litterbugs
I got really mad at some kid that littered on my lawn on Monday. The cat and I were both chillin on the patio, and this guy in a Nascar #3 (Dale Earnhardt Sr.) hat drove up, tossed a can into the sidewalk of my lawn. I noticed this happen, stood up, and intimated my feelings about it to him.
"FUCK YOU DUDE; PICK THAT SHIT UP."
Number 1 Dale Earnhardt fan got out of his car. "They're just going to bury it anyway...."
I didn't expect it, but it was a logically sound argument. He was essentially presenting that according to his Jeremy Bentham-style utilitarian moral calculus, his action was right because it pleased him, and it could be judged right or wrong by no other measure. Since there were only two people present, there was no 'most people' or 'least people' involved, as the cat opted instead to depart the porch. He essentially presented his act as morally neutral, neither good nor bad.
It was clever; he had already circumvented the major tragic flaw of Benthamite utilitarianism. I'll admit that I was fascinated by his response. I raced through my options. He was obviously expecting some kind of Kantian "theory of universality" discourse, in which I espoused that if an act was obviously wrong if it produced ill effect were it to be practiced by everyone. But then, he could be pretending to be a Benthamite when he was more the J.S. Mill variant of utilitarian. It has of course been said by many that the Bentham version of utilitarianism lacks fairness (one might say that it embraces the tyranny of the majority), and both Imannuel Kant and J.S. Mill would have been reasonable responses.
However, I long ago learned in one of my college courses -- "the Philosophy of War and Peace" -- that it is often important to break the mirror. It was imperative that my response deviated from the mundane; both the elevated Utilitarianism of Mill and the Categorical Imperatives of Kant would bring canned responses that any canny speaker such as this would have obviously prepared for in advance.
But whither justice? I instead opted to shift gears (there's a modality joke in there somewhere). I had made some strong declarations, and justifying them could be difficult. I instead opted to engage my skills as a Devil's Advocate, in which I argue for something that I don't necessarily believe.
I chose my next words very quickly, though carefully: "I don't care."
Ha! The sharp sword of moral relativism cuts both ways, foul Benthamite! He knew that at that point, it was futile to discuss moral philosophy. In terms of moral relativism, he had brought a knife to a gunfight. He understood full well that moral relativism is essentially subjective and regional at best, which left him in a difficult spot: he was in "when in Rome, do as the Romans do" territory. I was simultaneously explaining one of relativism's essential outcomes (it's central response to a notion of capital-J justice) while acknowledging both the regionality and vicious subjectivity of my philosophical stance.
He was stunned into action, and didn't even bother with a response. Dejected, he picked up the can, brought it back into his car, and drove off.
Don't get me wrong, I think that the personal politics of Mr. Bentham were both good and sound, but Benthamite utilitarianism really lacks any concept of 'capital-J' Justice, and it was justice, or at least redress, that I sought. Without some of the requisite social concepts like fairness in society, it just doesn't work beyond a personal scale. I'd like to think that my temporary descent into relativism will elevate this person's personal moral code into something a bit more modern and forward-thinking. The statement "Give a hoot, don't pollute" functions just as well in an elevated moral discourse like the seemingly more objective utilitarianism of Mill, or the entirely collective and objective categorical imperative of Kant as it does in the individual and uncaring pose of moral relativism.
"FUCK YOU DUDE; PICK THAT SHIT UP."
Number 1 Dale Earnhardt fan got out of his car. "They're just going to bury it anyway...."
I didn't expect it, but it was a logically sound argument. He was essentially presenting that according to his Jeremy Bentham-style utilitarian moral calculus, his action was right because it pleased him, and it could be judged right or wrong by no other measure. Since there were only two people present, there was no 'most people' or 'least people' involved, as the cat opted instead to depart the porch. He essentially presented his act as morally neutral, neither good nor bad.
It was clever; he had already circumvented the major tragic flaw of Benthamite utilitarianism. I'll admit that I was fascinated by his response. I raced through my options. He was obviously expecting some kind of Kantian "theory of universality" discourse, in which I espoused that if an act was obviously wrong if it produced ill effect were it to be practiced by everyone. But then, he could be pretending to be a Benthamite when he was more the J.S. Mill variant of utilitarian. It has of course been said by many that the Bentham version of utilitarianism lacks fairness (one might say that it embraces the tyranny of the majority), and both Imannuel Kant and J.S. Mill would have been reasonable responses.
However, I long ago learned in one of my college courses -- "the Philosophy of War and Peace" -- that it is often important to break the mirror. It was imperative that my response deviated from the mundane; both the elevated Utilitarianism of Mill and the Categorical Imperatives of Kant would bring canned responses that any canny speaker such as this would have obviously prepared for in advance.
But whither justice? I instead opted to shift gears (there's a modality joke in there somewhere). I had made some strong declarations, and justifying them could be difficult. I instead opted to engage my skills as a Devil's Advocate, in which I argue for something that I don't necessarily believe.
I chose my next words very quickly, though carefully: "I don't care."
Ha! The sharp sword of moral relativism cuts both ways, foul Benthamite! He knew that at that point, it was futile to discuss moral philosophy. In terms of moral relativism, he had brought a knife to a gunfight. He understood full well that moral relativism is essentially subjective and regional at best, which left him in a difficult spot: he was in "when in Rome, do as the Romans do" territory. I was simultaneously explaining one of relativism's essential outcomes (it's central response to a notion of capital-J justice) while acknowledging both the regionality and vicious subjectivity of my philosophical stance.
He was stunned into action, and didn't even bother with a response. Dejected, he picked up the can, brought it back into his car, and drove off.
Don't get me wrong, I think that the personal politics of Mr. Bentham were both good and sound, but Benthamite utilitarianism really lacks any concept of 'capital-J' Justice, and it was justice, or at least redress, that I sought. Without some of the requisite social concepts like fairness in society, it just doesn't work beyond a personal scale. I'd like to think that my temporary descent into relativism will elevate this person's personal moral code into something a bit more modern and forward-thinking. The statement "Give a hoot, don't pollute" functions just as well in an elevated moral discourse like the seemingly more objective utilitarianism of Mill, or the entirely collective and objective categorical imperative of Kant as it does in the individual and uncaring pose of moral relativism.