An Introduction to Moral Philosophy and Moral Education

Robin Barrow

• Éditeur: Routledge
• Année: 2007
• ISBN:
  9781134103775
• Édition: 1
• Sujet: Didattica
• Sous-sujet: Didattica generale

This book presents and argues for a moral theory which draws on most of the major theoretical positions to some degree, but it also spells out the limits and boundaries of a moral theory. In doing so, it exposes a number of common confusions and misunderstandings about morality, and presents a strong argument for some indisputable truths in relation to the moral sphere.

Divided into four parts, the book covers the key issues within moral philosophy:

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• part one provides a lucid and powerful account of the nature and limits of moral theory, sharply distinguishing it from religion
• part two outlines a positive moral theory by exploring the defining principles of morality and the reasons for being moral
• part three distinguishes moral values from others such as ecological, health and safety and sexual values
• part four is concerned with the implications of our moral understanding for moral education.

While this book concentrates on argument and ideas, a commentary to each chapter provides historical context and contemporary reference points. It will prove an invaluable resource for students of both Education and Philosophy.

Part I
Understanding the nature and limits of moral theory

1
Integrity: a shared moral value

Part I is concerned with clearing the ground and laying the foundations for a moral theory. Some of the difficulty in understanding what morality does and does not involve is the result of misunderstandings and misapprehensions about the nature of morality and what a moral theory can and cannot do. Chapter 1 focuses on some common ground in the form of commitment to integrity. The next three chapters introduce a number of basic distinctions and errors. In particular, the relationship between morality and religion and nature, the contemporary tendency to think in terms of ‘rights’ and ‘procedural justice’, and the object or purpose of morality are considered.

The most obvious problem with morality is that people disagree about what behaviour is or is not moral. One culture finds stoning adulterers to death morally shocking, another finds it morally incumbent. Within the same culture some think animal vivisection is morally defensible, others think it morally defensible to harm, even kill, people who are associated with vivisection. Some members of the same family or circle of friends support abortion as morally acceptable, others regard it as morally indefensible. But, if disagreement is the most striking difficulty, the more insidious danger, and ultimately the most worrying, is that many people feel that there is no grounding for morality. Moral claims and judgements, it is widely believed, cannot be proved or demonstrated to be true. They used to be linked to religion, but, for many, religion no longer has the grip it used to have. In addition, various factors, such as a sense of fatalism, the perception of great differences between people’s values, and perhaps simply an increased selfishness and materialism, may contribute to a widespread feeling that morality is dead. It is a rather old-fashioned concept, and what our pious ancestors saw as matters of objective right and wrong are really matters of opinion, preference, even mere taste.

I believe that this idea that morality cannot be firmly grounded and that moral claims are mere matters of opinion is quite mistaken. To introduce one of the themes that will run through this book, we are confusing the fact that many moral problems are difficult, and some indeed are insoluble, with the notion that there can be no truth on moral questions. But these are quite distinct points. It may be difficult, sometimes impossible, to decide what is the wisest or best thing to do in a non-moral sense, as, for example, when I have to decide whether to take up an appointment abroad. But the fact that it may be impossible for me to know in advance whether in terms of material gain, satisfaction for me and my family, career success, etc., it would be a smart decision shows neither that there is no wiser or worse choice in this case, nor that other choices about other matters are similarly problematic. And whether it is or is not possible to determine the most advantageous course to pursue in this example, it still remains the case that there are appropriate and inappropriate ways to examine the issue. In exactly the same way, while it may be conceded that there are moral disagreements, some of which cannot be resolved, this does nothing to establish that no moral questions can be answered, or that there are not appropriate and inappropriate ways to reason about morality, or that there is no moral truth. The question of whether something is morally true must be distinguished from the question of how certain we may be about it or whether we can know it.

That it is a mistake to deduce from the fact of moral uncertainty and disagreement that there is necessarily no moral truth having been noted, it should also be emphasized that the sense that there is a widespread suspicion that there is no moral truth is not particularly well founded. One indication that most people, whatever they may say to the contrary, do in fact have a basic belief in a moral truth that transcends mere opinion is that they believe in and respect integrity. The word itself may or may not be used, but remarks of the type, ‘He lacks integrity’ or ‘I wouldn’t trust him’, are commonplace and generally delivered with the implication that they state a matter of fact, and one that is objectionable. While we may argue about whether freedom or equality is ultimately more important, and disagree about the rights and wrongs of abortion, the limits of free speech and the virtues of monogamy, most of us agree that we ought to live our lives with integrity and that those who lack integrity are to that extent to be criticized for a moral failing.

Stated baldly in this manner, this may not at first sight seem a very significant point. After all, a dictionary will typically define the word ‘integrity’ in some such terms as ‘abiding by moral principles’, and clearly, on any view, morality involves abiding by rather than disregarding moral principles. So integrity is morally good by definition. But the claim does have significance, partly because integrity involves more than simply ‘abiding by’ moral principles and partly because in focusing on integrity as a moral concept we take the emphasis off various other things that are mistakenly regarded as necessary or crucial parts of morality. In addition, the prime concern here is to point out that people who might be inclined to say that morality is just a matter of convention seem nonetheless to recognize its demands when it is couched in terms of integrity. There are at least some who will say, without much sign of shame, ‘I don’t see myself as a very moral person’, but who would not want to say, ‘I see myself as lacking in integrity’.

