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Question of the Month
Is Morality Objective Or Subjective?
Each answer below receives a random book. Apologies to the entrants not included.
If there is an omnipotent and benevolent God, then moral commands issued by that God would exist independently of our minds or emotions, and so would be objectively real. A moral law would be a fact, much as it is a fact that water is H2O. But if we take God out of the equation we’re left with the natural world, which provides no such guidance, and when we look across different societies we find a variety of moral codes. This might imply that morality is subjective – that moral precepts are expressions of a cultural preference, or rules set out by the powerful for their own advantage, or mere expressions of feelings (‘boo/hurrah’). The subjectivist case can be reinforced by any genealogy of morality, highlighting the seemingly endless changes in beliefs and practice through history.
But wait! Surely there are some acts we feel rationally justified in condemning even when they occur in distant societies whose right to self-determination we would otherwise rigorously defend – genocide, for example. Yet if morality is subjective, what grounds would we have for this criticism, beyond the argument that ‘Your morals are not to my taste’?
At this point we appear to be stuck in the quagmire of taking a subjective approach to morality whilst simultaneously doubting that morality is subjective. Since morality underpins any well-ordered society, this is no trivial matter. I suggest therefore that the question itself is misleading, implying a rigid dichotomy, whereas the answer is more nuanced.
Undeniably, morality changes over time. But, crucially, moral values – unlike, say, preferences in food or music – are the subject of rational debate. It is never enough to justify a moral position by referring to one’s taste: moral positions must be defensible (even if one’s argument is simply to defer to higher authority). I doubt that a unified theory of morality, as dreamt of by some philosophers, is attainable; but I would argue (without having to adopt a full-blooded form of moral realism that puts moral propositions on a level with scientific facts) that a degree of objectivity in moral discourse exists; that there are criteria by which moral arguments can be judged; and that progress in moral theory is possible.
Nick Bevan, London
Asking questions in a simple binary manner will generate simple binary answers, which often are not of much use. Morality is not simple, not homogenous. It is nuanced. There is texture across the moral spectrum. Questions and answers that engage with that texture offer more. Objective matters are ones that require an externally verifiable source – some point of origin not humanly constructed. Gravity is an example. It is objectively experienced, can be measured, and exists whether or not humans are present to feel its effects. Morality has no such verifiable non-human source, and, as best we know, is exclusively a human practice. On that basis, it is therefore subjective.
But there’s more. Because morality is subjective, it is subject to the vagaries of human preferences over time. The moral spectrum changes. Some human actions that at one point in time were deemed immoral, shift to being morally accepted, and vice versa. This is subjectivity in action. But then again, some elements of moral life have a permanence and ubiquity about them. Murder, stealing, and lying, for instance, are seen as morally wrong across time, cultures, and faiths. This permanence and ubiquity give these foundational moral elements an objective feel. They suggest there are basic moral requirements for all societies, and seeing these basics as objective helps with understanding what are the objective moral fundamentals, and what are the subjective variables.
Peter Pearce, Lutwyche, Australia
“Sometimes a lie is the best thing” sings Tracy Chapman in her song Telling Stories. Lying is usually considered bad, yet we know situations in which lying for a good cause seems ‘the best thing’. Consider lying during wars to protect fugitives. Examples like these raise a fundamental question: does morality depend on context, or are there objective rules that always apply?
Some moral principles seem universal. Incest, murder, and rape are seen as bad in almost every culture. This seems to indicate that objective moral facts exist.
Murder harms individuals and disrupts societies; but the interpretation that murder is wrong may stem from both empathy and rationality. Morality thus seems to be based on both facts and values. So when we say that murder is morally unacceptable, we don’t just mean that it causes harm: it touches on something deeper; a sense of justice and a respect for life that we sense almost instinctively. You cannot deduce the idea that every human life is valuable purely from science: it’s a combination of what we know (the facts) and what we feel (our values). It is precisely this balance between objective facts and our deep-rooted moral intuitions that provides a foundation for morality.
