The Moral Commons
The Institute for Global Ethics recently ran an article I think of much importance for those concerned with seeking a common morality. It is entitled “Daschle and the Moral Commons” and was written by Rushworth M. Kidder. Following is an excerpt from it:
To see why this idea of the commons matters, go back to ecologist Garrett Hardin’s famous 1968 article, “The Tragedy of the Commons.” Picture, Hardin wrote, a pasture free and open to all. Each herdsman understands that overuse would eventually destroy the pasture. But each also knows that if he himself added even one additional animal, the personal benefit would be significant. The damage from that one animal, spread widely among his fellow herdsmen, would be incremental and unremarkable. But the benefit of raising another head would flow solely to him, and it would be recognizable and immediate. If rational self-interest were all that mattered, Hardin concluded, any herdsman would add as many animals as possible, precipitating a tragic destruction of the commons.
These days, there aren’t a lot of physical commons left. Most public goods — oceans, atmosphere, wilderness, airwaves — have become regulated lest, under Hardin’s sentence, they be destroyed by perfectly rational overuse. But we still retain some powerful moral commons. We still possess spaces in which the moral law reigns supreme, unhampered by rule or regulation and open to anyone who wants to use them. For most citizens, these moral spaces embrace some of our deepest and most sacrosanct concerns: whom we choose to love, how we elect to worship, where we decide to live, whether we will have children, what kind of education we’ll pursue. On these matters, the law is silent.
As with all other commons, the moral commons require constant vigilance to maintain. Aristotle sounded that warning. “That which is common to the greatest number,” he wrote, “has the least care bestowed upon it. Everyone thinks chiefly of his own, hardly at all of the common interest; and only when he is himself concerned as an individual. For besides other considerations, everybody is more inclined to neglect the duty which he expects another to fulfill.”
Carelessness, neglect, a self-focused individuality — those are tough charges from the old philosopher. That’s not what we thought leadership — from Daschle or anyone else — was all about. His story gave us a window into a world in which, taken to its logical extreme, voluntary tax compliance slips away, no moral standard exists to temper rational self-interest, and the moral commons shrink into mere regulation. We didn’t want to be led down that cow path. No wonder his case still bothers us.
For those who espouse a moral relativism, here is a passage from Yearnings, a new book by Rabbi Irwin Kula. He comments:
At the same time, we must be careful not to simply say that since everything is partially true, nothing really matters, as if there aren’t standards of right or wrong. Yes, in every view there is a partial truth. But not every view is equally true. There are standards of right and wrong, gradations of truth. I’ve heard so many people use the phrase “This is my truth” or “that’s your truth” as a way to defuse conflict and stifle discussion. This relativism is just lazy absolutism. It makes the claim that in effect we each have our own absolute truth, and so anything goes; why fight the fight? This spineless and limp relativism is as frustrating as hostile know-it-all absolutism. Both halt the search for truth.
It’s not that we shouldn’t have opinions and perceptions, passionate feelings and beliefs. We should argue with and criticize those views we believe to be wrong. No idea or insight should be either automatically accepted or totally dismissed. Even extreme opinions have an important role in society: They probe the middle, ensuring neither moral inflexibility nor flabbiness. When we engage in serious dialogue, within ourselves and with each other, our worlds expand; our truths are refined, and we can incorporate the truths of others, finding new positions and even shared ethical visions.
What Rabbi Kula is referring to is “our moral commons.” He says that his mother taught him “When you’ve got an answer, it’s time to find better questions.” His words are important to me, an old philosopher who has questioned every sacred tradition in religion, government, education, and ethics to find a more common truth. Kula says that there is something liberating and expansive about seeking better questions, looking seriously at others’ points of view and taking care not to destroy their feelings for we all share in the moral commons. He says, “The search for truth is not about letting go; it’s about going deeper. The goal is not reaching a single realization but living the process of realizing again and again…Many think skepticism is paralyzing, hopeless, cynical; but it’s the opposite. Skepticism inspires us to know more. Skepticism can be revelatory. When we both hold and question our truths we become lifelong learners rather than absolute knowers—as well as more interesting and much easier people to be with. Not seduced by certainty, we can be open to the truth.”
I believe these are powerful words. In my 69 years, I have been labeled as an agnostic, atheist, and skeptic. Many absolutists in my church will have little to do with me and that’s okay too. Conversation across the ocean of differences we bring to the table requires an open mind, but it also necessitates people who educate themselves on ideas, issues, and current events. When we speak from ignorance and stake our claim to absolute truth on that foundation, we are bound to seal ourselves off from those with different views and ideas.
The moral commons that we share necessitates our respect for all ideas and viewpoints, with limits: we must protect not to violate the dignity and integrity of others and bend in the wind of change so that all views are heard, even those that we think stupid and horrible. As Kula said, “Life will be an ongoing act of creating, revealing, and discovering. Each person, each culture, each religion has part of the truth; none as it all.”
Those who espouse political correctness will usually commit the “liberty fallacy” believing all views are of equal merit. Those who claim a personal right to put their views on the table of dialogue but say, “These are my truths and because they are mine and I have a right to believe them, you can criticize them” are committing the “privacy fallacy.” An open dialogue requires that we argue and criticize those views that we believe to be wrong; on the other hand, no idea should be either automatically accepted or totally dismissed. Kula says that even extreme opinions “probe the middle, ensuring neither moral inflexibility nor flabbiness.”
