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Reasonable disagreement about morality
People disagree about morality. They disagree about what morality prohibits, permits and requires. And they disagree about why morality prohibits, permits and requires these things. Moreover, at least some of the disagreement on these matters is reasonable. It is not readily attributable to woolly thinking or ignorance or inattention to relevant considerations. Sensible and sincere people armed with similar life experience and acquainted with roughly the same facts come to notably different conclusions about the content and justification of morality.
I shall argue in this chapter that reasonable disagreement about morality presents a significant challenge to the enterprise of moral education. And in the rest of the book I shall set out a theory of moral education that, I hope, meets this challenge. I think the theory meets some other challenges faced by moral educators too; but it is the problem of reasonable disagreement that provides the impetus for my inquiry and that I consider to be most urgently in need of a solution.
The problem, baldly stated, is this. It is hard to see how we can bring it about that children subscribe to moral standards, and believe them to be justified, except by giving them some form of moral education. But it is also hard to see how moral educators can legitimately cultivate such subscription and belief in the face of reasonable disagreement about the content and justification of morality. It looks as though any attempt to persuade children of the authority of a selected moral code, when there are perfectly respectable alternatives available, is bound to be indoctrinatory.
The standard responses to this problem are as familiar as they are inadequate. We might deny that morality needs to be taught, putting our faith in the natural goodness of children or their propensity to identify and subscribe to moral standards of their own accord. Or we might bite the indoctrination bullet and resolve to inculcate a selected moral code and associated justification, relying on manipulation and misrepresentation to prevent serious consideration of the alternatives. Or we might decline to educate in morality and simply educate about it, inviting children to reflect critically on a range of moral codes and associated justifications and decide for themselves which, if any, merits their compliance.
Perhaps the severity of the problem and the inadequacy of the standard responses will be immediately granted. In case they are not, however, let me say a little more about each.
Reasonable moral disagreement
Reasonable disagreement is possible where the evidence and argument bearing on a matter is subject to more than one plausible interpretation. If people disagree on a matter because their plausible interpretations of the relevant evidence and argument conflict, their disagreement is a reasonable one. It does not follow, of course, that all disagreements about matters on which reasonable disagreement is possible are in fact reasonable: there are plenty of people who hold rationally untenable views on rationally contentious issues. Still, the plethora of questions to which we do not know the answer, and to which more than one possible answer has something to be said for it, makes reasonable disagreement a pervasive feature of our lives.
We may distinguish two kinds of reasonable disagreement in the sphere of morality. The first kind has to do with the application of moral standards to particular cases. People who subscribe to the same moral code with the same justification may not agree on what is morally required of them in a given situation. One reason for this is that moral norms sometimes make conflicting demands: it seems to be true of more or less any moral code that its adherents will occasionally find themselves in situations where compliance with one moral norm necessitates non-compliance with another. Consider, for example, a moral code that prohibits both lying and causing distress to others. Adherents of the code agree that lying and causing distress should be avoided wherever possible; they agree, too, that telling a white lie is normally preferable to hurting someoneâs feelings, and that causing minor distress is normally preferable to concealing important information. Because of this agreement, they will usually reach the same verdict on what is morally required in situations to which one or both of the prohibitions apply. But some situations in which telling the truth involves causing distress are plainly not covered by the agreed guidelines: namely, situations in which the truth matters and the distress caused is likely to be great. Here adherents of the code confront a moral dilemma. They see that it matters, morally speaking, which course of action they choose; but they lack an agreed procedure for weighing the relevant moral considerations against each other. Moral dilemmas are therefore one source of reasonable disagreement about the application of moral standards.
Another reason for moral disagreement of this first kind is that it is sometimes difficult to decide whether a given action is of a morally prohibited or required type. Suppose an act of appropriation meets some but not all of the criteria we use to identify instances of theft. There are currently, on my bookshelf, three or four volumes I am fairly sure I acquired originally from people who lent them to me in the expectation that they would be returned. At the time of borrowing them, I no doubt intended to return them, though in a fairly weak sense of âintendedâ. It would perhaps be more accurate to say that I did not intend not to return them. Nevertheless, they were not returned, and I now have neither a clear recollection of who lent me the books nor much inclination to investigate the matter with a view to restoring them to their rightful owners. Am I guilty of theft? The question is one on which there is room for reasonable disagreement among people who agree that stealing is morally wrong (and, indeed, on which there is room for a moral agent to be divided within himself: I do occasionally feel guilty about the volumes on my shelf, and my guilt is only partly assuaged by the thought that I have lost more books by this route than I have gained). In the main, of course, it is perfectly obvious when an act of appropriation is a case of stealing, and more generally when a given action is of a morally prohibited or required type; but it is not always perfectly obvious, and sometimes it is very unclear.
Reasonable disagreement about the application of moral standards â the kind of disagreement that arises from moral dilemmas and borderline cases of morally regulated actions â is an important feature of moral life and a proper focus of attention for moral educators. But it is not this kind of disagreement that threatens the enterprise of moral education: it presents no impediment to teaching children an authoritative moral code. The threat to moral education is posed by reasonable moral disagreement of the second kind: disagreement about the content and justification of morality. Sometimes people reasonably disagree not about the application of moral standards they share, but about which moral standards are authoritative and why.
