Lightshiner

While engaged in a debate in the comments section of this post I have referred to the book Relativism: Feet Firmly Planted in Midair given the goldmine of information it contains. 

Below you’ll find the section on the tactics to refute relativism (p. 143) which should come in handy not only for those who see relativism’s bankruptcy, but for those relativists who are unaware of the shaky ground they are on.

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Tactics to Refute Relativism

When we reflect carefully on the tenets of relativism and consider the incredibly high price one has to pay to be a consistent relativist, we ask, How could anyone believe this? Who could live this way? The answer is, No one can live this way.

People can talk this way, but they can’t live this way. People can wax eloquent in a discussion on moral relativism, but they will complain when someone cuts in front of them in line.  They’ll object to the unfair treatment they receive at work and denounce injustice in the legal system. They’ll criticize crooked politicians who betray the public trust; they will condemn intolerant fundamentalists who force their views on others. Yet these objections are all meaningless in the confused world of moral relativism.

Understanding this inconsistency is the tactical key to proving relativism wrong. The goal is to show that relativism is self-refuting and is such a serious affront to our moral intuition that it is impossible to live it out.

Tactic 1 

Show the contradictions of relativism. Ethical relativism is almost always self-refuting in practice. Virtually all relativists fall prey to what Alvin Plantinga of the University of Notre Dame calls a “philosophical tar baby.” If relativists try to use certain objections against moralists, they get stuck on their own objections. 

Once I was explaining to a waitress in Seattle why I was there attending a theological conference. My comments about religion were all met with an approving nod until I said, “When it comes to religion, people believe a lot of foolish things.”

A shadow of disapproval crossed her face. “That’s an oppressive view,” she said, “not letting people believe what they want to believe.”

Much can be said about this remark. For example, notice how to her judging a view foolish was a compromise of liberty, “forcing” my beliefs on others. I ignored that problem, however, and zeroed in on a more fundamental flaw.
“So you’re saying I’m wrong, then?”
She balked, not wanting to appear intolerant.
“No, I’m just trying to understand your view,” she said sweetly.
I couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Be honest; admit it,” I said, grinning. “You think I’m wrong.”
“No, I don’t.”
“If you don’t think I’m wrong, then why are you correcting me, saying I’m oppressive? And if you think that I am wrong, then why are you ‘oppressing’ me?”
At a loss for words, she changed the subject. 

This conversation exposes a common flaw of relativism. When relativists try to assert their views, they get stuck on Plantinga’s tar baby. Comments like “You shouldn’t judge others, you intolerant bigot!” show that relativists aren’t consistent. They want moral rules to apply to others but not to themselves. 

Objections usually take two forms: “You shouldn’t force your morality on me” and “Who are you to say?”

“You Shouldn’t Force Your Morality on Me”

When confronted with the line, “You shouldn’t force your morality on me,” simply ask, “Why not?”
This response is effective for two reasons. First, it’s only two words; it’s simple and easy to remember. Second, it makes the one challenging you justify his objection, putting the ball back in his court where it belongs. He’s going to have a hard time explaining why you shouldn’t impose your views without imposing his morality on you. This forces him to state a moral rule while simultaneously denying that moral rules exist. 
This same tactic is played out in the following short dialogues:
“You shouldn’t force your morality on me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t believe in forcing morality.”
“If you don’t believe in it, then by all means, don’t do it. Especially don’t force that moral view of yours on me.”

“You shouldn’t push your morality on me.”
“I’m not entirely sure what you mean by that statement. Do you mean I have no right to an opinion?”
“You have a right to your opinion, but you have no right to force it on anyone.”
“Is that your opinion?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you forcing it on me?”
“But you’re saying that only your view is right.”
“Am I wrong?”
“Yes.”
“Is that your view?
“Yes.”
“Then you’re saying only your view is right, which is the very thing you objected to me saying.”

“Don’t push your morality on me.”
“Why? Don’t you believe in morality?”
“Sure, but I believe in my morality, not yours.”
“Well then, how do you know what’s moral?”
“I think people should decide individually.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing. And I’m deciding you’re immoral. What’s the problem? Live and let live is your value, not mine.” 

