moral principle is a case in which that principle normally applies, but for some reason it does not apply in this particular instance. On this understanding of a moral absolute, moral principles have no exceptions.
There are two important issues related to this notion of an absolute. The first one is the question of whether or not the definition of moral terms like lying or suicide are purely descriptive or evaluative. In descriptive definitions of moral terms, the definition merely describes a certain behavior without including a moral evaluation (positive or negative) as part of the definition. Lying could be defined as intentionally deceiving another. Suicide could be defined as “directly terminating one’s life regardless of the circumstances.” By contrast, a more widely held view implies that moral definitions are essentially evaluative definitions—they include a positive or negative evaluation as part of moral definitions themselves. Thus lying is defined as intentionally deceiving another in an immoral way. Suicide could be defined as immorally and directly terminating one’s own life.
How are these different approaches to moral terms related to the second sense of a moral absolute? In this way: if moral terms are defined in purely descriptive ways, then it is hard to avoid the existence of exceptions to moral rules because in this case, faking in basketball, bluffing in a card game, or tricking someone to come to a surprise birthday party would all be cases of lying and therefore exceptions to the rule “Do not lie.” Similarly, a soldier who takes a pill to cause his death to avoid giving away secrets to the enemy, a monk who burns himself in protest, a truck driver who drives off a bridge to his death to avoid hitting children all commit suicide, but these would be morally appropriate exceptions to the rule “Do not commit suicide.” If, on the other hand, we take an evaluative approach to moral definitions, these cases would not be exceptions to their respective moral rules because they would not count as legitimate examples of those rules in the first place. For example, faking in basketball would not be counted as a lie, and the truck driver case would not be counted as a suicide.
A second issue of related importance is the relevance of the exceptionless nature of moral principles to various slippery slope arguments. In one way or another, slippery slope arguments attempt to show someone that if they take a first step, they will find themselves unavoidably heading in the direction of embracing an unacceptable consequence. Slippery slope arguments are often used to shift the burden of proof onto one’s opponent in a debate. There are different types of slippery slope arguments. First, there is a logical slippery slope argument. This argument starts by asserting that practice A is wrong, and it goes on to claim that practice B is similar to practice A in morally relevant ways and that, therefore, practice B is wrong as well. An opponent of capital punishment could use this against an advocate of capital punishment as follows: Practice A (intentionally killing a human being) is wrong. Practice B (capital punishment) is similar to practice A in morally relevant ways, and thus practice B (capital punishment) is wrong.
The main issue in logical slippery slope arguments is whether practices A and B are similar in morally relevant ways. In the example just cited, the advocate of capital punishment could try to show that it is relevantly different from intentionally killing a human being; for example, the former is done by the state against a person guilty of a capital offense, the latter is done by an individual acting on his own against an innocent person. Logical slippery slope arguments are applications to moral debate of the insight that moral principles are exceptionless and universalizable.
There are at least three other types of slippery slope arguments. These arguments can be appropriate, but they are not clearly related to the notion of an absolute as a universalizable principle. First, there is a precedent slippery slope: If practice A is allowed, it will function as a precedent, which will set up a further precedent, and so on, until you reach a point of no return. Once you let the camel’s nose in the tent, there will be no stopping him. For example, some have argued that if we start an affirmative action, quota system of hiring based on factor X (e.g., race), then this will set a precedent for affirmative action based on factor Y (e.g., sexual orientation), then on factor Z, and so on.
Second, there is a sorites slippery slope: A sorites argument (from Greek sōros, meaning “heap”) focuses on paradoxes that arise from minor variations is some situation. For example, one cannot take a single grain of sand and form a large heap of sand by adding one grain to the original, nor can one form a large heap of sand by adding one grain to the twosome formed from the original and the second grain of sand. Generalizing, it would seem that no matter how many single grains of sand are added to form a new whole, one will never arrive at a large heap of sand, yet this is absurd and the paradox needs to be solved. Often, sorites paradoxes are generated by the presence of a vague, variable term (“large heap”) that is hard to make precise in a nonarbitrary way. Likewise, in a moral sorites slippery slope argument, a certain moral practice is characterized by a vague term that is hard to make precise in a nonarbitrary way. In this case, there is no clear cutoff point for when the practice is no longer allowable. For example, some have argued that if we allow the termination of life because that life does not have a “sufficient quality of life” or is not “a meaningful life” or is not a “life with biological worthiness,” then there will be no nonarbitrary way to limit this practice due to the vagueness of the terms in question.
