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The Vice of Ingratitude; or, How I’m Bad at Christmas

photograph of Santa Claus offering a gift and money

Christmas is, without question, my favorite holiday. I love the hymns, the flavors, and the decorations; I find the incarnation the most moving element of Christianity; I love the chance to spend time with family.

However, there is one part of Christmas I dislike: the presents.

Now, I could tell some philosophically sophisticated story to justify my dislike.

  • I could argue that the ‘commercialism’ of presents trivializes the spiritual realities that we should focus on during Christmas.
  • I could argue that the whole idea of a season where you are expected to give a gift makes real gift-giving impossible. I could point out that it is much more meaningful to receive a gift merely out of thoughtful good will rather than out of thoughtful good will in light of social expectation.
  • I could argue that the gift process tends to ‘individualize’ the celebration, with each person getting things ‘for themselves.’ This is in contrast to, say, Christmas dinner where a family really does share a meal. (We ‘share’ gifts in a sense. Namely, I share a gift with you. But still each person gets their own gifts, gifts they primarily use on their own.)
  • I could argue that mutual gift giving is economically inefficient, since we are better at buying things for ourselves than for others.
  • I could argue that presents normalize a troubling dishonesty. You are expected to express joy at the gift that you receive, completely irrespective of how much you want it. It is considered impolite to be honest about how much you liked a gift.
  • I could argue that the norms surrounding giving presents creates a social pressure for people to spend money they don’t have and thus leads people into debt.

I really think each of these arguments is right, and really do believe we should stop giving presents for Christmas.

But none of these are the real reason I dislike presents. My deep dislike of presents stems from my struggles with gratitude. I find receiving presents awkward, and really struggle to appreciate what people get for me. (There are exceptions, one year my sister got me a Christmas ornament made from Plato’s Republic; it was an awesome gift and I remain extremely appreciative.)

So why do I find it awkward to receive presents?

My Struggle with Receiving Gifts

Here is my basic struggle with receiving gifts. Financially, I am perfectly well-off. So, if there is something that I think is worth the money, then I purchase it myself. If I think something is not worth the money, then I won’t purchase it for myself. But if I won’t purchase it myself, then why in the world would I want someone else to purchase it for me? The reason that I don’t want to waste money — namely that the money can be better spent on other things — applies just as much to other people.

I suspect that this is my real issue with presents because if this is my issue, then it explains why I am OK with some gifts. For example, I find it easy to appreciate gifts that someone makes or bakes for me. I can’t buy delicious homemade brownies or apple butter, so it makes total sense as a gift assuming the homemade stuff really is better than the store-bought alternative. Similarly, I find it easier to appreciate gifts when someone gives me something that I would have bought myself had I known it exists (like the Republic Christmas ornament).

The thing is, this objection only makes sense because I lack the virtue of gratitude.

The Vice of Ingratitude

To understand why, let’s consider a passage of Seneca’s On Benefits: 

A benefit cannot be touched with one’s hand; the business is carried out with one’s mind. There is a big difference between the raw material of a benefit and the benefit itself. Consequently, the benefit is not the gold, the silver, or any of the things which are thought to be most important; rather, the benefit is the intention of the giver.

. . .

So what is a benefit? It is a well-intentioned action that confers joy and in so doing derives joy, inclined towards and willingly prepared for doing what it does. And so it matters not what is done or what is given, but with what attitude, since the benefit consists not in what is done or given but rather in the intention of the giver or agent. . . . If benefits consisted in the things and not precisely in the intention of the benefactor, then the benefits would be greater to the extent that the things received are greater. But that is not the case. For often we are more obliged to the person who gave us a small gift in grand manner, who “matched the wealth of kings with his intention,” who gave little but did so freely, who ignored his own poverty while showing concern for mine, who was not just willing to help out but eager to do so, who felt like he was receiving a benefit because he was giving one, who gave as though he would later receive and received as though he had not given, who watched for, even sought out, an opportunity to serve. By contrast, as I have already said, benefits that have to be extracted from the donor or that fall carelessly from him—these benefits are not appreciated even if they seem large in bulk and in appearance . . .. What this other person gave is great; but he was hesitant, he put it off, he moaned while he was giving, he gave arrogantly, and he paraded the fact that he was giving, and did not intend to give pleasure to the recipient. He gave to his own ambition and not to me.