Context plays a big role here. Honesty, for example, is a general norm because a society in which everyone lies at random cannot function. Yet there are situations in which lying is justified. In such cases, we instinctively feel that the intention and consequences outweigh the norm. This does not mean that moral rules are arbitrary, but that their application depends on the circumstances.
I therefore believe in a hybrid approach that recognises both objective moral principles and context. Morality is rooted in values and facts about well-being and suffering, but the application of its principles varies. This makes morality not a black and white issue, but a subtle interplay of universal values and human interpretation. Sometimes a lie is the best thing – but not always.
Caroline Deforche, Lichtervelde, Belgium
We are told that there is a thing called ‘morality’, but it cannot be seen or touched: the concept is not amenable to empirical analysis. But we can analyse it rationally, for example by using Wilfrid Sellars’ ‘Myth of the Given’ or Jacques Derrida’s ‘Deconstructionism’. Both these approaches coincided with the abandonment of certainty in science, when the rejection of ‘foundationalism’ (beliefs taken as without doubt) swept through epistemology, with its cry of ‘No foundations to knowledge!’.
Sellars argues that all awareness is a linguistic affair. Moreover, what causes belief in morality – such as a desire for social stability – should not be confused with the content of that belief – the rules of behaviour themselves. Put simply, Sellars would argue that it is incorrect to say that by experiencing a moral reaction we are thereby aware of (the nature of) morality itself. That’s the ‘Myth of the Given’. Conversely, to understand the impression I have of morality, I have to understand that my idea of good behaviour (the rules) is not the same as the cause of such behaviour (the feelings). And we become moral by learning the rules of good behaviour, which is a completely subjective experience.
Derrida says that there is no single thing that gives us a focus for understanding; all we can achieve is a collection of different perspectives, with a continual deferment of meaning. This means that morality is a ‘fuzzy abstract’, which may well be comprised of racist, sexist, and other prejudices, which a dominant group tries to impose on others. Indeed, Derrida would say that ‘morality’ in a text is a sign of a hidden agenda driven by a section of society at a given time and place, and that we can deconstruct any morality by showing its opposites; for example, that school for girls is a good thing.
So morality is a human construct, and therefore a subjective event. There is no good reason to say that morality is objective.
David Berger, Lawson, Australia
In the eighth chapter of his 1986 book The View From Nowhere, Thomas Nagel says that there can be no ethics without politics. He writes that a theory of how individuals should act requires a theory of the institutions under which they should live. This implies that a society “must in some sense be organized in accordance with a single set of principles, even though people are very different.” For Nagel, the task lies in “devising fair uniform social principles for beings whose nature is not uniform and whose values are legitimately diverse.” On this conception, morality requires objectivity, in order to establish principles that transcend individual differences. These uniform social principles bridge our subjective worldviews to establish a social order. Personal desires, impulses, and ideas alone cannot establish widely accepted principles because they neglect the collective perspective, so the subjective worldview cannot be the sole underpinning of a just society, as it isn’t representative of collective needs. Therefore, morality must contain objective elements to guide individuals toward the collective good, as only principles that transcend individual perspectives can serve the collective.
Bernard Williams argues in Ethics and The Limits of Philosophy (1985) that morality lies beyond any empirical determination. Morality cannot be experiential, as the empirical realm is subject to continual and unpredictable change. Plus, for Williams, moral value must be supreme; it has to transcend the mundane, everyday life of the individual. If morality were subjective, it would be volatile, uncertain, and ambiguous. “The hope for truthfulness”, writes Williams in the postscript, “is essentially that ethical thought should stand up to reflection, and that its institutions and practices should be capable of becoming transparent.” Truthfulness must be external to a person in order to benefit the collective, and social institutions must be divorced from subjective desires in order to be valuable to the community.