“You shouldn’t push your morality on me.”
“Correct me if I’m misunderstanding you here, but it sounds to me like you’re telling me I’m wrong.”
“You are.”
“Well, you seem to be saying my personal moral view shouldn’t apply to other people, but that sounds suspiciously like you are applying your moral view to me. Why are you forcing your morality on me?”

I used this tactic on a relativist who objected when I moralized about his personal choice of homosexuality. “You can’t push your morality on me,” he charged.
“As a point of information,” I responded, “I’m the only one who can even talk about morality in this conversation and make sense, because I believe in an ethical system that allows judgments. You’re a relativist, so you can’t even say my judgments are wrong.”

“Who Are You to Say?” 

When someone says, “Who are you to say?” answer with, “Who are you to say ‘Who are you to say’?”
You may need to unpack this a little. She’s challenging your right to correct another, yet she’s correcting you. Your response to her amounts to “Who are you to correct my correction, if correcting in itself is wrong?” or “If I don’t have the right to challenge your view, then why do you have the right to challenge mine?” Her objection is self-refuting; you’re just pointing it out.

The “Who are you to say?” challenge fails on another count. Taken at face value, the question challenges one’s authority to judge another’s conduct. It says, in effect, “What authorizes you to make a rule for others? Are you in charge?” 

This challenge miscasts my position. I don’t expect others to obey me simply because I say so. I’m appealing to reason, not asserting my authority. It’s one thing to force beliefs; it’s quite another to state those beliefs and make an appeal for them. 

The “Who are you to say?” complaint is a cheap shot. At best it’s self-defeating. It’s an attempt to challenge the legitimacy of your moral judgments, but the statement itself implies a moral judgment. 

At worst it legitimizes anarchy. Dennis Prager has accurately pointed out, “Most of the problems with our culture can be summed up in one phrase: ‘Who are you to say?’”

Tactic 2

Press their hot button. One of the simplest and most effective ways to refute relativists is to pick their hot button (racism, animal rights, intolerance, gay- bashing, feminism, etc.) and then relativize it. This causes their moral intuition to rise to the surface, undermining their position. 

A seventeen -year-old high school student told me he’d been talking to a teacher who claimed that all morality is relative.
“How do I refute her?” he asked.
“Steal her stereo,” I said. “In situations like this,” I explained, “you’ll learn more by her reactions than by her arguments.” 

A belief is a propensity to act as if a thing were true. Our actions and, in some cases, our reactions-are a guide to our true beliefs. A relativist’s natural response when evil strikes close to home will usually betray her. She says she rejects morality, but in reality she still believes in it. Her actions tell the true story.

Betrayed by Words

Our language is another key that reveals what we really believe.  It’s virtually impossible for relativists to talk in a way that is consistent with their beliefs. The words we use bear testimony to our deepest intuitions about the world. 

If you encounter someone who thinks he’s a relativist, you can usually prove him wrong in five minutes when moral words like should creep into the conversation. When they do, expose the inconsistency.

This tactic works for a good reason: Morality is built in. Human beings have an innate capacity to reason in moral categories and to make accurate moral judgments.

This is where intuition plays an important role. Instead of arguing for morality, we ask a question or make a comment that gets the person in touch with her own moral intuition. We then ask her to make sense out of her response in light of her relativism.

What’s Wrong with Judging? 

