Ethical relativism is the thesis that ethical principles or judgments are relative to the individual or culture. When stated so vaguely relativism is embraced by numerous lay persons and a sizeable contingent of philosophers. Other philosophers, however, find the thesis patently false, even wonder how anyone could seriously entertain it. Both factions are on to something, yet both miss something significant as well. Those who whole-heartedly embrace relativism note salient respects in which ethics is relative, yet erroneously infer that ethical values are noxiously subjective. Those who reject relativism do so because they think ethics is subject to rational scrutiny, that moral views can be correct or incorrect. But in rejecting objectionable features of relativism they overlook significant yet non-pernicious ways in which ethics is relative.
In short, each side harps on the opponent's weaknesses while overlooking its own flaws. That is regrettable. We are not forced to choose between relativism and rationality. We can have both. There are ways in which ethical principles and behavior vary legitimately from culture to culture and individual to individual. That we must recognize. However this in no way suggests we cannot reason about ethics. Rather we should strive for a rational yet relativistic ethic which emphasizes the exercise of cultivated moral judgement rather than the rote application of extant moral rules. Or so I shall argue.
Situation Sensitivity
Most if not all ethicists recognize that ethical principles are relative in one sense, namely that they are situation-sensitive. Proffered moral rules like "Don't lie" are objectionable in undiluted form, we are told, since allegiance to them invites morally horrendous consequences. Textbook wisdom has it that these rules are not absolute prescriptions to be unwaveringly followed. Instead they are rules of thumb, abridgements of unexpurgated moral principles with specific qualifications or ceteris paribus clauses. Thus "Don't lie" is short for "Don't lie unless one must do so to avert great moral harm," or even more vaguely, "Don't lie, other things being equal." These "complete" principles are presumably general (i.e., relatively context-free) and exceptionless (applicable to all cases).[1]Thus, although the principles are absolute, what they prescribe varies, depending on the relevant features of the case.
Most philosophers recognize it is difficult, if not impossible, to delineate all and only such principles. We are too limited intellectually. Nonetheless we must assume there are such principles, and strive to formulate (rough approximations) of them. Without this regulative assumption, they argue, we must conclude there are conflicting ethical opinions that are equally valid. That, Brandt says, is the deleterious essence of relativism.[2]
This textbook explanation of the situation relativity of moral rules is correct as far as it goes. No specific rules can handle all the situations we face. It is dangerous to let simple maxims masquerade as full-blown moral principles. People mistake the substitute for the original and thereby ignore relevant moral complexities. We need general situation-sensitive rules.
However, such rules are not enough. General situation sensitive rules will be effective only if we know in advance which features are morally relevant. That we cannot invariably know since what is morally relevant may emerge only in the circumstances. Consequently, different individuals may legitimately act differently. Furthermore, moral relevance depends not only on the circumstances, but also on the personality of the moral agent. Let me explain.
A Rational Relativistic Ethic
It is high time that I explain in more details what I mean by a rational but relativistic ethic. That is easier said than done. Given the way the debate has been framed in the past, most people assume that we must either embrace a rigid absolutism or else run headlong into the arms of those who say ethics is non-rational.
These are not our only options. Nonetheless, it is difficult to specify what a non-traditional ethic would look like; it is difficult to explain how one could reason about ethics once we have abandoned the traditional conception. Although alternatives proposed by Schneewind, Altman, Pincoffs (all cited earlier) and others [15] strike a responsive chord, they initially seem unacceptably vague.
I suspect they seem vague, however, because we are subconsciously wedded to the model manufactured and sold by modern philosophy. We assumed ethics needed the seal of certainty, else it was non-rational. And certainty was to be produced by a deductive model: the correct actions were derivable from classical first principles or a hierarchically ranked pantheon of principles. This model, though, is bankrupt. We must abandon it and begin to think about ethics differently.
I suggest we think of ethics as analogous to language usage. As my previous analysis suggested, there are no univocal rules of grammar and style which uniquely determine the best sentence for a particular situation. Nor is language usage universalizable. Although a sentence or phrase is warranted in one case does not mean it is automatically appropriate in like circumstances -- unless "like" is so circumscribed that no situation is like another. Nonetheless, language usage is not subjective.
This should not surprise us in the least. All intellectual pursuits are relativistic in just these senses. Political science, psychology, chemistry, and physics are not certain, but they are not subjective either. As Shapere puts it, science "involves no unalterable assumptions whatever, whether in the form of substantive beliefs, methods, rules or concepts" Everything is up for grabs, including the notions of "discovery" and understanding."[16]
As I see it, ethical inquiry proceed like this: we are taught moral principles by parents, teachers, and society at large. As we grow older we become exposed to competing views. These may lead us to reevaluate presently held beliefs. Or we may find ourselves inexplicably making certain valuations, possibly because of inherited altruistic tendencies.[17] We may "learn the hard way" that some actions generate unacceptable consequences. Or we may reflect upon our own and others' "theories" or patterns of behavior and decide they are inconsistent. The resulting views are "tested"; we act as we think we should and evaluate the consequences of those actions on ourselves and on others. We thereby correct our mistakes in light of the test of time.
Of course we may not like such a ragtag process. We may yearn for the "good ole days" when we thought our ethical principles had the stamp of certainty, when we thought we had a foolproof univocal procedure for determining right and wrong. But those days, like the noumenal world, are well lost.[18] They are mere dreams, flights of philosophical fancy. It is time to grow up, to recognize that certainty is not on the menu -- nor was it ever.
That should not worry us. For if certainty is not on the menu neither is full-blown relativism. Of course people make different moral judgments; of course we cannot resolve these differences by using some algorithm which is itself beyond judgement. We have no vantage point outside human experience where we can judge right and wrong, good and bad. But then we don't have a vantage point from where we can be philosophical relativists either.[19]
We are left within the real world, trying to cope -- with ourselves, with each other, with the world, and with our own fallibility. We do not have all the moral answers; nor do we have an algorithm to discern those answers. Neither do we possess a algorithm for determining correct language usage but that does not make us throw up our hands in despair because we can no longer communicate.
If we understand ethics in this way, we can see, I think, the real value of ethical theory. Ethical theory is important, although in ways different than many people suppose. Some people talk as if ethical theories give us moral prescriptions. They think we should apply ethical principles as we would a poultice: after diagnosing the ailment, we apply the appropriate dressing.
But that is a mistake. No theory provides a set of abstract solutions to apply straightforwardly. But then, I doubt if most ethical theorists ever thought they did. Ethical theories are important not because they solve all moral dilemmas but because they help us notice salient features of moral problems and help us understand those problems in context. They help us see problems we had not seen, to understand problems we had not understood, and thereby empower us to make informed moral judgments, judgement we could not have made without an appreciation of moral theories. In that respect ethical theories and grammar serve similar functions: good grammarians may not be effective communicators; however, a grasp of grammar empowers us to communicate effectively.
Thus, we should instruct each other in the basic principles inherited from the past (respect for persons, reverence for human life, etc.) and act upon those as circumstances warrant. Then, we must listen and talk. We must non-defensively hear other's evaluations of our actions and non-condemnatorily offer reactions to theirs -- all the while acknowledging our and their fallibility. When certain actions seem especially horrendous to many (e.g., murder) we should legally prohibit them. Less obvious harms we will leave to the arena of ideas. In short: I only urge that we replicate our procedures for language usage. This, of course, puts a burden on everyone to evaluate inherited "moral wisdom" as well as our own actions. And it demands that we govern our behavior in accordance with what we find. But isn't that exactly the central theme of philosophy?[20]
Source : http://ethics.sandiego.edu/
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