INTRODUCTION

The title correctly suggests that there is some tension between the view that all actuality is process and that ethical norms can be stable. However, although I am committed to the process view, in the present state of discussion about ethics I want to emphasize elements of objectivity and stability in ethics, rather than simply make the obvious point that moral rules change. Before attempting to discern stable aspects of normative ethics, however, the grounds of tension between process and stability need to be noted.

The process thinker must stress that no two situations are the same. Heraclitus' doctrine that we never set foot in the same river twice still holds. Of course generalizations can be made about situations, but any categorization of them is ultimately determined by judgments which themselves cannot be final. An approach to ethics which tries to predetermine right responses to situations by classifying these situations has provisional usefulness at an elementary level; but when it claims more than that, it reflects a misunderstanding of the human condition and in the long run will do more harm than good.

The process thinker must also reject any appeal to human nature as the ground of ethical principles. There are some characteristics of all members of the human species not shared by members of other species, but from this fact alone no normative conclusions can be drawn. To recognize this requires the rejection not only of traditional forms of natural law theory, but also of the currently popular notion that ethical action gains direction from the ideal of making human life more human. As a slogan this is useful, but as a serious program it depends on the judgment that human nature provides the ground for a judgment as to what ideal humanity is. The process thinker cannot find a human nature that can function in this way.

Since normative ethics for the process thinker cannot be derived from human nature, it must be oriented to human values. These in turn are related to human desire, for to speak of something as valuable which is in no way related to desires is nonsensical. This means that values are relative to a rapidly changing aspect of reality. If we understood values as simply the function of desires, they would be the least stable of grounds for ethical principles.

VALUABLE AND VALUED

However, we can and do distinguish among values, between what is really valuable in itself and what someone happens at any moment to value. I may happen to want people to fail in an undertaking because of my jealousy, while at the same time realizing that it would be far better for them to succeed. We could analyze this simply in terms of levels of wanting, but that would be confusing. Instead, I suggest that we can distinguish what is desirable from what we in fact desire by considering what we would desire on disinterested or dispassionate reflection. At the moment when I want the others to fail I know that, insofar as I could or would consider the matter disinterestedly, I would want them to succeed. Thus values, as what is valuable rather than simply valued, have a measure of transcendence over my fluctuating feelings of liking and disliking. The term value will be used hereafter in this more objective sense.

This way of understanding values by no means excludes them from change. What I find desirable on disinterested reflection today is different from what I found desirable ten years ago. What most of us find desirable differs from what most traditional Buddhists find desirable. What most men today find desirable differs from what primal peoples found desirable.

Nevertheless I want to emphasize here, not the relativity of values, but their element of objectivity to and for the individual. I do not find world peace less desirable because I know that there have been those who have preferred war. I do not find responsible existence less desirable because I know that there are those who prefer a state of affairs in which human beings are released from the burden of responsibility. Furthermore, my judgment of desirability in these cases is not identical with my fluctuating desire. Even when I am so angry that I desire to see some group destroyed, I remain aware of the preferability of peace. And even when I personally long to escape responsibility, I judge responsible existence better. Thus my values have much greater stability than do my desires.

This objectivity of values is the first basis for normative ethics. The recognition of a value is the recognition of an obligation. When I perceive something as intrinsically valuable, and I see that my action will tend to further or hinder it, my sense of obligation attaches to that action which will further it. This means that I can formulate an ethical principle that has greater stability than the particular values. I ought so to act as to further rather than hinder the realization of whatever I recognize as a value. That is true regardless of whether I value aristocracy or communism. It remains true if my values change. Thus, just as what I find valuable is more objective and stable than what I desire, so also my obligation to promote values is more objective and stable than what I find valuable.