The power of this approach is illustrated in my conversation with a physical therapist I’ll call Bill. 
Bill was a friendly, tolerant sort, willing to talk with me about Christianity until the question of homosexuality came up. Myapparent lack of tolerance made him uncomfortable, and he said so.
“That’s what bugs me about Christians,” he said. “You seem nice at first, but then you start getting judgmental.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I said. It was a leading question.
“It’s not right to judge other people.”
“If it’s wrong to judge people, Bill, then why are you judging me?” This question stopped him in his tracks. He’d been impaled on his own principle, and he knew it.
“You’re right,” he admitted. “I was judging you. Kind of hard to avoid it.” He paused a moment, scratched his head, and regrouped. “How about this? It’s okay to judge people, as long as you don’t force your morality on them,” he said, thinking he was on safer ground. “That’s when you cross the line.”
“Okay, Bill, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Is that your morality?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you pushing your morality on me?” Bill was getting stuck on Plantinga’s tar baby.He tried a couple more false starts but couldn’t extract himself.  Finally in frustration he said, “This isn’t fair!”
“Why not?” I asked.
“I can’t find a way to say it so it sounds right.” He thought I was playing a word trick on him.
“Bill, it doesn’t sound right because it isn’t right; it’s self- refuting,” I explained.

At this point in the conversation some people throw up their hands and say, “Now you’ve got me confused.”

In these cases I respond, “No, you were confused when you started. You just now realized it.”

Tactic 3 

Force the tolerance issue. The third tactic makes capital of a relativist’s commitment to tolerance.

Many people are confused about what tolerance is. According to Websters New World Dictionary, Second College Edition, tolerance means to allow or to permit, to recognize and respect others’ beliefs and practices without sharing them, to bear or put up with someone or something not necessarily liked.

Tolerance, then, involves permitting or allowing a conduct or point of view you think is wrong while respecting the person in the process. 

Notice that we can’t tolerate others unless we disagree with them.  We don’t “tolerate” people who share our views. Instead tolerance is reserved for those we think are wrong. 

This essential element of tolerance – disagreement – has been completely lost in the modern distortion of the concept. Nowadays, if you think someone is wrong, you’re called intolerant.

This presents us with a curious problem. Judging someone as wrong makes one intolerant, yet one must first think another is wrong in order to be tolerant. It’s a catch-22. According to this approach, true tolerance is impossible. 

Adding to the confusion is the fact that tolerance could apply to persons, behaviors, or ideas.

The classical definition of tolerance, what might be called “civic tolerance,” can be equated with the word respect. We respect people who hold beliefs different than our own; we treat them courteously and allow their views in the public discourse, even though we may strongly disagree with them and vigorously contend against their ideas in the public square.

Note that respect is accorded to the person here. Whether his or her behaviors should be tolerated, however, is a different issue. This is the second sense of tolerance. Our laws demonstrate that people may believe what they like-and they usually have the liberty to express those beliefs-but they may not behave as they like. Some behavior is immoral and a threat to the common good and so is not tolerated but restricted by law. 

Tolerating people should also be distinguished from tolerating ideas. Civic tolerance says that all views should get a courteous hearing, not that all views have equal worth, merit, or truth. The view that no person’s ideas are any better or truer than those of another is irrational and absurd. To argue that some views are false, immoral, or just plain silly does not violate any meaningful standard of tolerance.

These three categories are frequently conflated by muddled thinkers. If we reject another’s idea or behavior, we’re automatically accused of rejecting the person and ofbeing disrespectful. To say we’re intolerant of the person because we disagree with her idea is confused. On this view of tolerance, no idea or behavior can be opposed, regardless of how graciously, without inviting the charge of incivility.

Historically, our culture has usually emphasized tolerance of all persons but not tolerance of all behavior. This is a critical distinction because, in the current rhetoric of relativism, the concept of tolerance is most frequently advocated for behavior-premarital sex, abortion, homosexuality, pornography, and so on.

Ironically, though, there is little tolerance for the expression of contrary ideas on issues of morality and religion. Differing views are soundly censured. The tolerance issue has thus gone topsy-turvy: Tolerate most behavior, but don’t tolerate opposing beliefs about those behaviors. Contrary moral opinions are labeled as “imposing your view on others.”  

Instead of hearing, “I respect your view,” those who differ in certain ways are deemed bigoted, narrow-minded, and intolerant.

Most of what passes for tolerance today is not tolerance at all but actually intellectual cowardice. Those who hide behind that word are often afraid of intelligent engagement and don’t engage or even consider contrary opinions. It’s easier to hurl an insult than to confront the idea and either refute it or be changed by it.