The person of integrity does not simply ‘abide by’ moral principles in the sense of acting in accordance with them. At the very least, he acts in accordance with them because he recognizes that they have some authority over him. I do not show integrity merely by keeping my word, or by keeping my word because I am frightened that you will take revenge if I don’t. Indeed, a judgement that somebody has integrity is usually made precisely when they keep their word despite being threatened, bribed, etc. Only if I keep my word because I recognize that it would be wrong not to do so, do I deserve to be commended for behaving with integrity. Furthermore, one expects both consistency and determination from a person of integrity. The fact that on a certain occasion I act in a certain way because I believe it to be morally right does not establish my integrity. I need, at least, to show that I can be counted on to act in such a way consistently and regardless of temptations and pressures to do otherwise. And it goes without saying that my commitment to acting on principle must be sincere, which means in turn that the person of integrity needs to have self-understanding. People who see themselves as acting on principle, but who in fact are motivated by something else such as hope of praise or respect, or out of fear, do not have integrity, even though they obviously think they do. (There is a secondary meaning of the word ‘integrity’ which is ‘wholeness’ and derives from the meaning of the original Latin word. Although I shall not pursue the matter, there is, I think, something of the idea of wholeness also associated with the moral concept of integrity: a person of integrity should have a wide-ranging, coherent moral viewpoint and not simply adhere to one or two isolated principles.)

Equally important is the fact that the person of integrity, in acting on the basis of moral principles, is by implication not acting in accordance with a calculation of advantage to self or others, is not motivated by some particular goal, and is not simply following rules. There is an important difference between telling the truth because it is to your advantage to do so and telling it because you believe that you ought to do so regardless of the consequences; and so there is between telling the truth on principle and simply obeying a rule to tell the truth. Following a rule because it is a rule to be obeyed is different from believing in a principle. The rule follower will always follow it, regardless of the circumstances. But, as I shall argue, the principle that truth-telling is good does not necessarily lead to the conclusion that the truth must always be told. (That indeed is the essential difference between a principle, which guides, and a rule, which demands.)

In short, behaviour of integrity is to be distinguished from rule-bound behaviour; it involves conscious, sincere, and consistent adherence to principles out of recognition that the principles ought to be upheld. To this we may add ‘regardless of consequences’, provided we distinguish between ignoring the claims of other principles and all other types of consequence. If in principle one ought to tell the truth, the woman of integrity will do so even if it makes her unpopular etc. However, she might not tell the truth, if some other moral principle has an equally strong or stronger claim on her. Thus she might not tell the truth if the consequence of doing so would be that she caused great harm to others and she also subscribes to the principle that one should avoid harming others.

This brings us to the heart of the matter. Since integrity is a moral notion, the principles in question cannot be any old principles such as ‘Look after number one’ or ‘Never give a sucker an even break’. They must be moral principles. So the idea of integrity by no means solves all our problems. I have introduced it because it lacks some of the connotations of words like ‘virtue’ and ‘morality’. As I say, most people seem at ease with integrity; they may say that morality is dead, but they don’t say that integrity doesn’t matter. They may find the idea of proclaiming themselves ‘moral’ or, worse, ‘virtuous’ a little pompous and overweening, but they would surely be prepared to defend their integrity. To be contrasted with integrity is another word in fairly common use: hypocrisy. And, similarly, while we are all probably guilty of a little hypocrisy from time to time, most of us share the conviction that there is something wrong with saying one thing and doing another. Despite the too easy assumption that there is no universal common moral sense, I don’t know of any culture, historical or contemporary, that doesn’t share the insight that being two-faced, though it might conceivably be justified on some occasions, is in itself morally repugnant. And when people are two-faced or hypocritical they invariably seem to feel a need to explain away or justify their hypocrisy by appeal to some unavoidable constraint or some other moral imperative. Nobody, in other words, denies that integrity is morally commendable or hypocrisy to be morally condemned; nobody has yet been known to argue that there is simply nothing wrong with hypocrisy (although some have argued that it can be engaged in for some higher good). There is, despite claims to the contrary, a common perception of and a common commitment to morality, when conceived in terms of integrity.

To recognize this is of importance; but while reflection on the notion of integrity draws our attention to the fact that there is some permanent, unchanging core to morality, and, furthermore, that people, generally speaking, recognize this despite the fashionable tendency to dismiss morality as a matter of subjective judgement, it cannot in itself define morality since the person of integrity acts on moral principles; and it cannot in itself answer such further questions as whether the martyr for any cause, if consistent, sincere, and principled, can claim moral integrity. (Since a person of integrity acts on moral principles, those principles themselves cannot be defined in terms of integrity, and acknowledging that we all recognize the goodness of principled behaviour neither tells us what the principles are nor establishes that nothing else matters except acting on principle.) Nonetheless, the idea of integrity provides a useful starting point in reminding us that there is widespread agreement that sincere and consistent principled activity is to be valued and commended. That such behaviour is desirable seems to be one fact about morality.