Are citizens of democratic states morally required to vote in general elections? Is it morally wrong to eat meat? Are parents morally permitted to smack their children? People disagree about the answers to these questions. Some recognise a moral requirement to vote, or a moral prohibition on eating meat or smacking children; others recognise no such requirement or prohibition. Those in the latter camp may, of course, vote because they care about politics, follow a vegetarian diet for health reasons, or refrain from smacking because they consider it an ineffective form of discipline; but here they are acting on the basis of non-moral practical judgments, not complying with moral standards. When people disagree about the moral regulation of voting, meat-eating and smacking, they are disagreeing about the content of morality; and their disagreement is quite reasonable. It is plausible to argue that membership and enjoyment of the benefits of a democratically governed society confer a moral obligation to participate in the democratic process. But it is also plausible to argue that political freedom includes the moral right not to participate in the democratic process if one prefers not to. It is even plausible to suggest that those who cannot make an informed judgment in the polling booth â because they have not troubled to find out about the candidates or think through the implications of their policies â have a moral obligation not to vote. In the same way, there are sensible things to be said both for and against the claims that meat-eating and smacking are morally wrong.
To be sure, not all moral standards are as controversial as the ones that regulate voting, meat-eating and smacking. There is much less disagreement, for example, about the authority of moral prohibitions on lying, cheating and stealing. Perhaps we might identify a core of basic moral standards endorsed by more or less all reasonable people. If there is such a consensus, it is a fact of no little importance; but we are not yet out of the woods. For agreement on the content of a moral code does not entail agreement on its justification. And, in fact, justificatory arguments for even the most universally recognised moral standards are fiercely contested.
Take the widely accepted moral prohibition on lying. Most of us think we always have a pro tanto moral reason not to lie, even if that reason is sometimes defeated by countervailing considerations of greater weight. But it is far from clear that we accept the same justification for our shared moral standard. No doubt it is rare for many of us to consider the question of why lying is wrong; but when we do consider it, we find ourselves confronted with a plethora of possible answers. One suggestion is that we should not lie because general compliance with a prohibition on lying is conducive to the greatest happiness for the greatest number. Another is that, when we tell someone a lie, we treat her not as an end-in-herself, but as a means to our ends: we manipulate her by our deception and thus fail to respect her dignity as a person. A third is that possessing and exercising the virtue of honesty is a necessary condition of our own flourishing. A fourth is that lying is wrong because it subverts the proper function of speech, which is to communicate to others what is in our minds. And a fifth is that, in view of our limited capacity to make sense of the human condition, we do better to rely on the guidance of an omniscient divine being in matters of morality, and it so happens that such a being has reliably informed us that we ought not to lie. Alongside this diverse range of justificatory strategies sits another possibility: the thought that a rational justification for our shared moral standard is unavailable. It is a fact about most of us that we are disposed to refrain from lying, to feel guilty when we do lie, and to disapprove of lies told by others. We can speculate about the biological and environmental causes of this disposition, but it is a mistake to suppose that we shall be able to find a justification for it. It is just what human beings are like.
I do not suggest that all these responses to the question of why lying is wrong are equally credible. But they are all familiar proposals in moral theory; some of them are at least plausible; and none can fairly be said to settle the matter. Even if there is consensus among reasonable people on some basic moral standards, there seems to be little consensus on what, if anything, grounds those standards. Agreement reached at the level of content falls apart at the level of justification.
That reasonable disagreement of this second kind â disagreement about the content and justification of morality â is a salient feature of contemporary societies, and that it presents those societies with significant challenges, is a key premise of much recent political philosophy. John Rawls famously formulates the fundamental question of political justice like this: âhow is it possible for there to exist over time a just and stable society of free and equal citizens who remain profoundly divided by reasonable religious, philosophical and moral doctrines?â (Rawls, 2005, p.4). And he contends that the profound divides between reasonable citizens on matters of religion and morality are unlikely to be closed any time soon:
The political culture of a democratic society is always marked by a diversity of opposing and irreconcilable religious, philosophical and moral doctrines. Some of these are perfectly reasonable, and this diversity among reasonable doctrines political liberalism sees as the inevitable long-run result of the powers of human reason at work within the background of enduring free institutions.
(ibid., pp.3â4)
Human beings, exercising their powers of reason in the absence of coercion, will come to different conclusions on matters of morality because the relevant evidence and argument is subject to more than one plausible interpretation. The Rawlsian worry is that this casts doubt on the possibility of a just and stable society of free and equal citizens; my interest here is in the doubt it casts on the possibility of a defensible form of moral education.
The threat to moral education
The problem for moral education posed by reasonable disagreement about morality consists in the difficulty of reconciling the following three claims:
1. Moral education aims to bring it about that children subscribe to moral standards and believe them to be justified.
2. There is reasonable disagreement about the content and justification of morality.
3. Teaching propositions as true, or standards as justified, when there is reasonable disagreement about them, is indoctrinatory.