The classical rule of tolerance is still a good guideline: Tolerate persons in all circumstances by according them respect and courtesy. Tolerate (allow) behavior that is moral and consistent with the common good, and tolerate (accept) ideas that are sound.   

Tactic 4 

Have a ready defense. Taking the offensive is a key strategy when dealing with relativism. You’ll have to answer some questions in the process, though, so be ready. Here are a few common rejoinders and some defensive maneuvers to use in reply.

Whose Values?

One of the most common responses to a critique of relativism is, “Whose values are right?” 

In our experience, this may sound like a valid refutation of morality, but it’s not. Rather it’s a sophisticated dismissal of the issue. The inference is that since true absolutes may be difficult to distinguish, absolutes don’t exist.

This mixes two distinct questions about absolutes: the ontological question-Do moral absolutes exist?-and the epistemological question-How do we know what they are? These categories should be kept separate, however. Constructing a full classification of moral rules to live by is difficult, but foundational principles are obvious and only one is needed to prove the case against moral relativism.

Louis Pojman poses the question, “So who’s to judge what’s right or wrong?” and answers, “We are. We are to do so on the basis of the best reasoning we can bring forth and with sympathy and understanding.”3 He adds: “We can reason and perform thought experiments in order to make a case for one system over another. We may not be able to know with certainty that our moral beliefs are closer to the truth than those of another culture or those of others within our own culture, but we may be justified in believing that they are. If we can be closer to the truth regarding factual or scientific matters, why can’t we be closer to the truth on moral matter?” 

The next objection is a variation of the first.

What Are They?

A favorite ploy of professors whose relativism is challenged by students in their class is to respond, “Oh, you believe in absolutes?  What are they?” When these professors raise the second issue, asking what the absolutes are, they think they have refuted the students on the first. In reality, all they’ve succeeded to do is change the topic.

When instructors make a case for relativism in class, it’s entirely appropriate to challenge them by citing the flaws listed in earlier chapters. When they promote ethical subjectivism based on cultural relativism, ask, “How does it follow that if people have different points of view, then nobody’s right?” As we saw earlier, this is the error of Society Does Relativism. 

But what do we say when a professor asks, “If you believe in moral absolutes, what are they?” We might offer that it’s immoral to dock the pay of professors just because they are Jewish, or African – American, or women, or approve of homosexuals, or whatever the current hot button happens to be.

Chances are, though, if we suggest a moral absolute, they’ll cite those who disagree. They may think they have made their case, but their reasoning is circular. They’re only repeating the error we’re challenging.  It doesn’t follow that if people disagree, then morals are relative.

Both of these responses, though legitimate, miss the real point:The professor has changed the subject. She challenges us to defend our view, but we haven’t expressed a view. She, however, is making a specific claim about morality and is sidestepping the challenge.  The burden of proof is on her.

We offer one possible response: “Professor, it doesn’t really matter what I believe. I’m not making the claim. You are. I may even believe as you do, for all you know. I’m just asking you to prove your point.

“I asked a fair question and you changed the subject, throwing it back on me. I’m not making any claim about morality. But you’re teaching that morality is relative because you think cultures have different values. I’m simply asking if that works. So please tell me how your conclusion follows.” 

Students should not be afraid to challenge their professors if they do so with grace and respect.

We may have good reason to believe that moral absolutes exist, even though we may not be able to list everyone. All that’s needed is one clear-case example. And when challenged, professors will usually provide it themselves if their hot-button issue is hit.

Problems with Intuition

Objections to moral intuition usually take two forms.

First, some relativists deny the existence of plain moral facts. 

They’re willing-at least in discussion-to disavow the objective validity of such things as genuine evil, justice, fairness, honesty, tolerance, moral improvement, and the like.

Frankly, we don’t believe them. As we showed earlier, sooner or later their conduct, reactions, or language will give them away. Spend a day with them, and dozens of examples that belie their apparent commitment to moral relativism will surface.