Third, there is a causal slippery slope: practice A is wrong; if practice B is allowed, it will contribute to an increase in practice A, and thus practice B should be forbidden. For example, some argue that child molestation is wrong and that if pornography is allowed, it will lead to an increase in child molestation, and thus pornography should be forbidden.
In sum, the second view of a moral absolute implies that it is a true, universally valid, and exceptionless principle binding on all people at all times in circumstances similar in a morally relevant way. Sometimes this position is called objectivism. Objectivism is sometimes considered a version of absolutism (as we are classifying it), and sometimes it is treated as a rival to absolutism. In that case, the term absolutism is not used for each of the three views we are currently discussing, but rather it is reserved solely for the next view.
A third, more stringent understanding of an absolute is the notion that an absolute is such that it is a true, exceptionless moral principle that has the highest degree of incumbency. In this view, a moral statement only qualifies as an absolute if it cannot be overridden by a more weighty principle. An absolute is like an ace. It can trump (override) all rivals but cannot itself be trumped. Put differently, all moral principles are equally weighty.
It would seem that this understanding of an absolute is too strong. Surely, if a moral statement did have the highest degree of incumbency, it would be an absolute. But we do seem to have absolute (objectively true, exceptionless) duties that can be overridden by more important duties. The notion of weightier and less weighty absolutes is not unintelligible, and in fact it plays an important role in the moral life. To see this, consider what philosophers call a prima facie duty. A prima facie duty is an objectively true, exceptionless moral duty that can be overridden by a weightier duty in a specific instance. When this occurs, the prima facie duty does not disappear, but continues to apply to the specific instance in question and make its presence felt. An exemption to a moral absolute occurs when that absolute is overridden by a weightier duty.
The difference between an exemption and an exception is this. When there is an exemption, the overridden principle continues to apply. With an exception, the excepted principle no longer applies at all. Suppose a professor stipulates that all papers must be handed in exactly on time and gives a due date for the first paper. Suppose, further, that Sally has overriding grounds for getting the paper in late (say, she was seriously ill). If the situation envisioned amounts to an exception to the tardiness rule, then the rule simply vanishes, and Sally starts from scratch with the professor. She could just as easily argue that the paper could be turned in two years or two weeks later because there is no principle of tardiness any longer relevant. It has been set aside. However, if the tardiness rule is exempted in the envisioned situation, then while overridden by Sally’s illness, it still informs the situation and, in this case, grounds the professor’s requirement that the paper be turned in as soon as Sally is well. Arguably, exemptions do happen to moral duties but exceptions do not.
Prima facie duties can be clarified by an illustration. In medical ethics, a number of prima facie moral absolutes are often relevant to ethical dilemmas. Here are some of those principles:
Sometimes these duties can come into conflict and one can override another. For example, a woman at a nursing home can request to forego her kidney dialysis treatments and be allowed to die. Here the principle of autonomy requires us to honor her request, but the principles of nonmaleficence, beneficence, and life preservation require us to deny her request.
Here is another example: On the way to the emergency room, an ambulance nurse was monitoring the vital signs of a thirty-five-year-old man who had just had a heart attack. Suddenly, he asked her if he had undergone a heart attack. Based on her medical knowledge and his anxious state, she knew that if she told him the truth, it would place him at risk. Here the principle of autonomy was conflicting with nonmaleficence and beneficence. She judged that autonomy was a prima facie duty, so she exempted it by changing the subject. This was an exemption, because the principle implies that she needed his informed consent to continue and she did not inform him of what was going on. He asked her again so she told him a half truth by saying that things were going to be fine at the hospital. Finally, he said if she did not answer his question straightforwardly, he would assume that he had a heart attack. At this point the nurse lied to the patient. Regardless of your assessment of her actions, this case illustrates how autonomy was a prima facie duty. Note that even though the nurse exempted it at first, she did so as gently as needed to honor the higher principles of nonmaleficence and beneficence. Autonomy was not excepted (she did not feel free to ignore it altogether), but it was exempted (it continued to make its presence felt even though overridden). If the situation were an exception to autonomy, then the principle would not be applicable and there would be no reason to regard the principle at all.
