“Unless someone can distinguish in an account the form of the good from everything else, can survive all refutation, as if in a battle, striving to judge all things not in accordance with opinion but in accordance with being, and can come through all this with his account still intact, you’ll say he doesn’t know the good itself or any other good.” – Plato’s Republic VII
“The bad is what destroys and corrupts, and the good is what preserves and benefits.” – Republic X
In Plato’s early Socratic dialogues (such as Meno and Gorgias), written over two thousand years ago, Plato relates how the masterful Socrates tied his Athenian interlocutors’ arguments in knots as they tried to define goodness. The learned and the practical alike felt sure that they knew goodness when they saw it, but Socrates enjoyed himself at their expense as he showed that their attempted definitions were circular, resting at best on a particular example of goodness rather than a fundamental ground.
Like our Athenian precursors, most of us feel that we know what goodness is—it is good to take care of my health, for instance, to be patient with my two-year-old son, and to give directions to a stranger on the streets of New York City. Although we often differ in our particular judgments of goodness, we tend to agree with Plato that goodness is that which ‘preserves and benefits.’ But some of the most prominent thinkers of our time have concluded that, despite our intuitive sense to the contrary, goodness has no absolute ground.
Moral relativists generally admit that natural selection reinforces certain ‘good’ behavior, which is why we think of it as good, but point out that moral perspectives vary from one social group to another. Through custom or social practice different groups ascribe to certain attitudes and behaviors an accepted rightness or wrongness. A Spaniard may see nothing wrong with bullfighting, while the average American may consider it cruel. In Western society today, young unmarried couples commonly live together, whereas our grandparents’ generation frowned upon it. The existence of cultural morality, the relativists say, proves that morality is irretrievably relative and subjective.
But if we carefully analyze what we know about the universe we live in and how the forms of inanimate and animate existence came into being and evolved over time, if we look to an account that is ‘in accordance with being,’ in other words, I believe we can overcome the objections of the relativists and demonstrate an absolute and objective basis for the form of the good. We must keep our feet firmly on the stepping stones of pure knowledge, constructing a ground that rests entirely on objective and definite principles of existence.
* * * * *
A problem immediately arises: When it comes to theories of existence, it sometimes seems that we can be certain of just one thing—that our idea of the underlying nature of being will change. Inevitably new theories and models replace older theories and models, Einstein’s account of gravitational attraction displaces Newton’s, the indivisibility of subatomic particles concedes to their being composed of quarks, and so on, like an infinite Russian doll. But we should not conclude that we therefore have no definite knowledge of existence.
As I write this, I am sitting in an unfamiliar house. For the past hour or so I’ve been hearing an intermittent noise—a loud hum. It sounds as though it may be coming from the heating system or the laundry room. Are these the only two options? I’m not sure. I may decide that the hum emanates from the heating system only to find out later that it comes from the dishwasher. But through all of my analysis and inquiry into the source of the hum, I would be sure that I heard a distant humming noise. (If I wanted to be even more skeptical I could say that I believed I heard a distant humming noise.) Likewise, whether existence operates according to this model or that does not change our definite experience of the phenomena of existence. But we must be careful not to confuse our perceptions with our theories constructed from those perceptions.
The first step on our journey to isolate and identify the form of the good will be to establish a definite understanding of why the universe exists as it does and why we exist as we do. Are there fundamental principles that determine the forms of existence, and if so, what are they? The most logical place to begin this inquiry is with the building blocks of matter.
We know that our bodies and the planet we live on and all of the stars and planets in the universe consist of a discrete set of material phenomena that we label atoms, and that atoms in turn consist of an even smaller set of material phenomena that we label protons, electrons, and neutrons. It is not relevant to our inquiry that protons, electrons, and neutrons may be better described as energy smeared out in probability states than as small hard spheres, nor that they themselves consist of quarks. What matters is that we can agree that these three material phenomena (protons, electrons, and neutrons) in different combinations and permutations account for all of the visible matter in the universe. And what interests us most is why the atomic state has so thoroughly cornered the market on physical existence. Other material states can and do exist; protons, neutrons, and electrons come from large families of similar particles. So why don’t we find atom-like conglomerations of these other particles crowding up the world around us?
