This is one of the opening remarks of an essay by the famous American philosopher Susan Wolff, in which she discusses what it is like to be morally perfect. If you engage in the suggested thought experiment as you read and pay close attention to its conclusions, you will see that it offers freedom from the trap of moral perfection.
In her essay, Moral Saints (1982), Wolff lists two types of moralists whom she calls the Loving Saint and the Rational Saint. So, according to her point of view, a “loving saint” does all moral deeds with cheerful courage: such a life does not exclude fun, but she is unshakably and undoubtedly focused on morality. We imagine a “loving saint” as a person who happily sells all his property to donate the proceeds to help the hungry. The "rational saint" is also devoted to morality, but he is not moved by a soul full of love, but by a sense of duty.
A “loving saint” can be more cheerful than rational, or more insane, it all depends on the temperament of the individual. But does the constant elation of the “loving saint” make it easier to be with him, or can it turn away from him? There is an admonition arising from Buddhism (although in fact it was invented by the American scientist Joseph Campbell), which suggests "in joy to share all the sorrows of the world," and the "loving saint" follows the instruction to the maximum: but perhaps such a joy for you in the face of the world's worst horrors, it will seem meaningless or irrelevant. On the other hand, rational saints, with their unwavering commitment to duty, can also be extremely annoying company.
Both types of moral perfectionists can create difficult feelings if you don't belong to these groups yourself. Will they constantly bore you and encourage you to give more to the world? They may already be part of altruistic movements and provide advice on the most effective ways to use your time and money to help others. How can such a person make you feel if you devote a lot of free time and attention to video games, and not to Oxfam, for example, Oxfam is an international association for solving problems of poverty.? Or when you spend most of your spare money on luxuries like wine and chocolate, instead of providing others with a minimal food? Do you want to associate with someone whose one hundred percent moral orientation makes you feel guilty?
Wolf believes that the desire to become morally perfect can turn a person into a "quiet horror" with which it is impossible to live and be close. British writer Nick Hornby acted out a cosmic version of this scenario in How to Be Kind (2001). But it is obvious that a "real saint", being as kind a person as possible, does not want you to feel bad all the time: what good is it? After all, aren't people with truly perfect morals not as sensitive to their influence on your life as they are to the influence on the world in general? For Wolff, the problem is whether moral advocates are generally capable of hiding their true thoughts about the degree of your moral dedication. Are they capable of genuinely laughing at cynical jokes that run counter to the very essence of morality? Anyway, when will they have time to chat with you? If they are highly moral, then they should have a lot of important things in their diary.
But not only friends do not fit into the lives of people who give themselves as much as possible to moral exploits. Can a moral saint “waste” time watching movies and television? And money for delicious food or travel? Or spend your energy on sports, and not on serious important things? Or bird watching and hiking? There is no time for the theater, or for just lying down with a good book. The problem with extreme altruism, as Oscar Wilde said about socialism, is that it takes too many evenings. Moralists could make time for some of these activities if they could be combined with ethical projects: for example, watching sports at a fundraiser; or admire the scenery on the way to a problem point on the world map.
If you don't have time for friends, entertainment, art or nature, then you are missing out on what Wolf calls the immoral part of life. She does not mean that the immoral is equal to the immoral; just because an activity has nothing to do with morality (for example, playing tennis) does not mean that it is immoral. The point is that intuitive morality focuses on issues such as treating others equally and trying to alleviate someone's suffering. But there are other great things too: relaxing with a friend, or exploring the forests of Alaska, or enjoying the depth of Indian curry. Moral generosity is just one aspect of all the good that exists, but if you live as if only the moral aspect matters, then you are most likely impoverishing your life in terms of those very "immoral aspects." Which means
Wolff suggests that “loving saints” are perfectly happy to live a life in which immoral benefits play no role. A super-skeptical moral life - no friendship, no hobbies, no distraction from the ethical - brings satisfaction to the "loving saint." But Wolf cannot understand how this is possible? Doesn't the “loving saint” see everything that he is missing, and if so, why does it not affect his happiness? Perhaps, Wolff suggests, the perception of a “loving saint” is narrowed: he lacks the ability to see that there is more to life than morality. This explains why a “loving saint” can remain happy in his position. By comparison, Wolf believes that "rational saints" understand that there is a huge part of life that they are missing out on. According to the author, rational moral perfectionists persist in their meager lives only out of a sense of duty. But why go so far and completely and irrevocably devote life only to moral laws? Wolff provides answers that make the “rational saint” seem less rational, perhaps because of self-dislike and / or pathological fear of judgment.