This third view of an absolute does not recognize the existence of prima facie duties, and for this reason many believe it to be too strong. We have examined three views regarding the nature of a moral absolute. In the process, we have entered into a discussion of cases where, at least on the surface, two or more moral absolutes seem to come into unavoidable conflict. How should we view situations like these? Our discussion of the various understandings of an absolute puts us in a position to understand the differences between three answers to this question.
First, there is unqualified absolutism. This is the view that all moral duties are equally weighty, that the third sense of an absolute above is correct, and thus that there are no prima facie duties. All supposed inescapable moral dilemmas are only apparently unavoidable; there will always be a way to escape the dilemma. The second and third views are called conflicting absolutism (also called the lesser of two evils view) and graded absolutism (also called the greater of two goods view). Both positions accept the existence of prima facie duties and the notion that there are weightier and less weighty duties. Thus advocates of these points of view reject the third understanding of an absolute. Further, both positions believe that genuine moral conflicts occur. However, they differ as to how we should view the action performed in such conflict situations.
For example, take the case of the nurse and heart attack victim above. Both views would most likely say that the nurse should honor beneficence and nonmaleficence over autonomy and honesty in this case. But the conflicting absolutist would say that the nurse who withheld information from (and later lied to) the patient did a moral evil, whereas the graded absolutist would say that the nurse did a morally good act. We cannot undertake an evaluation of these three views here, and each is held by well-informed, well-intentioned thinkers. We note only that light can be shed on this debate by looking at it in view of the third sense of an absolute above. The unqualified absolutist accepts this third sense as adequate, and the conflicting and graded absolutists do not.
3.2 Strategies for Defending the Existence of Moral Absolutes
There are three general strategies for defending the existence of moral absolutes. First, since one must either be a relativist or an absolutist, arguments against relativism count as arguments for absolutism. An absolutist can try to show that the various forms of relativism are inadequate and use this as evidence for absolutism. For example, one can point out that if absolutes are denied, then morally unacceptable and irrational consequences follow. If there are no absolutes, one could argue, then what Hitler and the Nazis did to the Jews was not plain and simply wrong, but only wrong in some lesser, relative sense. If this conclusion is unacceptable, then the premise that led to it (there are no absolutes) must be false.
Second, one can try to show that absolutes are to be expected, given that a certain worldview is judged reasonable. For example, theists or Platonists (those who hold that objective properties and propositions, including moral ones, exist whether or not they come from some divine being) could cite the fact that their worldview has this result: absolute morality is at home in their conceptions of the world and is to be expected. On the other hand, physicalistic or naturalistic worldviews labor to justify moral absolutes in a way not necessary for theism or Platonism, because objective moral properties and propositions that refer to human beings are odd and surprising within their worldview. This type of argument moves the debate to the level of general worldview and the relationship between a worldview and objective morality.
Finally, one can seek to justify belief in the existence of moral absolutes by appealing to fundamental, basic, moral intuitions. We have already had occasion to see examples of this strategy. The moral relativist can respond that such appeals are question-begging. The issue boils down to different views of the burden of proof regarding moral relativism (see chap. 4). The absolutist believes that there are more grounds for believing these basic intuitions than there are for believing that relativism is true. The mere fact that it is logically possible that he or she is wrong is not sufficient to grant victory to the relativist. The relativist holds the opposite view and claims that the possibility of error is sufficient to justify abandonment of the claim to know that certain moral propositions are objectively true.