The answer is not mysterious or complicated. Quite simply, the building blocks of existence have converged on their most persistent forms: Protons and electrons have effectively infinite life spans, whereas other particles spontaneously and rapidly decompose. As the universe formed and matter emerged from the super-hot energy soup, the various chains of particle formation inevitably and always resulted in a residue of protons and electrons. Protons and electrons readily combine (with neutrons, which are stable in the atomic nucleus but not otherwise) to form atoms. So atoms abound because protons and electrons abound, and because atoms themselves are persistent.
This empirical observation can be expressed as a universal principle of existence: The tendency for a state or thing to exist in abundance over time is proportional to its persistence. (In determining persistence we include, of course, the likelihood that some external influence will destroy or alter the state or thing.)
If we have two states of existence A and B, with half lives La and Lb, then if the conditions of existence for A and B are otherwise equal, the relative abundance of A and B will vary in proportion to La and Lb. If La > Lb, then over time the abundance of state A will be greater than the abundance of state B.
This principle—which we can call the principle of persistence—is logically true and applies throughout all space and time. Forms of existence that tend to persist will tend to exist in greater abundance than forms that tend not to persist.
To convince ourselves that this isn’t just some narrative sleight of hand or meaningless truism, we need only consider how we intuitively understand this principle and see it at work all around us on a daily basis. If I’m sorting out my closet, for example, and take note of my old clothes, those that are well-made of sturdy fiber tend to outnumber those that are thin and poorly stitched. The persistent clothes are more abundant. And in summer when I’m sitting with a cold drink, the larger ice cubes remain to clink around my glass when the smaller ones have long since melted away.
The principle of persistence has nothing to do with the qualities of quarks or the operation of superstrings. It encompasses quantum and classical theory. And it applies to all forms of existence, whether microscopic or macroscopic. For instance, galactic spirals of stars and solar systems make up our universe because swirling collections of spheres orbiting spheres are the most persistent forms in a massive, expanding system of cooling cosmic dust. And although the ratios of atomic elements in the earth’s crust vary according to complex chemical and mechanical processes, the more persistent elements are always relatively more abundant. The principle of persistence is a simple statement of causal logic. Every aspect of existence, whether subatomic, cosmological, or chemical, must work in accordance with the principle of existence.
But what about organic existence? What about life?
* * * * *
If I look out of the window from where I’m sitting, I can see tall pine and maple crowding in upon one another. Grass and bracken grow at their feet. Yesterday, as I drove along the path from the house with my family, chip-monks scurried across in front of the car. At the farm, we saw sheep and a llama, a huge blind pig, and dozens of cows and horses. All of these living forms are so different from one another in so many ways. But all forms of life must adhere to the same principles of existence as all other forms of life, and to the principles of existence that govern inanimate existence. The appearance of life on earth—whether happy accident or inevitable event—did not and could not alter the fundamental laws of existence. The living form doesn’t transcend probability. Life exists because it persists. And, with life, the principle of persistence applies not only to the bits of matter that make up a particular organism, but also to the design or archetype of the living form itself.
To demonstrate this, we can consider the difference between the principle of persistence as it applies to the proton and the fruit fly. Protons persists because each proton lasts, essentially, forever. But a fruit fly lives a few days at most. Fruit flies persist because the fruit fly archetype persists. The fruit fly archetype lives on from one generation of fruit flies to the next.
Life is a persistent form for three key reasons: Living organisms nurture themselves and protect themselves from harm. They reproduce. And they mutate or evolve. The persistence of the individual organism is finite by design. If we were to live forever, we would not evolve, and we could not adapt. Similarly, since a species must evolve and adapt in order to persist, the state of a species at a certain point in its evolution is no more noteworthy or representative than that which precedes it, nor that which will succeed it. Although members of a species naturally feel the urge to protect their like and to help their likeness persist, such an urge taken to an extreme is detrimental since it inhibits the species’ ability to adapt.