Seneca’s point is that, when one looks with the ‘eyes of gratitude’ it really is the ‘thought that counts.’ What the grateful person appreciates is not the actual thing given, but the good will that the gift expresses. We appreciate, not the token of love, but the love itself.

To the grateful person, the book they receive as a gift is more valuable than the same book purchased on Amazon. That is because the book acts as an outward sign of another’s good will, something much more valuable than the book itself.

The ungrateful person might appreciate a gift. But in contrast to the grateful person, they appreciate it merely for the value of the item. The ungrateful person is just as pleased at finding an abandoned book on the street as they are at being given the book by a friend or mentor.

Ingratitude as the Source of My Problem

If one values a gift merely for the item one receives, then my struggle with gifts makes perfect sense. If I’d sufficiently valued the item, I’d just buy it for myself. However, this is also a vicious way to value gifts. To value gifts merely for the item one receives, is to value gifts in an ungrateful and miserly way.

If instead, one values the gift in a grateful way — as an expression of another’s love and goodwill — then it’s impossible to purchase the gift for one’s self. Were I a more grateful person, were my attention to move naturally from the item to the other’s act of giving, then I’d not have any problem being appreciative of the gifts that I receive (so long as the gifts really do express love and good will, rather than mere social expectation to give around Christmas time).

Ingratitude, in my case, presents as an awkwardness in receiving presents. But that is not the only way it can present itself. Ungrateful people find gifts awkward when they also feel content with what they have. Because I have the items I want, and because I value gifts merely for the items that they are, I therefore struggle to value gifts people get for me.

However, ingratitude can also be present in people who focus too much on gifts. If an ungrateful person is not content with what they have, then they will value gifts. However, they will value the gift merely as the item they want, and not primarily as an expression of the other’s love and good will.

There are ways to test for this sort of ingratitude. For example, when you think about a gift, do you tend to also think about the person who gave it to you? Similarly, when you anticipate gifts do you hope for particular sorts of things? If so, that suggests that you value gifts primarily for what is given, and not the good will the gift expresses.

Conclusion

The grateful person appreciates gifts as an expression of good will. As such, grateful people care less about what they receive, and instead care more about the person who gave them the gift.

Of course, many of the norms that surround gift giving make it harder to appreciate gifts properly. For example, the expectation to give gifts for the holidays — or to give gifts to those who gave something to you — makes it harder to appreciate gifts as an expression of good will. We all know that many people buy gifts partly out of social expectation or because they know they are likely to receive a gift from us.

However, there are other ways to express love and good will beyond the giving of gifts. So while I doubt I can convince everyone to stop giving Christmas presents, perhaps I can encourage some change in our Christmas practices. Perhaps, given the various ways the gift-giving process has become corrupted, I can convince people to give fewer gifts, to spend less money, and to focus on other ways to express good will and love.

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The Vice of Ingratitude; or, How I’m Bad at Thanksgiving

photograph of set table for autumn harvest

While growing up, my family took part in a fairly standard thanksgiving tradition. We would all go around the table and each say something that we are thankful for.

I was bad at this tradition. Partly, that was because I was bad at vulnerability. To deflect from saying anything too deep, I’d normally give half joking answers. For example, one year I said I was grateful for ‘literacy.’ Now, in one sense ‘literacy’ is actually a good answer. It’s a wonderful thing that we often don’t stop to notice and appreciate. But even if it’s a ‘clever’ answer, it was also a dodge from revealing any real emotional depth.

Over the years I’ve gotten better at vulnerability. But I still struggle with gratitude more broadly. Indeed, the three vices I struggle with most are vainglory, ingratitude, and cowardice. I’ve written before on vainglory, and — with Thanksgiving fast approaching — it’s time to wrestle with ingratitude.

To home in on my struggles with gratitude, we first need to understand that there was a second problem with my answer of ‘literacy.’ To see the problem, we need to understand what gratitude is.

Defining Gratitude

The word ‘gratitude’ is used somewhat ambiguously in modern English. Sometimes we use words like ‘grateful’ and ‘thankful’ when we mean something like the word ‘glad.’ If I say:

“I’m thankful it didn’t rain during my wedding.”

I’m really saying something like:

“I’m glad it didn’t rain during my wedding.”

I’m basically saying that I’m pleased by the course of events. But gladness is different from gratitude. I am glad FOR something, but I’m grateful TO someone FOR something.

