About a year ago, I was traveling across the country on my way to my new job in Chicago when I stopped by an old friend's house to crash for the evening. I had booked a flying lesson in an old but remodeled WWII pilot trainer plane of sorts and was planning to crash in Phoenix that night anyway. Through the night, we caught up on life and how strange it was to look back at just how much had changed in only two years. Over the next few hours, we talked about life, friendships, jobs, and philosophy over a few glasses of whisky. It was in this conversation that I stumbled upon a realization concerning those who ponder the ethics of their lives.
Among nearly every writer, philosopher, or essayist I have ever read, there is always a particular question that lurks within their heart and creeps out through their pen: "Am I a good person?"
They all dress this question in many ways, and it almost always sounds rhetorical. They always tend to give a few earnest, half-hearted responses. They try to be kind, they try to do what's right usually, they don't have too many vices, and they all conclude to be all too human; they gave it their best and, after all, what could you really ever ask for more than that? But in my heart, almost gutturally, I wince just to hear any of them say such a thing. Their uncertainty is haunting to me, for I respect so many of their ideas and find myself sharing many of their views on life. Am I just behind them? Will I slip into such grey self-doubt? Or am I a step ahead of them? Have I found the answer, or am I just a bit more arrogant? It was at this moment that I realized part of my ethical principle is uncertainty. Certainty to any such heights is merely closed-mindedness. You cannot improve yourself if you're blind to your own faults and capacity to grow, after all.
Enough with the pretext; let me cut right to it. I am certain of only one thing: there is but one way any human ought to spend their lives, and it is simply to do what they believe is right.
"But, Matt, doesn't that make anything right? Relativism? Really?
I didn't think you'd stoop so low."
Yes, sure, you can see it through the lens of relativism, but I invite you instead to see it through the lens of uncertainty. You see, to do what you believe is right is a much more complex set of events than some mere gut check. It is the symbiosis of feeling and thought, head and heart, logic and emotion. As I have talked about before, belief is not a choice. It is something gained through the processing of experiences, both those manifested through thought and created through emotion. And while you can certainly choose how to act upon these experiences, you do not get to choose what they are. Like the rising tides of anger and anxiety that swell when things go wrong, you cannot control the feeling, only how you respond.
But based on this reasoning, can one even choose what one believes? What exactly forms the basis of what one believes is right? You could suggest it is something like the Bible or the greater good or any such solidified moral codifications, but ultimately, it always comes down to your judgment on the matter. You decide whether or not to appeal to some greater authority based on your judgment and sense of it. So again, ultimately, it is the feelings and judgments you hold at the moment of making a decision. Whether it is right or wrong is only based on your rationale.
Do you feel a certain decision is wrong in your gut but have a logical justification enough to follow through with it?
Or do you have no rhyme or reason as to why you feel you ought to make this decision but feel it in your heart that you should?
These are fragmented decisions. One way or the other, you were divided, and one part of your mind's rationale was left unheeded while the other was carried out. When faced with enough decisions like this, it can leave a person incohesive, without any such principle with which to stand or identity with which to remain consistent, a creature that knows only ever half of right or wrong and questions their own ethics. It often leads one to settle in dismay with themselves.
You have but two moral imperatives you must seek within your life.
First, you must always do what you think is right.
It is not enough to know what is right; you must enact it, writing your will into existence. Within this imperative rest the values of action, persistence, and the bravery to act against the fears that hold you back. To cultivate these values, you must hone your emotions such that they do not force you to respond in ways you do not believe in. Chances are, you will. This will lead to opportunities to incorporate these experiences into your understanding of yourself. You must go out and experience life so that you familiarize yourself with yourself. Know how you would respond in different situations by placing yourself within them. We cannot predict exactly how it will go, but that is the reason we fear to begin with. We must start somewhere. Without the experiences in life to reflect upon, our chances of succeeding in following the next imperative are crippled significantly.
The second imperative is to always strive to know what is right.
This imperative maintains that we must aim higher than where we are. As humans, we are fallible and cannot lay claim to epistemic truths. Determining what is right and what is wrong is a process of refining judgments and cultivating wisdom, a notion that requires one to seek out the experiences that do so, even if they challenge your current conclusions. Within this imperative lies the values of open-mindedness, humility, and the desire for growth and progress. An infinite reach unto an ever-ambiguous better state.
What is "imperative" about these principles is that you strive. To strive is to make great efforts toward something. This "something" ought to be what you think is right, even if that goes against all others who proclaim you wrong. To strive to grow and to strive to act. It is perhaps unfortunate that this means I philosophically support those whom I might ethically disagree with; however, neither you nor I or anyone else is any such being to claim righteous superiority. This does not mean I would not act to stop them, but it does mean that if they are truly doing what they believe to be right, I can do nothing but contest their will with my own. To ask them not to do what they think is right solely for the outcome to be in my favor is ultimately selfish.
All the while, we must maintain this viewpoint through humble uncertainty, not nihilistic relativism. Righteousness is not about the consequences or outcomes; it is about fulfillment and growth toward some greater end. Our highest possible aspiration is to do all that we believe is right. Thus, we should seek to see everyone become the greatest person they can be, and what more could be asked, then, of any person than to do what they believe is right?
In the end, who is anyone to suggest that you should sacrifice doing what you think is right only to do what they think is? Should any person sacrifice what they are for another? These are questions I'd like to leave with you.
Until next time.
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