The principle above was formulated with regard to a single value and must be refined in the light of the fact that, in a given situation, the choice is rarely between the simple increase or decrease of a single value. Usually a variety of values are involved. One can to some extent calculate the relative importance of values in abstraction. For example, one may judge that health is more important than comfort or that love is more important than the possession of information. But one cannot from such judgments conclude that in a given situation, in which both values in such a pair are relevant, the more important value should be chosen at the expense of the other. This would depend on the amount of the lower value to be sacrificed for any given amount of the higher value. And no objective calculus will solve such questions. The judgment of value must be directed to the total situations expected to result from the alternative actions. One can then reformulate the ethical principle to the effect that in any choice one ought to choose to produce the situation one values more highly.

At this high level of abstraction we have a normative principle which is relatively untouched by the changing character of the actual world. Of course, by the same token, it is quite inadequate as a guide to action. What one really values is what one prefers on disinterested reflection, but disinterested reflection is not easy. Many do not know what they would prefer on disinterested reflection. People need to be assisted in learning about values as in every other area of life.

Such assistance comes in many forms. Parents and teachers recommend what they find preferable to their children. If they are wise, they also teach their children how to arrive critically at their own values. Those who have had more experience or who have wider knowledge of the cumulative experience of the race can teach others a great deal about the relationship of acts to consequences, and make them aware of dimensions of the consequences to which they would otherwise be blind. Since so often we can know very little about probable consequences, we must learn quite specific rules of action which have been found generally to have preferable results. At a higher level of abstraction our attention can be called to maxims which, while they may at times be in tension with each other, are never lacking in ethical normativeness when they are relevant. For example, other things being equal, one should treat equals equally. That means, one should not treat equals unequally without overriding ethical reasons.

COMMITMENT

Thus far I have proposed as a normative principle that one ought to act so as to maximize value and that this norm has much more objectivity in relation to the flux of things than do the values which are to be maximized. Yet even at the high level of abstraction at which this is formulated, it too requires relativization. There is another principle which stands in tension with it and which cannot be subsumed under it. The principle discussed thus far relates the rightness of an act to its anticipated future. Utilitarian and pragmatic ethics operate on this horizon. But the rightness of an act is also affected by its relation to the past. Consequences being equal, one ought to act as one has committed oneself to act. One ought to fulfill expectations rightfully aroused in others whether by explicit promises or by accepting a role in society. One ought to respond to the kindness and generosity of others in kind.

I have said that, consequences being equal, one should fulfill one's commitments. Advocates of the utilitarian view sometimes argue that the reason we should fulfill commitments is that the best consequences are thereby secured. Fortunately this is usually the case, so that theoretical questions need not be settled before recommending action in conformity with this principle. However, I am convinced that there is an intrinsic rightness about fulfilling commitments as well as a utilitarian value. This means that in the theoretical case in which consequences may be judged slightly worse if I fulfill my commitments than if I do not, if the commitment is clear and responsible, I should fulfill it anyway.

Consider, for example, a case in which in my considered judgment the total consequences would be slightly better if I failed a student who objectively passed a course or passed one who objectively failed. Am I ethically bound to do so? Or does the fact that I have accepted a role in society which commits me to objectivity in grading have some ethically normative implications for my conduct? Surely it does! Granted, this must not be absolutized. If I were convinced that honest grading would have extremely serious results--let us say the suicide of a gifted but temporarily unbalanced youth--I trust that I would not be such a legalist as to ignore this in my grading. My point is not that I should ignore consequences. It is only that I should not ignore commitments. Each requirement relativizes the other.

One of the ways in which I can make clear the necessity to consider commitments even when they conflict with the dictates of utilitarianism is by pointing out the disastrous consequences from a utilitarian point of view which would follow if the utilitarian principle alone were applied. Let us suppose that we really persuaded each other that one should fulfill commitments only to that extent to which in each individual case we judged that the total consequences of doing so would be better than the total consequences of not doing so. How then would this affect grading? Would it not quickly undermine the whole grading system? Granted, in a considerable number of cases a wise person would judge that objectivity in grading would lead to the best results for all concerned, but would there not be also a considerable number of cases in which--on the assumption that there is no intrinsic value in such objectivity--teachers would find themselves obligated not to be objective? And would this not mean that no one would have any basis for confidence that grades received were a useful measure of the quality of the work done? One would never know whether an A represented the judgment of the professor as to the quality of the work done or as to the student's need for reassurance.