In gladness there are two parts of the relationship. (1) The person who is glad, and (2) what they are glad for. In contrast, in gratitude there are three parts of the relationship. (1) The person who is grateful, (2) the person (or persons) they are grateful to, (3) and what they are grateful for. Philosophers say that gladness is a “dyadic relation” (a relation between two elements) whereas gratitude is a “triadic relation” (a relation between three elements).

And this was the deep problem with my answer of ‘literacy.’ I was not grateful that I could read and write, rather I was glad that I could read and write. People would ask me the question “what are you thankful for?” but I would instead answer the question “what are you glad for?”

If I’d really wanted to express gratitude, I should have said something like:

“I’m grateful to my teachers and parents for helping me learn to read.”

Saying “I’m grateful for my job” is an expression of gladness. Saying “I’m grateful to my boss for keeping me on even after that mistake I made last December” is an expression of gratitude.

Gratitude Looks Outward

Often, when people try to list the things that they are thankful for, they instead list things about which they are glad. When I googled ‘things to be thankful for’ the first list to come up included: good health, weekends, pets, laughter, sunshine, books, indoor plumbing, modern medicine, and freedom of speech.

Now, it’s possible to be grateful for these things, but I expect that for the most part we are glad of these things rather than grateful for them. I certainly am glad for modern medicine, but I don’t exactly feel ‘grateful’ to medical researchers. The truth is, I barely think about medical researchers at all, and certainly they do not leap to mind when I reflect on the wonders of modern medicine.

Similarly, I’m glad that I’m healthy and that there is laughter in the world. But I’m not grateful for such things.

The thing is, given my own philosophical commitments, I should be grateful. I shouldn’t just be glad that it didn’t rain during my wedding, I should be thankful to God that it did not rain during my wedding. This is one of the distinctive features of most theistic traditions, anytime it’s appropriate to feel glad it’s also appropriate to feel gratitude since all good things ultimately come from God (see Ephesians 5:20, Colossians 3:17, 1 Thessalonians 5:18, James 1:17, The Qur’an 16:53).

I could tell myself that I’m grateful to God for good health and laughter. But the truth is I’m not that grateful a person. I’m glad of those things, and I’m philosophically committed to those good things coming from God, but I struggle to feel gratitude.

I’m glad for modern medicine, and not grateful to medical researchers for modern medicine. Similarly, I’m glad for my health, and not grateful to God for my health. In both cases, I can tell that I’m predominantly glad — instead of predominantly grateful — because of how my attention gets directed. When I think about my health, my attention turns inward. I attend to my own life because I’m content with my own life.

Were I predominantly grateful — instead of predominantly glad — then my attention would be disposed to move outward. When I think about my health, my attention would naturally redirect to God and to all the people who have worked hard to help develop modern medicine. The person who is glad for their political freedoms thinks predominantly about what the freedoms mean for their own life. The person who is grateful for their political freedoms is disposed to also think about the sacrifices that others have made to bring political reform.

Gratitude as a Prosocial Emotion

Gratitude, by its very nature, draws one’s attention out of one’s self. The grateful person does not rest content in their own life but is led to think well of other people.

It is this feature of gratitude, that it directs our attention outward, that makes gratitude such an important virtue. The more you see your own goods as gifts, the more you recognize the fittingness of giving good things to others in return (c.f. Colossians 3:1-17). I expect you’ve noticed this in your own life. When someone does something kind to you, you are often inclined to do something kind for others. If you find twenty dollars on the street, that is just good fortune. But if the person in front of you pays for your twenty dollar meal, you are much more likely to pay for the person behind you in turn.

This is why gratitude leads to prosocial behavior. Studies have found that gratitude increases charitable giving, strengthens relationships, and improves the quality of work. Of course, happiness and gladness also lead to these things, but the evidence seems to suggest that directed gratitude is an especially powerful prosocial influence.

My Struggles with Gratitude

When I said I was thankful for literacy, I was not thinking about the other people who have helped me learn to read. And even now, aware of the moral importance of gratitude, I find myself more often glad than grateful.

What is the cause of this ingratitude?

Seneca, in his book On Benefits, suggests that there are three primary causes of ingratitude:

Now we must consider what it is that most makes people ungrateful: it is either an excessive regard for oneself—the deeply ingrained human failing of being impressed by oneself and one’s accomplishments—or greed or envy.