Our discussion of absolutes provides a fitting occasion to mention the role of intuitions in ethical theory. Philosopher Saul Kripke once remarked that it was difficult to see what could be said more strongly for a view than that it squared with one’s basic, reflective intuitions. Kripke’s remark reminds us that in philosophy, ethical theory included, intuitions play an important role. What is an intuition? The philosophical use of intuition does not mean a mere hunch or a prereflective expression of, say, a moral attitude. Nor is it a way of playing it safe, as when one says, “My intuition tells me that P is true but I really don’t know, and if you chose to accept P, you do so at your own risk.” While philosophers differ over a precise definition, a common usage defines an intuition as an immediate, direct awareness or acquaintance with something. An intuition is a mode of awareness—sensory, intellectual, or otherwise—in which something seems or appears to be directly present to one’s consciousness. For example, one can have a sensory intuition of a table or an intellectual intuition of a conceptual truth, such as 2 + 2 = 4.
Intuitions are not infallible, but they are prima facie justified. That is, if one carefully reflects on something, and a certain viewpoint intuitively seems to be true, then one is justified in believing that viewpoint in the absence of overriding counterarguments (which will ultimately rely on alternative intuitions). Furthermore, an appeal to intuitions does not rule out the use of additional arguments that add further support to that appeal. One can claim to know that a brown chair is present by appealing to a basic, sensory intuition of being appeared to in a brown, chair-type way. But one could also support the claim that there is a chair by further arguments; for example, the testimony of others or the fact that if we postulate a chair in the room, then we have an explanation for why people walk around a certain spatial location where the chair is postulated. Similarly, an appeal to intuitions in ethics is not a claim to infallibility or a substitute for further arguments.
In ethics, appeals to intuition occur in four main areas. First, there are specific cases or judgments (e.g., Dr. Jones ought not to lie to the patient in room ten tomorrow morning). Second, there are moral rules and principles (e.g., promises should be kept, persons ought to be respected). Third, there are general, normative theories (e.g., deontological theories are to be preferred to utilitarian theories or vice versa; see chaps. 23–24). Finally, there are background philosophical or religious factual beliefs (e.g., a human has a property of intrinsic value). Again, such appeals to intuition claim prima facie justification and do not rule out further argumentation. Appeals to reflective, considered intuitions occur throughout one’s intellectual life, and ethics is no exception, nor is the debate about relativism and absolutism.
Chapter Summary
Factual statements describe what is the case, and value statements prescribe what ought to be the case. There are six different theses that, in one way or another, have been associated with relativism. Each were stated and criticized. Cultural or descriptive relativism is the view that cultures have basic ethical differences. Normative or ethical relativism asserts that one ought to follow his or her society’s code and that societies differ in the content of their codes. Metaethical or conceptual relativism says that the meanings of moral terms are themselves relative to culture. Ethical skeptics assert that moral truths do not exist and, even if they do, no one knows what they are. Combinatorial relativism combines an absolute, formal principle with a relative, material principle to yield a relative action guide. The classical principle of tolerance was an absolute, and the modern principle does not clearly follow from any form of relativism.
Ethical absolutists disagree with moral relativists and assert the existence of absolutes. A moral absolute has three different meanings: (1) it is objectively true; (2) it is exceptionless; and (3) it is a principle with the highest degree of incumbency. Most absolutists (also called objectivists) accept the first two principles but reject the third one and embrace prima facie duties. The three views about conflict situations are unqualified, conflicting, and graded absolutism. Only the first view rejects prima facie duties.
Absolutes can be defended by (1) arguing against relativism; (2) showing that it is at home in a Platonic or theistic worldview but not in a naturalistic one, and claiming the superiority of the former over the latter; (3) appealing to intuitions.
Checklist of Basic Terms and Concepts
absolutism
basic ethical disagreement
combinatorial relativism
conflicting absolutism (or lesser of two evils view)
conventionalism
cultural or descriptive relativism
description
descriptive definitions of moral terms
ethical skepticism (ontological and epistemological versions)
evaluative definitions of moral terms
exception
exemption
fact
formal principle
graded absolutism (or greater of two goods view)
highest degree of incumbency
intuition
material principle
metaethical or conceptual relativism
natural moral law
nonvalue or “mere” facts
normative or ethical relativism
objectivism
prescription
prima facie duty
principle of autonomy
principle of beneficence
principle of honesty
principle of life preservation
principle of nonmaleficence
principle of tolerance (classical and modern)
slippery slope arguments (logical, precedent, sorites, causal)
subjectivism
three different sources for moral disagreements
universalizable
unqualified absolutism
value
value facts