The point is that one must distinguish between the judgment as to the comparative value of the probable outcomes of alternative individual action and the judgment as to the comparative value of the situations which would result if people in general followed a given mode of making decisions. Here the importance and truth of the Kantian maxim is clear. To act ethically is to act in accord with principles I could will to be followed by others as well. Since I cannot will that others ignore their commitments in making decisions, I cannot ignore mine either. Of course I can will that under certain circumstances others allow their judgments of probable consequences to overrule the ethical weight of their commitments, and hence there are circumstances in which it is immoral to conform to such commitments. In this respect Kant is not a good guide.

ETHICS OF LOGIC AND FAITH

Here I have come to what I regard as an ethical absolute. I should always act in a way the generalization of which would lead to the most valuable outcome. I believe that in the process of generalization I must consider both relevant commitments and the probable consequences of the individual act. The generalization should be as specific as possible. Would it be best if people generally, in circumstances that in terms of commitments and values parallelled mine exactly, acted in a particular way? If I judge that it would, then the ethical question is settled. There remains the question of whether I will act ethically.

Needless to say, there is immense relativity in the application of this principle to particular situations. In different cultures the manner in which commitments are entered into and their weight varies. We have already noted the relativity of values. The judgments about probable consequences are never much more than guesses. The features of these consequences to which one attends vary. And one is never sure how disinterested is one's consideration, and hence whether one has distinguished what one finds desirable from what one happens at that moment to desire.

The objectivity of ethics resembles the objectivity of logic. In and of itself logic has a high degree of objectivity. Given certain premises, logic requires that certain conclusions be excluded. The premises dictate the conclusions if one intends to draw logical conclusions. But nothing about the actual world can be learned by logic alone. Logicians as logicians can discuss only the validity or the invalidity of the course of the argument. They can judge the truth neither of premises nor of conclusions. Yet the central importance of logic lies in its application to the actual world, an application which always depends on judgments of fact.

As the logician can describe patterns of relations among terms which are valid universally for anyone who intends to think logically; so the ethicist can describe abstract principles binding on all who intend to be ethical. But just as the logician cannot as logician judge the truth of the propositions which are employed in the arguments; so the ethicist has no unique capacity to judge among values and commitments or as to the probable consequences of given actions.

The analogy with logic illumines also the final element of relativity of which I want to speak. After we have studied logic we may decide that we prefer not to think logically. I am not speaking of a decision to be systematically illogical. Rather, I am speaking of a decision to be unconcerned about logic. This decision may be made out of laziness, or it may be a highly sophisticated judgment that reality does not conform to logic, that it is grasped intuitively or mystically or not at all. One may decide that disciplining one's thinking logically, whatever values that might have, would inhibit spontaneous creativity. This does not derogate from the objectivity of logic, but it indicates that the place of logic as a whole in human life is relative.

In a similar way, the ethicist can describe what is involved in being ethical, but a person may decide for or against assigning ethics a prominent role in life. One may decide that one prefers the life of spontaneous and unreflective expression of feeling. Such a decision might even be made on ethical grounds, that is, on the grounds that if everyone would live in this fashion more value would be achieved. If so, it is subject to debate in terms of ethical considerations. But it may also be made out of indifference, or one may just drift into it.

Ethics as a whole may also be relativized in another way, by religious faith. One may believe that one can be sensitive to the guidance of God, and that openness to God's direction supersedes all the requirements of ethics. Or more commonly one may believe that the spirit of love in one stroke fulfills all ethical requirements and makes ethics as such unnecessary or irrelevant. The choice of this way of life, too, may be adopted on ethical grounds, and when challenged it is almost always justified on ethical grounds. But here ethics is used to justify its own transcendence.

These comments allow a transition to brief consideration of the problem of "Christian ethics." If my analysis is correct, then ethics is the

same whether Marxist, Buddhist, Nazi, or Christian. Insofar as ethics

functions, what functions is self-identical. But Marxist, Buddhist, Nazi, and Christian differ in several important respects. First, they differ in their judgments as to the place of ethics in the life they recommend. Second, they differ in their judgments about the nature of things and the kinds of consequences to be expected from certain types of actions. Third, they differ in their judgments of value.