In my own case, I suspect that it’s mostly the first cause. I struggle with gratitude because I fail to appreciate just how deeply the goods of my life are owed to the free gifts of others. Intellectually¸ I can recognize that I would not have the good life I have were it not for the generosity of others. But that recognition is all on the surface, it has not seeped down ‘into my bones.’

If I’m not careful, I fall into the assumption “that I earned all that I have” or at least that what others have given me is only “what they owed me in the first place” (Adapted Quote, Seneca 26.II). To inculcate a virtue of gratitude, I need a clearer moral vision. I need to learn to more clearly and reflexively recognize all the many positive influences that others have been in my life.

The hope is that if I spend enough time noting things to be thankful for (not just noting things about which I’m glad, but actually noting the people who have done good things for me), then I’ll eventually develop the virtue of gratitude. Perhaps I’ll be able to recognize, down in my bones, the wonderful gift I have in the life I get to live.

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On Speaking Up in Polite Company

photograph of place settings at table for Christmas dinner

One of the less joyous aspects of a typical holiday season is breaking bread with family members whose views one finds not merely wrongheaded, but abhorrent. When they choose to air those views around the table, one faces a dilemma: speak up or quietly endure? As with so many choices we encounter in our daily lives, philosophy can help us sort out the good arguments for acting from the bad.

There are three basic positions one could take on this issue: that we always ought to speak up, that we never ought to speak up, and that we sometimes ought to speak up. I will consider these positions in turn, arguing that the last is probably the correct one.

There are at least four arguments for always speaking up. The first is that if you don’t speak up, you are a hypocrite. The second is that if you don’t speak up, then you are choosing to do what is “polite,” rather than what is morally required. But the norms of politeness are always trumped by moral norms, so one ought to always speak up. The third argument is that we are naturally inclined not to speak up, so the best policy — the policy that will ensure that we do the right thing most often — is to always speak up. Finally, the fourth argument is that it is always possible to speak up diplomatically, thereby mitigating any harm that might be done by speaking up.

The hypocrisy argument leads with a false premise and then begs the question. It is simply not the case that if you don’t speak up, you’re a hypocrite. A hypocrite is someone who makes a pretense of conformity to some value or norm for illegitimate reasons. (This is why hypocrisy is a term of opprobrium.) Even if not speaking up always involved making a false impression that one agrees with some sentiment or adheres to some norm, one’s reasons for not speaking up need not be illegitimate. For example, maintaining familial tranquility for the sake of others is not always an illegitimate reason. In any case, the argument also assumes that being a hypocrite is always a morally bad thing. But hypocrisy can be morally justified, at least all-things-considered. For example, it may be permissible for a sexist employer to hire well-qualified female employees in order to impress a progressive female colleague. Here, the employer’s hypocrisy is arguably justified by the good results it produces.

The politeness argument simply assumes that the norms of politeness are not moral norms. But in many cases, etiquette supports morality. The requirement to be courteous, for example, seems to derive its force and legitimacy from the clearly moral requirements to show basic respect or to be kind. As Karen Stohr argues, the conventions of etiquette are the primary means by which we express our moral attitudes and carry out important moral goals. So, in choosing to do what is polite, one does not always depart from the norms of morality. If politeness requires not speaking up, that may be because it is the morally right thing to do.

The claim that always speaking up is the best policy may well be true. After all, most of us are probably seriously biased in favor of not speaking up. So, adopting an inflexible policy of always speaking up may maximize our chances of doing the right thing. But from the fact that the policy of always speaking up will most often lead us to do the right thing it does not follow that speaking up is always the right thing to do. In general, we are sometimes justified in adopting moral policies if they lead us to do the right thing most often, even if they sometimes lead us morally astray. For example, if I know that I am a bad sport at tennis, I may adopt a policy of sprinting away from my opponent after a loss to keep myself giving him the middle finger. This policy will lead me to refrain from doing the wrong thing most of the time, and so may be the one I ought to adopt, even though there may be instances where my opponent richly deserves the finger.

The fourth argument, that we are always able to speak up diplomatically, can help us see a bit more clearly what speaking up involves. It seems to me that it is impossible to speak up diplomatically. Diplomats try to finesse conflict to the point that it ceases to appear to be conflict. Speaking up means, at minimum, making one’s opposition to another person’s views as clear as possible. So, far from always being able to speak up diplomatically, we are in fact not speaking up if we try to do it diplomatically. What we should perhaps aim at is speaking up civilly, but this just means that we should speak up with politeness or courtesy, by showing basic respect to our opponent. This is different from finessing our conflict with our opponent, and even civil opposition can be highly inflammatory in certain contexts.