It seems to follow from the conjunction of these three claims that moral educators have no defensible means of realising their ends. They are tasked with ensuring that children recognise the authority of a moral code, but they cannot fulfil that task without resorting to impermissible methods of teaching. I have indicated above why I think we should be sympathetic to claim (2). What about claims (1) and (3)?
The aim of bringing about subscription to moral standards and belief in their justification is not a necessary one for moral educators. Teaching about moral codes, in the sense of explaining what they require and how they differ, without any thought of persuading children that one or other of them is authoritative, is a perfectly intelligible undertaking, and one for which âmoral educationâ is not an inappropriate label. But moral education understood merely as the anthropological study of moral codes would hardly answer to the pressing social need most of us take to be the raison dâĂȘtre of the enterprise. Moral education matters because each new generation must be taught the difference between right and wrong; children must come to understand and be disposed to comply with the requirements of morality. The crucial educational task is the formation of responsible moral agents, and this does involve the cultivation of subscription to moral standards and belief in their justification.
Note that I am not concerned at this point with the division of educational labour between home and school. Suppose it were to be proposed that the formation of responsible moral agents should take place in the home and the anthropological study of moral codes in the school. Well, then the conundrum I have identified is one faced by parents rather than teachers. I take it that parents, no less than teachers, have an obligation not to indoctrinate, so relieving schools of responsibility for the hard part of moral education is no solution to the problem. (In fact I think this hypothetical division of moral educational labour would be highly impractical: parents and teachers are jointly responsible for ensuring that children recognise the authority of a moral code, so face the conundrum together.)
The claim that it is indoctrinatory to teach propositions as true, or standards as justified, when there is reasonable disagreement about them is a familiar one in the literature on indoctrination. To indoctrinate someone is to impart beliefs to her in such a way that she comes to hold them non-rationally, on some other basis than the force of relevant evidence and argument. Propositions or standards about which there is reasonable disagreement are those for which the relevant evidence and argument is subject to more than one plausible interpretation. If a teacher wishes to persuade a learner that such propositions are true, or such standards justified, she cannot do so by rational demonstration, by producing compelling evidence or decisive arguments. She must instead resort to non-rational means of persuasion, to some form of manipulation or psychological pressure, to bring about the desired beliefs. But beliefs into which a learner has been cajoled, bullied or seduced are beliefs she has come to hold on a basis other than the force of relevant evidence and argument. They are, that is to say, beliefs into which she has been indoctrinated.
It is sometimes suggested that teaching cannot be indoctrinatory unless there is an intention, on the part of the teacher, to bring it about that learners hold beliefs non-rationally. If this were true, moral educators could avoid the charge of indoctrination merely by eschewing this intention. They could overcome the threat to moral education by persuading themselves that they have, and can give to learners, conclusive reasons for believing that certain moral standards are justified, even if conclusive reasons are in fact unavailable. As I am using the term âindoctrinatoryâ here, there need not, and often will not, be any intention on the part of the teacher that learners should come to hold beliefs non-rationally. What makes teaching indoctrinatory is that learners do come to hold beliefs in this way, whatever the teacherâs intention. The problem for moral education is that beliefs about which there is reasonable disagreement can only be reliably imparted to others in ways that result in their being non-rationally held.
Indoctrination is considered a significant harm because of the difficulty of shifting beliefs one has come to hold non-rationally. Insofar as beliefs are held on the basis of evidence and argument, they are open to revision and correction. One is prepared to modify or relinquish them in the light of fresh evidence, or fresh appraisals of old evidence. Insofar as beliefs are held non-rationally, on the other hand, they are highly resistant to reassessment. Because they are not founded on evidence and argument, the discovery of counter-evidence and counter-argument has little or no effect on them. The damage done to the childâs mind by indoctrinatory teaching is well-described by John Wilson:
For here we have taken over, or put to sleep, a central part of the childâs personality â his ability to think rationally in a certain area. To put it dramatically: there is always hope so long as the mind remains free, however much our behaviour may be forced or our feelings conditioned. But if we occupy the inner citadel of thought and language, then it is difficult to see how a person can develop or regain rationality except by a very lengthy and arduous course of treatment.
(Wilson et al., 1967, pp.174â175)
Teachers, parents and others involved in the education of children ought to be both implacably opposed to indoctrination and acutely aware of how easy it is to slip, consciously or unconsciously, from rational to non-rational means of persuasion in the transmission of beliefs. But anyone so opposed and aware cannot fail to be troubled by the aim of bringing it about, in the face of reasonable disagreement about morality, that children subscribe to moral standards and believe them to be justified.
Doing without moral education
One standard response to this problem is the proposal that we simply abandon the enterprise of moral education. The thought here is that we can sidestep the difficulty of teaching morality by recognising that morality is usually caught rather than taught, or perhaps that it is innate rather than acquired. If teaching morality is unnecessary, we need not look too hard for a defensible way of doing it.
Take, first, the suggestion that morality is caught rather than taught. This looks quite plausible if it is taken to mean that most significant moral learning takes place informally, in the context of childrenâs real-life encounters with situations to which moral standards apply, rather than formally, in the context of methodical instruction or theoretical exposition in the classroom. Learn...