Nonetheless,
if it were within our competence, we would happily prostrate
ourselves before any means or proof that would demonstrate that
life is indeed and in deed meaningful. In that self-same spirit,
if I could I would prove to you that painting X is not only
beautiful, but more beautiful than painting Y. But I can’t.
Kant, in his monumental Critique of Judgment, challenged
himself to produce the necessary criteria that would vouchsafe
the rationalization of aesthetic judgments, knowing in advance
that he would fall short of that lofty goal because it is impossible
to prove or universalize subjective judgments or taste. How
can I prove, as in 2 + 2 = 4, that Brahms’s Piano Quintet
in F minor (Opus 34) is more beautiful than Ravi Shankar’s
(endless) Raga in G minor if the listener loves and is exalted
by the latter and rendered sclerotic by the former?
So
if we begrudgingly concede that it lies outside our ability
to prove that life is meaningful, does it follow that right
and wrong (good and evil) are destined to remain immune to the
ratiocination that would keep them from falling into the clutches
of subjective judgment, of mere opinion? Life would be so much
simpler if we could categorically state (rationally demonstrate)
that to murder is wrong, instead of having to make do with the
more relative (subjective) ‘in my view’ or ‘according
to written law’ to murder is wrong. And simpler yet if
we could prove that God exists and that He proscribes murder.
That
we are ‘apparently’ unable to supply a sure handle
for decisions that presume rectitude and fitness in matters
that bear on crime and punishment and life and death should,
in theory, be a major cause of concern regarding both the nomological
(science of law and legislation) and sociological implications.
We
observe that our laws and commandments -- the overworked offspring
of reason and theology -- vary from culture to culture because
they are subjective mental constructs; and even where a particular
law enjoys universal approbation, the argument of consensus
falls rudely short of the criteria required of absolute proof.
As much as we wish it were otherwise, in their effects and operations,
right and wrong are ‘relative’ to culture and the
particularities of circumstance, and against this obdurate cliffside
the finest jurisprudence in the world has no purchase.
Unless,
of course, we have been looking far and wide instead of within
our own experience for the principle that would provide for
the existence of absolute right and wrong.
In 1885, the
philosopher Nietzsche dared to ask what lies beyond good and
evil. He could have just as easily asked what, if anything,
is prior to good and evil.
In
order for good and evil or right and wrong to exist, they will
have already been identified as distinct from each other consequent
to what is unlike in their natures. If they were equal or self-identifying
there would only be one word for them, and there would be no
choice. One cannot choose between identical objects. In what
is often a sacred gesture, we assign names to things in recognition
of their differences which come to our attention through our
significant encounters with them: the Inuit have assigned no
fewer than a hundred names to account for the various textures
and densities of snow and ice they have to negotiate in their
daily life. Without differentiation, choice would disappear,
just as the concept of temperature would disappear if it were
constantly 25 Celsius (a condition that suits this winter-weary
Canadian just fine).
What
makes a choice either categorically right or wrong is its relationship
to the élan vital, identified by Henri Bergson
as the irrepressible life force that is imbedded in all living
creatures. Choices that vitally bear on the life force can be
characterized as either life-affirming or life-negating. Which
doesn’t mean that in the course of daily life there won’t
be any number of choices that do not bear directly on the life
force and are therefore not subsumed by right and wrong: choosing
a grapefruit over an orange is a matter of taste and not ethics.
And since I cannot command myself to fall in love or command
love, Kant is correct in placing inclination outside the sphere
of ethics. But I can certainly choose not to act on an inclination,
especially if I deem it harmful.
Even
though Kant did not uncover the biological basis for right and
wrong, his famous categorical imperative -- a restatement of
the biblical injunction “do unto what others what you
would have them do unto you,”-- intuits the primordial
relationship between right and wrong (choice) and the life force,
and more importantly offers both the skeptic and non-believer
a foundation for their ethics. In Critique of Practical
Reason he writes: “act only to that maxim which you
could at the same time will that it should become universal
law.”
Since
the life force is a biological construct, it stands to reason
that when an activity comes to be viewed as either positive
or negative in its relationship to it (the life force), one
cannot decide to suspend judgment on that said activity (distinct
from refusing to act on the judgment) because right and wrong
are a priori coexistent with the life force, meaning
prior to experience. That one shouldn’t smoke is not an
opinion nor is it an injunction simply because science and medicine
have entered as fact into the public domain the negative effects
of smoking on health. Smoking is wrong because it stands in
negation of the life force. And to the smoker’s argument
that he enjoys smoking more than longevity, and that smoking
is merely one of many popular life-negating activities, the
pursuit of which lends support to Freud’s theory that
man harbours a universal death wish, we must caution ourselves
from confusing the latter with the pleasure principle which
is often in conflict with the life force. But as it concerns
smoking, gambling and drinking and their compelling pleasurable
effects, it is incorrect to characterize them as enslavements
or uncontrollable compulsions (said of addiction) since they
are choices.
Conscience,
from the Latin com (with) and scire (know),
means ‘with-knowledge.’ Conscience is an indispensable
adjunct of ethics. Once I become aware of having a conscience,
I can rightly choose to evolve it or wrongly choose to ignore
it. A muscle like any other that requires regular exercise if
it’s not to turn flabby, conscience allows us to productively
engage in matters of right and wrong (good and evil). If I am
witting to the fact that I am harming myself or others or my
environment, conscience determines to what degree, extent and
duration.
To
the question: What is beyond, and, by implication, antecedent
to good and evil? The
answer is good and evil. As soon as the world appears to consciousness
there is right and wrong, which is prior to written, subjective
law. And concerning those actions that are manifestly life-affirming
or life-negating in relation to the life force, Kant says we
can only choose what is right because reason commands it. And
when we choose wrongly, it is always consequent to actions that
force the conclusion that we have not fully understood what
reason commands. Has the genuinely remorseful thief existentially
understood that it’s wrong to steal if he continues to
steal? Have I understood what it means to be charitable if I
don’t give? If I continue to drive to the corner store
for milk when I could walk or bike have I truly understood the
negative effects of carbon dioxide and monoxide emissions on
health?
also
by Robert J. Lewis:
1-800-Philosophy
The Eclectic Switch
Philosophical
Time
What
is Beauty?
In
Defense of Heidegger
Hijackers,
Hookers and Paradise Now
Death
Wish 7 Billion
My
Gypsy Wife Tonight
On
the Origins of Love & Hate
Divine
Right and the Unrevolted Masses
Cycle
Hype or Genotype
The
Genocide Gene