The arguments for always speaking up appear to be flawed in various ways. On the other hand, the arguments for never speaking up seem to be even worse. Some people will point out that speaking up will rarely change one’s opponent’s mind. This may well be true, but rarely changing one’s opponent’s mind is not the same as never doing so. More fundamentally, for the argument to work, it must assume that the only purpose of speaking up is to change one’s opponent’s mind. In fact, it seems to me that the reason one should speak up is primarily to signal to others that one does or does not support some sentiment, norm, or value, which may give them comfort, strength, or the courage to voice their own views. For example, if a family member voices strong contempt for homosexuality in front of one’s gay cousin, signaling that one does not agree with that contempt can let the cousin know that she is not alone or unloved, and may empower others in the family to confront the homophobe. The signaling function of speaking up is why I earlier claimed that speaking up means making one’s opposition to another person’s views as clear as possible: one must send a clear signal of one’s opposition in order to comfort or encourage others.

We come, then, to the conclusion that we sometimes ought to speak up. But when should we do it? The answer in abstract is deceptively simple, even simplistic: when doing so would bring about more good than any other option realistically available. In saying this, I am doing nothing more than applying the moral doctrine of consequentialism to a practical problem. Consequentialism tells us that we ought to judge an action’s rightness by its consequences, and I see no reason why this philosophy does not capture every morally relevant feature of the problem of speaking up.

In saying that the right thing to do with respect to speaking up is whatever brings about the most good, however, I am not necessarily recommending that people try to perform a consequentialist calculus whenever they face such situations. In practice it may be difficult to know which options available to us will do more good than others. Our epistemic limitations, together with our own biases against conflict, are reasons why we might be justified from a consequentialist point of view in adopting a policy of always speaking up — even if sometimes this policy will lead us to speak up when doing so will not bring about the most good.

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Should I Stay, or Should I Go: Holidays in the Age of Coronavirus

photograph of "Stay Safe" message among pumpkins and thanksgiving background

Some of the busiest holidays in America — Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years — bring floods of people into airports, who are all looking to travel across the country to see family that they might not have seen all year. Normally, the last few months of the year bring plenty of opportunity for those families to meet each other over pounds of food and gift exchanges. The year of 2020, however, is anything but normal. The coronavirus has put a halt to any and all ideas of what was once considered typical. This virus has been ravaging the world for almost a year now, and the country has managed to still celebrate some holidays, such as the Fourth of July, as summer weather allowed for outdoor gatherings where it was easy to social distance, and harder for the virus to spread. Now that winter is coming on, however, these get-togethers will have to be inside the homes of Americans, with far more risk of transmission. As cases climb and hospitals fill, one has to ask what the appropriate course of action is for Americans who want (understandably) to visit family during the holidays, while this pandemic is surging forward with little end in sight.

As scientists have been concerned about since the beginning of this pandemic, the world appears to be entering a second wave of coronavirus cases. After opening up during the summer months, Europe is introducing new restrictions limiting which businesses can open, as well as night curfews for citizens, as they see cases beginning to surge across the continent. Due to far less restrictions than Europe, and the lack of a cohesive federal response to COVID, America never really cleared the first wave of the virus. While the summer months saw a decline in cases, recently the country set a new record of 90,000 cases in a single day, bringing the total cases to nearly 9 million just in the U.S. As cases rise, hospitals are quickly beginning to fill up, which when this virus first hit led to people dying in hallways of hospitals, mass burials, and hospital workers not having proper equipment to protect themselves from the virus. While in the summer it appeared as if the country was past those horrible conditions, the colder months have brought a reminder of the fact that the world is still very much in the midst of this pandemic.