What do they teach their children? Remember, our actions betray our true beliefs. Every time relativists speak or act in a way that implies a moral judgment, expresses a moral rule, or provides moral education, they violate their own view.

But if relativists are consistent, there’s another problem: Those who deny all morality are twisted and a threat to society. On their view, the worst that could be said of Charles Manson is that he had a bad-hair day or of Jeffrey Dahmer that he had an eating disorder.

Simply denying morality is not good enough. One needs to offer some compelling reason why rape, torturing a newborn child for pleasure, or punishing an innocent person are morally benign. The burden of proof is on the one who denies plain moral truth.

Relativists can’t win. If they deny moral intuition, they are either lying, fooling themselves, or are sick and need help.

A second approach some take is to offer a competing set of moral “intuitions.” I have mine; they have theirs. Therefore morals are relative. This is the same worn-out fallacy of Society Does Relativism trying to lift its head again. As we have seen, differences do not prove that no one is correct.

Further, it’s always fair to ask, “In what way is your appeal to intuition the same kind of appeal as mine?” Just calling something an intuition doesn’t necessarily make it one. It’s easy to say, “You’re wrong.” But it’s much harder to show why.

For example, if you dispute our case for moral common sense by citing some parochial practice among hill-tribe peoples in southeast Asia that “makes sense” to them, we’re going to want to know why we should consider that a genuine intuition and not just a tribal custom.

We give clear-case examples (like it’s wrong to punish an innocent person because he’s innocent) for a reason. Each of the things we’ve mentioned has a universal quality and leads to a careful justification of our view. Any contrary claim requires the same if it’s to be taken seriously.

The Bankruptcy of Relativism

Relativism is bankrupt. It’s not a true moral system. It’s self- refuting. It’s undermined by serious counterexamples. It makes morality unintelligible. It’s not even tolerant.

When Tolerance Makes Sense

The principle of tolerance doesn’t follow logically from any form of relativism. Society Does Relativism (descriptive relativism) tells us only about culture; it says nothing about morality. No valid moral principle can be deduced from the observation that cultures seem to differ in their moral viewpoints. If from this we conclude that morality is relative, then we certainly can’t impose the objective moral rule of tolerance on other cultures.

Society Says Relativism (normative relativism) dictates that one ought to follow the moral rules of one’s own culture. Even here, though, tolerance is required only if one’s particular society values it. Many don’t. If a culture values intolerance, then its citizens are obliged to be intolerant. As a principle, tolerance has no independent moral force of its own. Further, one culture can’t impose its view of tolerance on another.

In I Say Relativism (individual ethical relativism) morality is purely an individual matter. Since by definition moral truth is relative to a person’s private convictions, it is inappropriate to prescribe universal statements like “All people ought to be tolerant of others’ viewpoints.” 
The principle of tolerance makes sense only in a world in which moral absolutes exist, and only if one of those absolutes is “All people should respect others’ rights to differ.”

The ethic of tolerance can be rational only if moral truth is objective and absolute, not subjective and relative. Tolerance is an absolutist principle and makes no sense from any view of ethical relativism.

The Consequences of Relativism

People are drowning in a sea of moral relativism. Relativism destroys the conscience. It produces people without scruples, because it provides no moral impulse to improve. This is why we don’t teach relativism to our children. In fact, we labor to teach them just the opposite.

Ultimately relativism is self-centered and egoistic. “Doing our own thing” is fine for us, but we don’t want others to be relativists.  We expect them to treat us decently.

Relativism is also dangerous. At Auschwitz, Hitler declared, “I freed Germany from the stupid and degrading fallacies of conscience and morality. . . . We will train young people before whom the world will tremble.” 

Regarding morality, we are faced with only two possibilities: either morality or nonmorality, either moral objectivism or moral relativism. There are no other choices.

Morality is either objective, and therefore absolute in some sense and universal, or not objective, and therefore personal and subjective, mere opinion. These are the only choices. If moral relativism is bankrupt, as we’ve demonstrated, then some form of moral absolutism must be true.

Morals exist. There’s no way around it. This conclusion has radical consequences for the way we see the world.