“So what if they lie (cheat, steal, rape, betray – choose your verb)? What difference does it make?”
This question, new in the last decade, still pulls me up short. I viewed morality not as an idea one could embrace or ignore, but as a requirement of being, like breathing, eating, sweating, do it or die. One was supposed to be good – and better than one was – not from fear of censure or in obedience to some big guy in the sky – but because that’s what being human meant. We all slid from our daunting ideal, but deliberate, impenitent evildoers were defying the laws of being: aberrant, monstrous, hardly typical of our species.
Now, it seems, from both words and deeds, honesty, probity, decency, civility, fidelity are options, like hats, one can don or discard without a second thought. Does this goody-goody style suit you? Well then, have at it, flaunt it if it pleases you; but if not, no big deal, it takes all sorts to make a world.
One must, in short, make a case for morality as essential, not optional, the only conceivable basis for the sort of congregate living humans favor. If we were all loners, our attitudes toward others wouldn’t matter much; but we are herd creatures, who must modify our behavior to prevent self-slaughter. We need order – cooperation, collaboration, consideration – to get anything done.
Morality is the science of treating our fellow creatures. Every sociable act is moral, that is, it affects one or more of our dependents (for we all depend on one another). Amorality is an exculpatory myth: “I didn’t mean anything by it”, evasive rubbish. Everything we do relative to others means something – from fanged attacks to suppressed sighs.
The essential precept of morality has long been the Golden Rule. (Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Buddhism, Confucianism, Jainism, and Baha'í concur; in the old days, even Republicans and Democrats.) Treating others as we’d like to be treated, were our situations reversed, rectifies most bad-acting lickety-split. Do you want to be deceived, cheated, raped, betrayed or otherwise abused? Probably not. Then clean up your act, you ninny.
Morality is practicality, not idealism. Saints and fanatics may push self-restraint to unsustainable extremes, but we need to trust each other at least a little to get along. If we cannot believe a word we’re told, if we must sneak through our days wary of assault, if all strangers (and maybe even intimates) are secretly out to get us, how would we get anything done? “Stay safe,” a familiar valediction in recent decades, gives me hives. Safe for what? Better “Goodbye” – God be with you – or, better yet, “Enjoy.”
Most of morality is not complicated. We know, without too much thought, how we’d like to be treated. When claims compete, morality must deliberate: opinions about abortion, capital punishment, romance and patriotism, to name a few, may not be no-brainers. But in the main, we know what we should do, without instruction. No one, I contend, prefers being deceived, cheated, raped, betrayed, except maybe the occasional weirdo, who needs help.
And yet – the shock of my life – we hire as leader a creep we’d shudder at as babysitter, suitor for our daughter, or business advisor. Few deny his turpitude. Yet we hire, salute, pay homage – while his acolytes replicate his brilliant tactics. His disqualifications do not disqualify – “What difference do they make?”
The first role of a leader is to set a moral example. First, not one of, not nice-to-have. The leader we’ve chosen will lead us to perdition. “Character is destiny,” observed Heraclitus long ago. Color me blue.