Morality must therefore transcend individual differences to establish principles that can guide collective life. The subjective realm alone cannot sustain a just society because it neglects collective needs. Objective moral principles are necessary to reconcile worldviews and to create transparent public institutions.
Luka Zurkic, Frankfurt
Something can of course be two or more things at once, or even neither of those things, and I believe that’s the case with morality. There is no certain answer to this question one way or another, which is why it has been examined at length by philosophers throughout history, going all the way back to the ancient Greeks.
The strongest argument for moral subjectivity is the fact that not all humans share a morality. Yet subjective morality taken to the extreme – for example, thinking that the wrongness of murder or pedophilia is just a matter of opinion – is surely problematic by any rational person’s standards, due to the harm that results..
Indeed, rationality is what many philosophers have claimed morality is based on, including Immanuel Kant with his Categorical Imperative – an objective, unconditional, universal principle that we all must follow, all the time. However, this is problematic too, since a universal law that applies to all humans irrespective of times or cultures must have a grounding common to all of them. This is where some higher source of morality – call it God – invariably enters the discussion. As there is no consensus thus far as to whether any such God exists or what his instructions might be, we are again left in a quandary as to who or what defines our supposedly universal moral codes. Yet the majority of us do at least try to uphold basic human values, such as freedom, connection, material, physical and emotional well-being, and the right to live free from harm. So my own conclusion is that while morality is indeed largely subjective, moral principles do have to preclude obviously harmful behaviours to other living beings. To co-exist in a somewhat harmonious society, we do need to agree on some basic and universal moral truths; but also to recognise that these are humanistic, not deigned from above.
Rose Dale, Floreat, Western Australia
Subjective or objective? I would ask which interpretation fits the evidence best. The advocate of objective morality must contend with facts such as that morals are a result of brain structure, and are built by genetics, environmental factors, and social experience. If a certain area of the prefrontal cortex is damaged in a person, they become coldly utilitarian. Moreover, every ethical theory proposed has failed, because as soon as the elaborate ethical structures built upon the foundation of our subjective moral intuitions obscure those intuitions, the structure collapses. So if there is an objective moral standard, what of the fragility of the flesh?
Evolutionary theory allows for morality as a mere social construct. The vast discrepancies between the moral outlooks of cultures, regions, times, and individuals, are readily explainable as subjective products of matter’s mechanisms. So, why posit an unnecessary hypothesis? Our ethical choices are ruled by context and our preferences, and context is as irrational as preference is subjective. In surveys, Philippa Foot’s Trolley Problem sees 70% choose to kill the one to save the five, yet modify it by pushing the Fat Man off the bridge and the percentages reverse. How odd it would be for an objective standard to U-turn depending on the presentation. (Do note the significant minority, too).
None of these are definitive smack-downs of objective morality that prove its incompatibility with the world we observe. But ought you to believe a standard so divorced from history, cultures, and individuals, so disregarding of our troubles, and so weak, compared to the naturalistic alternative? Embrace empathy.
James Dibble, London
The Cambridge Dictionary defines morality as “a personal or social set of standards for good or bad behavior and character, or the quality of being right and honest.” At first glance this seems unarguable – until the final part, ‘the quality of being right and honest’, is considered. Is it possible for everyone to agree on what’s right and honest? I’m sure that, around the world, in many brutal conflicts, people on both sides consider themselves right and honest and justified. And before we start thinking that we in the West have the correct idea of what’s right and honest, I’m sure that our ancestors who colonized the world and enslaved or exterminated indigenous populations while waving a Bible believed that they were being right and honest, too. Empire-building has had the same impact for millennia; but unlike our predecessors, most of us (with some notable exceptions) now no longer believe that might is right. This suggests some evolution in what is considered moral.
