Here I
reply to a second question posed in my recent exchanges with Miranda: if
virtuous deeds are what virtuous persons do and virtuous persons are those who
do virtuous deeds (as I have argued) how do we know discover virtue is? Surely we need to know that in advance in
order to recognize the one and the other.
In chapter two of Moral
Origins, Christopher Boehm considers the nature and evolution of
psychopathy. The psychopath is a person
who is incapable of “internalizing” the moral rules by which his social fellows
live. He doesn’t feel the least bit
inclined to follow those rules and indeed may be unable to do so. Nor does he feel at all distressed or
regretful about the damage he does to his victims.
Boehm considers first a number
of cases where psychopathy was the result of an injury to the prefrontal cortex. This is apparently the spot in the brain
where our moral circuitry resides.
Whereas most of us are kept reasonable responsible and reliable by our
moral emotions, these “morally damaged minds” could not provide such a
service.
The result is a life that is an
utter mess. Unable to evaluate and
control their own impulses, they became friendless and wretched. The most famous case, Phineas Gage, ended up
as a sideshow freak.
Here, I submit, both the beauty
and utility of moral virtue is glaringly apparent. Without it, one cannot be a good friend and
partner, a good husband or father, or even provide well for oneself. One cannot lead a decent human life. All one needs to know to begin to recognize
virtuous deeds and virtuous persons is the difference between sickness and
health. Given that, the difference
between moral mediocrity and moral excellence (which is what virtue means) is
not problematic.
Boehm turns next to the “born
psychopath.” He notes an alarming
estimate that such individuals may be as common as one is every seven
hundred. That suggests that some
selection pressure is keeping their amoral traits in the gene pool. What might that mean?
Consider the hawks in the
previous post on the prisoner’s dilemma.
Unlike the cases mentioned above, born psychopaths are not always
behaviorally dysfunctional. They are
often highly intelligent and can be very good at pretending to have moral
passions that they do not genuinely feel.
They are nature’s conmen and predators.
I recall an episode of This American Life were it was suggested that
they make very good CEO’s of competitive companies.
Whether the advantages of
intelligence and a drive to dominion outweigh the utterly alone and loveless
existence that is the fate of such persons, I will not address here. I would only note that I have trouble
imagining that any morally healthy person would choose to be like that. What I will submit is that, apart from a
possible economic niche that might actually be useful to the rest of us, the
born psychopaths are enemies of nearly all of us.
Such creatures frequently
become monsters. They lie, steal, cheat,
and kill without remorse. Sometimes they
become serial killers and there is no telling how many of them are out
there. They probably flourish in war and
especially in civil war. I don’t doubt
but that they make excellent tyrants.
For those of us who are not
psychopaths, who have the normal pallet of moral emotions, who want to love and
have friends and families and fellow citizens, the psychopath is an enemy. If such a being is preserved by natural
selection, then that is one of the burdens of our species. It is no more difficult to see that he is bad
than it is to see the difference between health and sickness. Likewise, it is easy enough to see the
virtues of ordinary morality and the utter beauty of moral virtuosity.
Ps. Tonight I reread Aristotle’s discussion of
tyranny in the Politics, Book E, sections
10 & 11. Aristotle considers how tyrannies
are maintained and proposes two ways that are almost the opposite of one
another. The first is familiar to anyone
who knows much about modern totalitarianism.
Keep the population weak, divided, and fearful. Cut down any individual who shows signs of
courage and independence. Deploy your
secret police to find out what your subjects are doing and thinking and to make
it impossible for them to trust one another.
The second way is to pretend to
be a virtuous monarch. Give to each
subject as much security as you can safely allow. Avoid lavish displays and instead cultivate a
reputation for fiscal responsibility.
Present yourself as the protector of the people, responsible for their
security and prosperity. Of course this
is mere pretense. Its purpose is to keep
you in power, not to promote the common welfare; otherwise, you might really
become a virtuous monarch and that wouldn’t be preserving tyranny, would
it?
It’s not at all clear to me
that the two modes of preserving tyranny are really at odds. The most vicious tyrants usually try to do
both in so far as they can manage.
Aristotle’s point is that tyranny is ugly even when it pretends to be
beautiful. Whatever the advantages of
tyranny to the tyrant, it is clearly bad for almost all human beings under the
tyrant’s power. I submit that, in light
of this comparison, virtuous persons, virtuous actions, and virtuous government
are all easy to discern.
Pps. Salman Rushdie has a
fine piece on moral courage at the New York Times.
