Why I am not a moral relativist

This summer I read more history than I normally do (specifically, A World Lit Only By Fire by William Manchester, portions of The Story of Civilization by Will and Ariel Durant, and portions of Black Lamb and Grey Falcon by Rebecca West, all excellent reads), and these all stressed the repetition of history, how if we were better students of the past, we would often have much better foresight and wisdom concerning the present and future. Likewise, in the realm of thought, generation after generation struggles through many of the same issues as those who came before. It can be frustrating and a bit depressing if you enjoy tackling controversial issues. In reading or just puttering around thinking (as I am wont to do) I have many times arrived at the answer to some problem that had long perplexed me. In excitement I run and tell somebody, generally my wife or (prior) someone else in my family or both. Sometimes I’m shot down right there: “Oh yeah, I’ve come to that conclusion myself.” Other times I go through the rest of the day pleased about my new result only to see the same result much more concisely worded in whatever book I am reading that evening, written by someone long dead. Indeed, this pastime is itself a repetitive history that I should acknowledge.

So now I am trying to do just that. I bring up the issue, one, because it is interesting, and two because it directly applies to the subject I am about to address. I have finally admitted that any ideas I can think of have already been thought of, at least, in the realm of thoughts that matter. In fact, on the issue of relativism, the first contrary argument goes all the way back to Plato more than 2000 years ago. But as the general public does not often read Plato, every generation needs people to restate the same old ideas in the same old way. (It would be foolhardy to think that, though most ideas are old, my particular expression of them is wildly new and exciting.) Thus, all I undertake in the next few blogs is to restate some old ideas in the hope that some people may read this who have not encountered the ideas before.

So let’s begin, shall we?

According to the OED (Oxford English Dictionary), ethical (or moral) relativism is defined as follows:

“the view that there are no universal or objective ethical standards; that each culture develops the ethical standards that it finds acceptable and that these cannot be judged by the ethical standards of another culture”

Relativism is particularly popular today as a manifestation of tolerance and political correctness. These are all well and good if they are meant to have people treat each other with dignity and respect. They are no different, in essence, from the Golden Rule. However, in the popular mind these ideas seem to have been conflated with the notion that just because everyone deserves respect, that everyone’s ideas are just as good as everyone else’s. This is obviously flawed, even disregarding ethical questions. If someone holds it to be true that 2+2=5, his idea of truth is simply untrue. We who know that 2+2=4 should still treat him with dignity and respect, but we should also strive to show him what is objectively true. This problem arises because we try to take principles from one area of human life (how to treat one another) and apply them to unrelated areas (defining the nature of truth). Another example is taking the scientific theory of evolution and applying it to philosophical topics like the meaning of life. Given that we have already seen evolution misapplied with Herbert Spencer’s ideas of Social Darwinism, which led to eugenics, we should really know better than to repeat our mistakes. So both logic and history show us that we should not so quickly apply our ideas of tolerance to our understanding of truth.

Now let’s apply the same thought process to ethics. If everyone’s ideas are equally valid, then we must admit that Hitler, Stalin, Milosevic, and Ceausescu were all justified in their deeds, so long as they thought their actions were fine. However even if these few had truly evil intentions and knew their actions were morally wrong, what about the average German soldier in WWII? If any of them were deceived by Hitler’s rhetoric and actually believed extermination of the Jews and gypsies and many others was good for humanity, then under relativism, the soldiers who carried out the extermination were not culpable. They believed it as truth that their race was superior, and therefore they exterminated the Jews. It was truth for them, so how could it be wrong? This, of course, would not sit well with many people, and perhaps the relativist would counter that in times of war, situations are so extreme and moral problems so vague, that relativism is unjustly debunked through them. Though this is false, I will offer other arguments instead.

So let’s consider moral relativism from another perspective. Personally, I find the argument for self-refutation the most convincing. As I referred to earlier, this argument is originally credited to Plato (from Theaetetus), though many have reapplied it over the years. Self-refutation just means that relativism is inherently contradictory, and that is what I try to depict in the following discussion.

For the sake of illustration let’s look at a brief discussion very similar to many I have had with friends of mine who are moral relativists:

Me – “I believe there is such a thing as absolute truth, that there are truths objectively true, regardless of upbringing, culture, or anything else.”
Relativist – “I disagree. All truth is relative to culture, upbringing, and individual experience. No one person can say his conception of truth is better than anyone else’s conception of truth.”

So the Relativist says all truth is relative to a set of things, and they could be anything. The point is that there is some framework for each individual and truth is only relative to that framework. But, as Plato pointed out, if what the Relativist says is TRUE, then he has asserted that there is at least one statement that is absolutely true relative to all frameworks. That is, the whole notion of relativism relies on the absolute truth of the statement uttered by the Relativist. If his statement is not true, obviously he cannot believe in his own theory. However, if his theory is correct then he has proved himself wrong, for he just stated that nothing has to be true relative to all frameworks.

Another way of thinking about it is that according to the Relativist, my statement about absolute truth is just as valid as his statement. He thinks that all frameworks are just as good as every other, but it is impossible for my framework to be on equal footing with his. Either there is absolute truth or there isn’t. Both of us cannot be correct at the same time. This, however, is a problem because according to the Relativist, it is not only possible but also essential that both he and I are equally correct. Therefore, since both of our claims cannot be simultaneously true, although his claim demands it be so, his claim contradicts itself and must therefore be false.

Most relativists are likely to reply that there must be an exception for their prime thesis, but if we make an exception here, why should we not make other exceptions? Making this one exception takes all solidity out of the argument and lets the whole philosophy morph into whatever it wills. In order for a philosophy to be coherent, we mustn’t make exceptions about its primal notion. Obviously, no exception needs to be made for the absolutist’s theory because it does not try, as a matter of thesis, to describe what is absolutely true; it simply says that there is absolute truth, and this does not contradict itself.

Well, although I intended to address some other issues, I believe this post is long enough. In closing, my entire argument can be summed up in one pithy statement by some British philosopher whose name I don’t recall:

“If someone tells you there is no such thing as truth, he’s asking you not to believe him, so don’t.”