Wolf's two versions of moral holiness are based on two of the most influential moral philosophical concepts in modern Western philosophy: utilitarianism (which breathed life into Wolf's concept of a “loving saint”) and Kantianism (which became the basis for a “rational saint”). Wolf asks the question, what would our life be like if we gave ourselves to these ethical worldview positions to the maximum? She believes that none of these concepts are suitable for a fulfilling life: each of them, as we have seen, gives rise to the appearance of a good life and is so strongly focused on the needs of others that it leaves no time for personal enjoyment of the benefits of life, in fact, for the very life. That is, you spend yourself on becoming the embodiment of the words of Bernard Williams - a servant of the moral system.
Something has gone wrong with modern morality if the expression “good life” sounds ambiguous.
A distinguishing feature of both utilitarianism and Kantianism is that in both concepts personal happiness is not highly valued, if at all. Utilitarianism is a philosophy of "ensuring the greatest happiness for the greatest number of people," and if the needs of many require great sacrifices from you, including the sacrifice of your own happiness, then it should be so. Wolf rightly considers the perfect utilitarian, the “loving saint,” to be a happy person; in fact, this is an ideal concept. But you cannot become a utilitarian for reasons of personal happiness or well-being: this is not the meaning of utilitarian morality. Your personal happiness, taken in the context of billions of conscious lives, is just a drop in the ocean. If it is a good deed for the greater good, such as selling your main assets and channeling the proceeds to charity, will make you unhappy, it is tantamount to shame. However, your unhappiness does not prevent the right things from staying right.
Kantian morality is even less concerned with personal happiness. Kantianism got its name from the 18th century philosopher Immanuel Kant and is a philosophy that emphasizes our rational responsibility to other intelligent beings (hence the name Wolf "Rational Saint"). The reason we should do the right thing is because it is our duty to others, not because it makes us happy. If other sentient beings need our help - for example, they are hungry or oppressed - then we owe them, as they would owe us if we switched places. Kant really believed that morality makes a person worthy of happiness, but this was only his assumption. It can be assumed that if Kant had survived to this day, he would have liked the remark,
If modern moral teachings give rise to unattractive ideas about life, then the thought arises that something is wrong with these theories. It might be worthwhile to better understand what the good life is all about. Basically, you can be convinced that something went wrong with modern morality, just because the expression "good life" has become ambiguous. This expression is ambiguous because it requires clarification: by "good life" do you mean a morally correct life or a desirable life? The first way, obviously, evokes images of caring for the poor in the head, and the second - a glass of champagne. A morally good life is identified with the life of an unselfish altruist, and a desirable life is identified with a life filled with selfish satisfaction of needs and the pursuit of pleasure. Thus,
These reflections, among other things, helped us turn to the ancient Greek ethics of virtue in search of the concepts from which the schism began. Many famous philosophers of the time, especially Aristotle, held views of ethics that did not encourage selfishness or selflessness: your life could be connected with others and included a pleasant participation in their lives, but did not require complete dedication to the needs of strangers. Ethics focused on how to be a good friend, not how to save the world. And, as with good friendships, this ethic is good for you personally and for others. At the heart of Aristotle's ethics is a win-win. An ethical life is a desirable life, and the realization of our social nature lies in living in mutual agreement with others. Thus, the views of the ancient Greeks, in this case Aristotle,
Wolff, who describes moral holiness in unattractive terms, can be accused of prompting a return to antiquated views, such as those of Aristotle. But on a careful reading of her essay, you realize that she has no such intention. Modern morality has evolved in this way and includes responsibility towards strangers, which is not an aspect that Wolf struggles with. She is quite satisfied that the concept of modern morality is exactly what it is: as altruistic as possible, impartial and global in scope. It is perfectly true that morality concerns the lives of others thousands of miles away, and that the value of the life of a stranger is equal to the value of the life of one of your loved ones.
