Morality is a rather strange thing.
The grand discussion regarding what constitutes a morally good person has been the protagonist on a bloody stage where thousands of years of ethical warfare, personal philosophies, familial values and cultural norms are pinned against one another — more often than not, with the unspoken goal of ultimately, logically destroying the other.
Whether we realize it or not, everyone has an opinion on what it means to be good. Accordingly, we all acknowledge in the subtext of our conversations that these ideas on occasion differ from one another, but rarely do we go out of our way to dig deeper into the definitions.
The problem of doing so is readily apparent in adult human interactions (though, naturally, there are always exceptions). That is, if your idea of moral goodness is stricter than that of who you are talking to, you may come across as a prude in their eyes while in your view they are worthy of being judged for their actions. Why, the very act of disagreeing with what you deem to be good is bad, no? Should you correct this misguided individual or let them be in their ignorance? Worse yet, are they perhaps deliberately evil?
Of course, this is a very volatile line of thought. Indeed, through human history some people have developed methods with which to ignore moral differences when necessary, but in the end, the differences permeate. They generate friction in ethical and pragmatic argumentation. If you cannot agree on the most simple of moral principles, can you truly work together and reach an apt conclusion with someone?
Simply put, it’s uncomfortable to come to terms with the fact that you do not share identical moral perspectives with people in your life, and yet, it is also inevitable that it will be the case. The experiences throughout our lives, for better or worse, are unique to us. They are ours alone and we have thus created a personalized moral framework through which we justify and condemn actions. Therefore, in order to not go mad, to make sense of a world with no dictated absolute morality, some of us have cloaked ourselves behind our very own equations for goodness. Conclusively, it is we who, consciously or not, choose to believe what is benevolent and what is evil. There is no tangible object, no physically manifested badness to point at and scream at and seek to avoid or destroy. It is only a concept, an ideology, a feeling. Nothing but a strange idea.
None of the previously mentioned is particularly Earth-shattering. It is just the logical outcome of ambiguous morality in social interaction. Yet, there is one consequence of this moral friction that has wrapped itself around my brain and heart alike. And the more I get to know people from across the globe with differing backgrounds, this realization becomes ever more impossible to ignore. That is, I must acknowledge and work around the moral privilege that has been bestowed upon me since my birth.
With my moral privilege, I refer to how I, by no particular effort of my own other than the mere miracle of my existence, have received a conventionally “good” moral upbringing. In my youth, my parents, both of whom are “good,” taught me many lessons about morality in this world. I must say please and I must say thank you. I must help those in need when possible. I must follow the golden rule — to treat others how I wish to be treated. In my youth, I was introduced to a school with a “good” environment. I learned about respect and responsibility. I learned to turn the other cheek against those that hurt me. I learned that benevolence and forgiveness are worthy of praise while revenge and greed are pointless and pitiful. In my youth, I was surrounded by “good” people. We never committed crimes. We never sought violence. We never wished genuine ill on others. All in all, with the moral compass that was handed to me by my environment, I had a conventional and direct methodology with which to determine whether I too was a “good” person. More importantly, I had a variety of avenues through which to pursue that status if I did not believe I fulfilled the requirements of a “good” person.
With this moral privilege, once I departed from my youthful “good” cradle and the warm embrace of my “good” peers, once I entered the gray adult world filled with absurd injustices and relative acts of seemingly necessary cruelty, I found myself deeply unprepared when I came to know the hearts of others.
I was very troubled. Everything was more complicated.
The truth of the matter is that very few are morally privileged. Many had their upbringing in a cutthroat environment where kindness was rewarded by abuse and competition was a requisite for survival. Many have had “bad” parents, “bad” schools and “bad” friends. Should those with moral privilege judge them? Fix them? Many have done “bad” things. Does that immediately make them “bad” people?
I do not think so. I feel there’s more to this story.
Now, here I speak within a certain scope. Almost everyone agrees some crimes are unequivocally “bad” and unjustifiable. Additionally, I do not argue here for theories like cultural relativism, which when taken to the extreme can justify the most terrible of acts simply because they were normalized by someone’s culture.
Instead, I wish to bring attention to the gray area that lies barely outside the realm of the traditionally “good” but is still well within reach. Here is where many of those without moral privilege reside. They are there not because it is in their inherent nature to be, but because the world tends to lead them there. In the eyes of the morally privileged, the choices of those who are not may occasionally seem contrary to goodness and worthy of condemnation, but that is just the result of the blindness that such a privilege gets you.
Certainly, who are we? What authority do we possess as the morally privileged to impart judgment on those who did not have the same opportunities? From atop our moral grand horses, who are we to judge and demean, to dictate they are in the wrong and we are in the undeniable right? Again, in extreme cases like murder, the answer is very obvious, but what of the gray section of the spectrum? At what point does one action become doubtlessly “bad” or clearly “good”?
I do not possess the answer to these questions, but still, I cannot help but wonder.
Undoubtedly, as the morally privileged, we are blind to the real nature of the world. By interacting again and again with “good” ideas and “good” people, we have not been taught the messy, murky reality: “good” people can do “bad” things and “bad” people can do “good” things. The lines blend and overlap, intermingling to the point they all fade into one overwhelming, suppressing gray.
The only truth I have observed is that, occasionally, what a “bad” person truly needs is not further condemnation, but the complete opposite. When a “bad” person is treated as a “good” one, when the ethical labels and moral calculations are dropped, when they are exposed to that moral privilege they were never handed, they may sometimes reveal what they really are: not a “bad” person or a “good” person but, simply, a person.
Strange how that works, no?
Carlos A. Basurto is a sophomore at Notre Dame ready to delve into his philosophy major with the hopes of adding the burden of a computer science major on top of that. When not busy you can find him consuming yet another 3+ hour-long analysis video of a show he has yet to watch or masochistically completing every achievement from a variety of video games. Now, with the power to channel his least insane ideas, feel free to talk about them via email at cbasurto@nd.edu.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