Hence, if ethics were understood not as a set of formal principles but as the recommendation of a total way of life, Marxist, Buddhist, Nazi, and Christian "ethics" would differ greatly. Understood in this sense "ethics" is relative through and through. If, then, we ask not for the distinctiveness of Christian ethics when ethics is strictly understood, but for the distinctive place of ethics in Christianity, the distinctive Christian understanding of the nature of things and the distinctive Christian judgments of value, we will have a rich field for discussion.

RELATIVE OBJECTIVITY

Thus far I have concentrated on distinguishing the element of stability and objectivity in ethics from the element of relativity. The emphasis has been that ethics as a formal discipline has objectivity but that its place in life and its application to practical issues are highly relative. I want now in conclusion to turn to the relative aspect and note that even within it relatively objective judgments of better and worse can be made.

This possibility depends upon an understanding of process not only as change but also as discriminable into growth and decay. The claim is to be considered that some ways in which ethics is viewed, some judgments as to the nature of reality, and some values are superior to others. There is, of course, an element of circularity in any such claim, for when some values are judged superior to others, some value is presupposed as the basis of the judgment. Yet other things can be said which transcend simple relativity, notably in respect to judgments of value.

Values may be defined as what is disinterestedly preferred, recognizing that different people prefer different things even when they consider them disinterestedly. There are a variety of grounds for the diversity of values: differences of temperament rooted in turn in differences of body-type, cultural and religious conditioning and the individual conditioning of personal experience.

Another factor affecting values is the richness and variety of experience which an individual has enjoyed. In distinction from the other factors noted, this provides a basis for judging among values. If I realize that the

difference between my values and those of another person is decisively

determined by the inferiority of the relevant experience I have had, then I

recognize also that the other's values are better than mine. Even if, on disinterested reflection, I continue to find preferable something different from what the other person values, I will recognize that the other's preference is in fact preferable.

The difference may not be one simply of quantity of relevant experience. I may recognize another person as peculiarly gifted, perceptive, and sensitive in discriminations of value in some particular areas. Aristotle's ethics is profoundly correct in pointing out that we have the capacity to judge the judges of value beyond the capacity to judge of the values judged. Thus we judge our private values inferior to values we know as values only indirectly, that is, on the authority of others. In the fine arts most of us accept some kind of consensus of artists and critics as more reliable than our private judgments.

If we could regard the total historical development of humanity as a single movement of growth, then we could largely overcome relativism in the judgment of values. Our task would be simply to identify the most advanced representatives of the species and assert their values as objectively the best. We would not thereby imply that these in their turn would not be superseded, but they would be normative until the supersession occurred.

Against those who would reduce us to complete cultural relativism or even to an individual relativism of taste, it is well to stress the extent to which the development of mankind from its animal ancestry should be recognized as a continuous growth process. One can judge that much of this process has been also progress. But against those who would take this view too seriously or too simply, one must stress that not all change, even over long stretches of time, should be thought of as progress, and also that diverse lines of development may parallel each other and produce conflicting values. By introducing the notions of growth and progress, and affirming as more truly valuable what is valued by more mature or advanced people, one reduces but does not overcome the relativism of value.

NOTE. In receiving this essay to review for publication I was struck by how differently I would approach it now. When I wrote it I was preoccupied with the question of ethical norms. The issue in my mind was that of ethical relativism. Process thought supports much relativism but does not exclude objective normativity. I continue to believe that, and I do not repudiate what I wrote. But focusing on that one formal question led me to neglect the much more important questions of the positive contributions that process thought can make to the great ethical issues of our time.

Today I would begin with economics and ecology rather than with technical problems in the discipline of philosophical ethics. Further, even if I limited myself to more technical philosophical problems, I would stress the distinctive implications of the process doctrine of the social self in contrast both to essentialism and to individualistic existentialism.

School of Theology,

Claremont, California