Wolf only points out that the terrible state of the world requires such moral dedication that it can completely swallow a person's life. One can become or strive to become a moral saint. And for Wolf, this is no reason to turn away from modern morality. She believes that you need to draw a line between what is morally required of you and what is morally commendable but not morally necessary (what philosophers sometimes call excess). Morality does not oblige you to become a moral saint. Morality does not require that you have no interests other than moral ones. You have life. Having privacy does not mean that you don't take morality seriously or that you have stopped trying to be a decent person.
It is foolish to think that if you do not choose moral holiness, then you automatically become a bad person. There is a moral implication here: rejecting the idea that you should aim to score 10/10 for morale also cannot be an excuse for a low score. In Moral Saints, Wolf criticizes moral holiness and, if properly understood, defends morality. She has made a compelling case for abandoning a lifestyle based solely on moral needs, but that does not mean that she wants to throw away the moral foundation along with holy water.
You can be a perfectly wonderful person without being absolutely moral.
One of the persistent themes of Wolf's philosophy is that it is generally not the most reasonable idea to turn to moral theories in order to find a comprehensive answer to the question: "How to live?" Moral concepts talk about important areas of being, but they don't tell us everything about life or how to live it. Therefore, the criticism of moral theories is that if we put only one theory at the head of the table and looked for answers to all questions only in it, our life would be unattractive. This would mean that we misunderstand the role of moral theory. Wolff, putting moral theory in its place, wants to free moral philosophy from its excessive moralism. In the art of living, we can use various sources for inspiration: a lover we met on the Internet, a neighbor, a character from a TV series, a poem.
Wolf focuses on the fact that in life it is necessary to leave room for personal interests and hobbies, believing that the meaning of life is unlikely to be contained in morality. This is partly due to the fact that meaning for us is often associated with our loved ones, and in many cases your loyalty to family and friends will come first, more than something morally ideal. A recent psychological study at Oxford and Yale has shown that if you love your grandson, you would rather give money to repair his car than to a charity that fights malaria, even if it does more good. The fact that you are not morally perfect does not make you a bad person. Wolf says that you can be a perfectly wonderful person without being absolutely moral.
You can find the meaning of life in a specific ethical area, for example, working in the field of helping the homeless, this path is different from the constant attempts to do everything from a moral point of view over and over again. Indeed, the individual character of your life is determined by a combination of relationships, passions, and interests. Wolf, contrary to popular philosophical concepts, is of the opinion that the meaning of life depends on how absorbed you are in activities that are objectively good.
But the interests that usually provide meaning are considered immoral benefits that the moral saint lacks so much: relationships (including friendship), communication with nature, love of fine arts or great sports, etc.
These "immoral" goods are illustrated (as philosophers say) with real-life examples. In my case, a love relationship is a 20-year friendship with Chris; interaction with the natural world is a night walk along Wiken Fen (Cambridgeshire); love for fine art is love for paintings by Frida Kahlo; love of great sport is Saturday after a football match. Each of us has our own subjective interests in life.
Nature lovers, as a rule, are not worried about nature in general, but about specific incidents with which they are directly related: how petrels will survive on the Bampton Rocks when they overfill all the sand eels and the like. You can start out with love for petrels and end up with a moral dimension to save them: perhaps join a local environmental movement. This proves that Wolf's distinction between moral and immoral is blurred in practice. Love can lead you from an immoral interest to a moral obligation, and it is difficult to determine where that line is.
For example, you might become an employee of the benefits department and start caring for a specific resident in your area. Concern for a poor pensioner or disabled person grows into concern about policies that negatively affect their lives and the lives of their families. You can become a moral advocate in your quest to influence politics. But if you've learned Wolf's lessons, you won't give up your whole life to that goal. You will continue to make time for friends, for unbridled summer nights, watching bumblebees buzzing in lavender, and you will not lose this brilliant sense of humor, full of sarcasm. In other words, you will not become a moral saint.