If I look to my dogs I see that they instinctively and unconsciously embody life’s persistent tendency. They don’t think about whether to eat, they just eat. They don’t evaluate a threat, they just bark and snarl. Every non-conscious creature strives to persist. Anything and everything it does is instinctively commensurate with its nature, and natural selection reinforces the likelihood that its nature is to persist and to assist the persistence of its species.
As human beings, we too respond to our subconscious inclination to persist. But we can also consciously mold and manipulate our environment, making active choices to promote our persistence and the persistence of other living things. I’m sitting in a house that has been constructed to protect me from the elements. The light bulbs and heating system draw current from a power plant many miles away. I am writing this essay to communicate concepts in the hope that these concepts will inform and enlighten those who read it. As we know all too well, however, consciousness brings with it the power to deliberately work against our persistence or the persistence of others. Human beings can and do inflict great harm upon one another and upon other living things.
* * * * *
We can now return to Plato’s challenge to give an account of the form of the good that is in accordance with being:
Existence, as opposed to non-existence, is an essential attribute of being. For a thing to continue to exist it must persist. For the form of life to continue to exist it must persist. Therefore, we can assert that that which contributes to life’s persistence is positive (or good) and that which hinders or harms life’s persistence is negative (or bad).
We can see immediately that this objective definition of goodness concurs with our subjective or intuitive sense of the concept. We feel it is good to exercise regularly and eat well because we understand that these things will contribute to our persistence. We feel that it is right to protect and nurture our family because this instinct reflects an innate desire to ensure the persistence of our form, our species. And we tend to feel protective of and caring toward other living things because we have understood intuitively that all living things represent the form of life. A sense of goodness is baked into our DNA. Although we can consciously ascribe reasons to why things are right or wrong, we also to some degree understand rightness and wrongness intuitively, just as we understand that if we duck we will escape the ill-effect of a rock aimed at our head.
We are moral creatures because we appreciate the importance of persistence—our own persistence, the persistence of our family and friends, and the persistence of life itself—but possess the conscious power to act against it. We act immorally when we choose to do something despite having judged that it will work against life’s persistence. When one person knowingly harms or oppresses another, for instance, aware of the consequences to their victim’s persistence, and aware of the consequences to society’s fabric, he has acted wrongly. (Non-conscious creatures cannot act immorally. They do not choose from an awareness of what is good or bad, they just act.) We act wrongly for one of three reasons: Because the urge of the ego outweighs the impulse to do the right thing. Because we have consciously decided not to act for the good (some would call this ‘evil’). Or because we have let go of the desire to participate in this form of existence (which explains the transcendental).
Groups or societies can also act wrongly: When a group chooses to elevate itself at the expense of another group, or deludes itself into believing that it is better than another group, it has chosen to feed its group ego and to ignore the persistence of life as a whole. Oppression and genocide are extreme examples of this. In myriad ways, the egotism of groups and nations is responsible for the countless atrocities and injustices across the world and throughout history.
When we define the form of the good as that which contributes to the persistence of life, we immediately disperse the fog that surrounds all of the related concepts such as cultural morality, religion, and human law. Cultural morality comes about when a community or society determines that a particular act or action is good or right. Such determinations tend to have their roots in an attempt to further life’s persistence, but often the ramifications of a certain act or action have not yet been fully understood and, over time or in another society, the practice or custom is revised or abolished. (Societies that once made animal and human sacrifices did so because they believed that this would appease the gods and bring them safety, health, and prosperity. As those societies became aware that gods did not control their fate, the sacrifices began to be seen as wrong.)
We can never determine with absolute certainty whether a particular action or inaction will or will not contribute to the persistence of life. (I may give directions to a stranger on the streets of New York City, only to find out later that he was on his way to commit a crime.) But this does not mean that we should not attempt to make choices that contribute to life’s persistence. (Just as an incomplete knowledge of mathematics shouldn’t stop us from counting our change at the supermarket.) An objective definition of goodness can help us make choices in our everyday lives. And it can illuminate the problems and challenges faced by society. If we accept that all living things are one, and that the persistence of life as a form is our highest purpose, we find ourselves forced to look behind and beneath our differences to try to determine what course of action may best serve the persistence of life overall.
For a complete exploration of the objective basis for morality (and much more) see LIFE! Why We Exist… And What We Must Do To Survive