The first question addressed was: do we have any common moral sentiment or sense? Is there any reason to assume at least some common core to a moral viewpoint? The answer was, broadly speaking, yes. The second question is: how, given the world in which we live, can any of us find it in ourselves to sustain faith in morality?

Towards the end of the Second World War a certain man was arrested by the Gestapo. He found himself being interrogated by two men whom he knew quite well. With one he was on friendly terms, with the other he had a polite relationship. He was accused by these men of certain things of which he was in fact quite innocent, and he was brutally tortured. He was imprisoned for several months and routinely beaten up. By the end he had lost an eye and was crippled and sexually impotent for life. When he was released, he was informed by his torturers that he would not find any trace of his wife or children. Nor did he.

Several months later, impoverished, ruined, and alone, the war now being over, he happened to pass his two jailers on the street, talking and laughing cheerfully and looking in the pink of health. They were never called to account either for their treatment of him or for any other of their grotesque and brutal acts during the war.

The point of telling this story, merely one of thousands that can be told about man’s inhumanity to man, is to highlight the question of how anyone in the world in which we live is supposed to sustain any faith in a moral universe. How can one believe in goodness in a world in which we do what we do to each other? How can one believe in a just world, when the vile and the vicious so often thrive? How can one believe in morality, when immorality so often and so clearly gets away with it? This man may have suffered rather more than many of us, but he, the millions who have been cheated, betrayed, raped, and killed, and we, who may, if we are lucky, merely have seen the dishonest prosper and the honest go unrewarded, all have this in common: what we know from history and what we see around us suggests that ‘God is dead’. Whatever else may be said about the world, an honest appraisal does not lead one to believe that it is an ordered place in which good will necessarily triumph. And when it does there is a feeling that this is a matter of chance. For we sense increasingly that life is a matter of randomness or chaos rather than something that is rationally, let alone benignly, ordered. It should be noted that this question of whether the world is an evil place, or whether moral conduct in practice triumphs or gains recognition and reward, is logically distinct from the question of whether there are moral truths (and what they may be); after all, as we are often reminded, we are supposed to pursue a moral life for its own sake and not for reward or fame. However, it remains true that the perception that the world is on balance an evil place in which the bad often triumphs over the good is a powerful factor in suggesting to people that morality is not worth pursuing and need not be taken too seriously.

Although my opening example is taken from recent history, there is nothing new about the problem. Plato, 2,500 years ago, wrestled with exactly the same issue in his Republic: how to convince people that they should follow the path of morality, even when to do so was manifestly not to their immediate advantage on earth and when the idea of reward in an after-life was disallowed? On the latter point more will be said later. Here it is sufficient to say that the questions of whether there is a God and, if so, what he requires of us are distinct from the question of whether there are certain principles of conduct that ought to be followed because they are binding on us. Like Plato, I shall avoid both the easy (but unconvincing) claim that virtue will find its reward in heaven and the patently false claim that it is necessarily (or even very often) rewarded on earth.

Nor shall I hide behind the cliché that virtue is its own reward, although that claim could be said to be true in a sense. It is its own reward inasmuch as there may be no other reward, and it is certainly true that one ought to act morally because moral behaviour is by definition behaviour that we ought to engage in. But to argue that one ought to be moral because morality is what we ought to pursue is obviously circular. The question in that case becomes ‘Why should I do what ought to be done?’ in the sense of ‘What is going to motivate or make me do it?’ Nor shall I appeal directly to nature, although, as we shall see, nature does need to be considered in various respects. But I shall attempt to argue neither that there are certain tendencies that are natural and therefore ought to be indulged, nor that certain rights are natural or given in nature. Some might argue, for example, that, because we as a species are competitive, it is right that we should be so. But quite apart from the question mark over whether the factual claim is true (might not an equally good case be made for the intrinsic co-operative spirit of humans, notwithstanding the horrors we are capable of?), I accept the view widely endorsed by philosophers that one cannot derive an ‘ought’ directly from an ‘is’: to argue that because something is the case it ought to be, or that it is morally good, is fallacious. The language of rights is always problematic; but the notion that some rights are natural in the sense of given in nature clearly begs the question. It would be nice to think that we all have a natural right to freedom, but to claim that we do, meaning that nature has somehow dictated that we ought to be free, makes no discernible sense. (This issue will be explored in more depth in Chapter 4 below.)

My premise is that the world seems to be a random one. Our problem is to come to terms with the random nature of events. We seek to impose order on our collective behaviou...

Table des matières

• An Introduction to Moral Philosophy and Moral Education
• Other books by Robin Barrow
• Contents
• Acknowledgements
• Introduction
• Part I Understanding the nature and limits of moral theory
• Part II Outline of a moral theory
• Part III Some implications of the moral theory
• Part IV Moral education
• Bibliography
• Index