Moral philosophers, sociologists, anthropologists, and the like, will tell you that there are important differences between moral relativism and cultural relativism. Whatever. It’s always struck me as pretty silly to think of morality abstracted from culture and to propose any convincing concept of culture that doesn’t take morality into account. In other words, it seems pretty clear that morality and culture pretty much go hand in hand and that the differences between moral relativism and cultural relativism insisted on by moral philosophers, sociologist, anthropologists, and the like, are quibbles with which I am free to have no truck, thank god. They’re just not very interesting to me.
Briefly, in case I have any readers left who are not Greg Clinton, moral relativism describes the position that the morality of a particular group must be understood within the context of that group’s culture, history, etc. Cultural relativism, likewise, posits that we should seek to understand people’s beliefs and practices by situating them within their particular culture. Holding these positions does not, however, give a lot of insight into what to do with them. But holding them is a good start, and the moral and cultural relativist views are pretty much mainstream in the sort of enlightened intellectual spheres you find on many college campuses around the world that don’t have majors in Nail Technician Specialist.
A basic sense for moral relativism, for example, allows one to consider that their own deep-seated belief that it’s wrong, just plain wrong, to eat non-fluffy dogs is pretty much equivalent to another person’s deep-seated belief that it’s wrong, just plain wrong, to dress dogs in silly costumes and push them around in strollers. Moral relativism helps us to understand that there are compelling reasons having to do with culture and history that lead some people to have no moral qualms whatsoever about eating dogs so long as they’re not fluffy. Likewise, moral relativism helps others to see that the explanation for why some people feel like it’s perfectly fine to dress dogs in silly costumes and push them around in strollers is that they’re soft in the head. Touched, if you will. Idiots.
Cultural relativism is same same.
For example, to understand why someone might enjoy eating non-fluffy dogs, you should look at the history of the place where the non-fluffy dog eater lives. Doing so, you will find that they eat a lot of stuff non-dog eaters don’t eat—roasted rabbit heads, still-beating cobra hearts, rats—not just because their history is one of hunger and hardship, but also because it’s a history of looking for food that will make you more virile and sexually potent. This is important to know. This is cultural relativism at work.
Likewise, if you want to even begin to understand why some people—Americans, say—enjoy dressing their dogs up in silly costumes and pushing them around in strollers, you should look at the culture and history of America. Doing so will reveal that America went completely insane around the time when there was that commercial with the bald chick shouting “stop the insanity.”
In my own clearly deluded mind, I imagine that the truly important thing to be gained from a really good liberal arts education is a decent grasp of moral and cultural relativism. You will have this grasp because you will have read lots of books that will have, to paraphrase Richard Rorty, given you lots of options about how to determine your life, instead of lots of social media posts that confirm what you already pretty firmly believe.
Too preachy and curmudgeonly, Greg? I’m sure you’re right. And I appreciate that I can always rely on you for measured and insightful and constructive criticism. But the preachy curmudgeonliness of it is my favorite part. And not everything in the Escape Plan can be as light and hysterical as my notes for the Vietnam version of Yelp I’m developing: Ylep, can it? Can it?
It can’t.
Point is, a healthy sense for moral and cultural relativism is completely necessary for being the kind of good and gentle and tolerant citizen of the cosmopolis contemporary life demands. It allows one to go about the business of being a person in the world without being—how does one say it in French? Ah, yes—a douche.