With so many differing views of what constitutes right and honest behaviour, how can morality possibly be objective? Surely, it is subjective, and driven by the prevailing culture? But it could also be argued that morality is constantly reevaluated in the light of new information. So I believe that morality is something that’s discovered, in the same manner that pure mathematics discovers universal truth: it’s not within us but out there. Mathematicians usually claim to discover theorems not invent them, and in the same sense we are discovering, via discussion and experience, what is moral as we develop as a species. Therefore morality is objective.
Philip Brown, Bury St Edmunds
Taking ‘objective’ to mean of the object, and ‘subjective’ to mean of the subject, it initially seems inconceivable to me that morality could be anything other than subjective. If morality were objective, it must somehow be a quality of an object independent of any subject’s experience or cognition. The supposed wrongness of murder or the rightness of charity would need to be features of these moral objects. Yet if we witness someone giving a £20 note to a homeless person, say, we can see the moment of exchange, we can see the material from which the note itself is made, and we can see the expression of the face of the person receiving the money: the one thing we cannot see is the ‘rightness’ of the action. Similarly, if we witness a person being murdered, we might be able to see all sorts of grisly details, but we do not see the ‘wrongness’. Neither ‘rightness’ nor ‘wrongness’ are objective properties in the normal sense of ‘objective’, then.
However, it is not correct to say that morality must necessarily be subjective because it’s not objective. It’s tempting to say instead that morality consists in an evaluation made by a person (perhaps unconsciously), about an object or action, similar to how we would interpret a work of art. The problem with looking at it this way, though, is that we are still assuming that there must be something to which the word ‘morality’ must refer. This is like having the word ‘Illuminati’ and assuming that such a group must exist, because why else would we have a word for it?
So morality is not objective, but it’s not subjective either. It is referentially problematic – meaning, it’s a word the reference of which cannot be determined. Various thinkers have claimed that what we call morality is an urge of approval or disapproval. In these cases, morality would be nothing more than an emotional, even physiological, burst. This bears no resemblance to the original belief that a careful evaluation can reveal moral objects. So morality is neither subjective nor objective. It is a word without a referent. There is no such thing as morality.
Alastair Gray, Bognor Regis
Morality is both objective and subjective. When we follow deontological principals of ethics – meaning, we obey laws, rules and regulations – our morality is objective, and we don’t pick and choose which laws to follow and which to ignore. In Iran and Afghanistan, the Morality Police is an example of such objective morality. The rules of behaviour are the same for everyone (chador for women, no make-up, no nail varnish; beards for men, etc), and whoever steps out of line is punished. By contrast, moral relativism results in subjective morality. If we ‘do as the Romans do’, we’re adjusting our morality according to the situation we find ourselves in. Since bull fighting is considered an art form in Spain, we will go and watch it there, regardless of the fact that it’s banned in other countries and considered cruel to the animals.
Having respect for the cultural practices of others sounds reasonable; but what happens when those cultural practices consist of things we morally despise, such as female genital mutilation, or when the law of the land is to exterminate the Jews? Here, morality can also become subjective, as we make our moral decisions based on our views of right and wrong, not on the law.
The utilitarian idea that the right thing to do is the one that will benefit the greatest number of people can provide another example of subjective morality. Utilitarianism says for instance that it’s better to divert the run-away trolley from five people tied to the track, to a track with one person tied to it, thus minimizing the death toll. But what if the one person tied to the track is your own child? Then things get subjective. The moral rules will be changed according to our individual circumstances, resulting in a subjective morality. Moreover, as humans, it’s difficult for us to subscribe to just one ethical theory. We use a mix to help us navigate the world; and so sometimes our morality is objective, and sometimes it’s subjective.
Mrs A Jackson, Quito, Ecuador
Next Question of the Month
The next question is: What Makes A Work Of Art Great? Please give and justify your answer in less than 400 words. The prize is a semi-random book from our book mountain. Email the Editor. Subject lines should be marked ‘Question of the Month’, and must be received by 16th June 2025. If you want a chance of getting a book, please include your physical address.
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