As the temperature grows colder people are coming in contact more often in enclosed spaces, which increases the spread of the virus. But there is also the issue of pandemic fatigue. This virus has taken over every aspect of life, putting extra stress on everyone’s lives. People have had to create new routines and question behaviors that they once thought completely normal, like hugging grandma. People are growing weary of the fact that life is not what it once was, and that there is an ever-present threat that continues to loom over the entire globe. This exhaustion can lead to an increase in cases as people begin to exercise more risky behavior, like dining inside or going to large events, as if we’ve beaten the virus. As we head into the holidays it makes sense that people want to spend time with their loved ones, especially ones that they haven’t seen for months. The winter months already see a combination of seasonal depression with regular depression among people, and COVID certainly led to a decline of mental health among Americans. The rates of both suicides and opioid overdoses have become very concerning for public health experts who warn of an underlying mental health crisis as a result of the stress and anxiety surrounding the coronavirus. People have been isolated from their families and friends for months because of travel restrictions, and now is the time when people most often travel to see their loved ones. It makes perfect sense that people would want to gather for comfort and strength in these very uncertain and stressful times. Many families have lost loved ones — there are over 230,00 deaths in the U.S. currently — and this is the first time that they will have to experience these holidays without those people present. Grief is a powerful emotion, and mixed with pandemic fatigue, this may lead to people willing to take more risks in order to seek comfort in their families.

The winter holidays are most definitely some of the busiest days of the years for travel, either by car, plane, or other transport. This creates a big risk for people who want to visit their families, but need to visit airports to make it home. Just last year over 45 million people traveled on American airlines throughout the globe over this time period. Considering the fact that many countries have restrictions on who can come in, and America is often on the list of those nationalities who are not allowed in, that number will most definitely be lower. Masks are required throughout the airports and during the flight, which would make it seem as if these flights were quite safe. A new study even came out recently which concluded air travel was safer than eating at a restaurant, albeit this study was sponsored by the air industry, which is desperate for flyers due to the loss of revenue from air travel being restricted throughout the entire globe. A recent long distance flight to Ireland, however, questions the validity of this study as 13 passengers tested positive for the coronavirus on the flight, and then passed it on to people in Ireland, for a total of 59 cases all linked to this flight. Throughout the pandemic, the coronavirus has shown how little we actually know about the virus, as even mask wearing was once deemed not important by health officials. But now calls for a national mask mandate have been amplifying, as they have proven to be extremely effective in stopping transmission of the virus. So the question of risk regarding air travel remains up in the air.

This last year has probably been one of the most stressful, if not the most stressful, period of most people’s lives around the world. This virus is something that none of us can ignore because it affects everyone. If it takes the whole world to spread the virus, it seems it is going to take the whole world working together in order to stop it. This end appears to still be quite a ways off, however, and people are still left with a feeling of inevitableness of this eternal feeling of waiting. Understandably, the first instinct for a lot of people might be to reach out to those closest to them. Some might want to continue decades-long traditions that their families have carried on in an attempt to find a sense of normalcy in these strange times. The Centers for Disease Control (CDC) has information on their website to help people make responsible decisions if they decide to have some sort of celebration for the holidays. But, one must remember that these are strange times, and any contact with people outside those you live with carries some level of risks. As with most things during this pandemic, people will have to consider the risks of celebrating the holidays this year with those they hold most dear.

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Why Are Political Debates So Difficult?: A Holiday Survival Guide

Group of people gathered around a holiday table

The holiday season is upon us, which often means spending more time with family. For many of us, this also means the risk of heated political disagreements around the dinner table. If you’re like me, you’ve since learned that trying to talk politics with family members is more often than not a waste of time: no one ever really changes their mind, and everyone just ends up being mad at each other. So perhaps you’ve adopted a new policy: ignore the debates, or don’t engage, or change the topic as quickly as you can. It’s easier on everyone.

Why do these dinner table arguments seem so futile? I think one reason is that many of our political disagreements come down to an underlying moral disagreement, namely disagreements about what’s right and wrong, what kinds of obligations we have to others, or just how people should be treated in general. So when you and I disagree about whether, say, we ought to increase minimum wage, or whether we ought to tax people for services that they don’t themselves use, a major part of our disagreement is about when we ought to make sacrifices for the benefits of others. And then it’s up for debate as to how much of a hit myself and my family should take for the well-being of others: some people think we ought to do a lot to help each other out, especially if we have a lot, whereas others think that they shouldn’t be asked to make sacrifices, especially if what they have is something that they feel that they have earned and are entitled to.

While moral debates happen all the time, experience suggests they’re difficult to resolve. Why might this be the case? First off, what often seems to be so difficult about moral debates is that those who disagree with us about moral matters don’t seem terribly interested in actually listening to what we have to say: they don’t want to change their minds, they just want to hold on to what they think is right. Second, that someone disagrees with us about a moral matter might lead us to start thinking in “us” versus “them” kind of terms. Thinking in this way could bring along with it biases that lead us to think that “they” not worth listening to, or that “their” arguments couldn’t possibly be any good. This happens all the time when we try to talk politics: we start thinking of the other person not as an individual, but as a member of a group that we don’t like (those heartless Republicans don’t want to listen to us level-headed Democrats, perhaps, or those hippie Democrats don’t want to listen to us level-headed Republicans).

There are other factors that complicate moral disagreements. Consider first the ways in which we might try to resolve disagreements of different kinds. Say, for example, that you and I disagree about the year a movie was released, or what the capital of Indiana is, or how many feet are in a yard. These disagreements are easily resolved: a quick appeal to the internet will settle the matter. Or maybe we disagree about something more complicated: say we work in construction and we disagree about where the best place to build that bridge is. It seems like the best way to resolve this debate is for both of us to present our reasons and evidence, and then, as long as we’re willing to listen to each other, the better plan will become apparent through our conversations with each other. Not all such debates will go so smoothly, of course, but they seem to definitely be resolvable, much more easily than debates that we have about what’s right and wrong.

So here’s where I think part of the problem lies: we can resolve, or at least make progress on disagreements about movie release dates, the imperial measurement system, state capitals, and even optimal bridge placement, by acquiring new knowledge. One of the main reasons we disagree about these matters is that we know, or think that we know, different things. In order to resolve our disagreement, then, we need to get on the same page by knowing the same relevant things. Acquiring this knowledge can be easy, like when we look up something on the internet, or it can be more difficult, like when we need to do more to consider what we have evidence for thinking is true when building a bridge. Either way, we can get this knowledge by listening to others, by consulting reputable sources, and by considering the evidence.

But this doesn’t appear to be how we resolve our moral debates. I can’t look up online how I ought to balance my personal sacrifices against the possible increased wellbeing of others. Actually, I probably can find at least what someone thinks is an answer to this kind of question on the internet. But it’s not going to settle any debates if I point to someone on the internet who says “you should care more about others!” in the way that I can point to the fact that Wikipedia says that “Indianapolis is the capital of Indiana!” It’s also hard to see how I could try to give you the knowledge that I think you’re missing in order to resolve our moral debate: if I think that you really should give more to those who need it, and you think you’re doing plenty already, it often seems like the best we can do is to agree to disagree. But this is not a resolution, it’s a stalemate. As Kayla Chadwick laments, it’s hard to see how we can convince someone of something so basic as the fact that they should care about other people.

So what’s the solution? Here’s a suggestion: perhaps moral debates need to be resolved not by just sharing knowledge with each other, but by seeking out new understanding. This might require helping others see things from a new perspective, or helping them draw new connections between their beliefs that they hadn’t considered before, or challenging conclusions that they’ve drawn in the past, or helping them have new experiences, or all of the above. It may be the case that not all of these tasks can be accomplished just by talking to one another: for example, if you’re really not moved by the plight of someone that you are easily able to help, it’s hard to see how I can get you to understand just by giving you information at the dinner table.

Nevertheless, we might still be able to accomplish at least part of the task of conveying understanding by talking to one another: I might be able to use my words to share experiences I’ve had, or to challenge assumptions that you have made, or to help you see relationships between things you believe that you didn’t realize before. What’s probably not going to work is what works in other kinds of debates, namely the bald presentation of your reasons, or simply telling someone that this is the right way to think about things. The mere fact that you think something is true is probably not going to help me understand why it’s true, and so if we’re going to resolve our moral debates we’ll probably have to work a lot harder.

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Cultural Appropriation and Holidays

El Día de los Muertos (The Day of the Dead) was originally an ancient Aztec tradition which celebrated the passing of loved ones from years past. Over the last 3,000 years, the tradition has spread from southern Mexico up through northern Mexico and has combined with Christian practices as well. It used to occur in the beginning of the summer, but has since shifted to align with All Souls Day, also known as All Saints Day. Despite the tradition’s longstanding history of adaptation and change, Tuscon, Arizona’s 26th All Souls’ Procession, a celebration of the community’s deceased loved ones, was greeted with disapproval from some for alleged cultural appropriation of Mexicans. How legitimate are these allegations?

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