Words&Dirt

Of the many paradoxes that bedevil human nature, one of the most intriguing is our tendency to seek out freedom while simultaneously longing for submission. American philosopher Josiah Royce understood this well:

We profoundly want both to rule and to be ruled. We must be each of us at the centre of his own active world, and yet each of us longs to be in harmony with the very outermost heavens that encompass, with the lofty orderliness of their movements, all our restless doings. The stars fascinate us, and yet we also want to keep our own feet upon the our solid human earth. Our fellows, meanwhile, overwhelm us with the might of their customs, and we in turn are inflamed with the naturally unquenchable longing that they should somehow listen to the cries of our every individual desire. (The Philosophy of Loyalty, 59)

Royce’s theory of loyalty sought to resolve this tension, and Kwame Anthony Appiah’s The Honor Code: How Moral Revolutions Happen follows in the same tradition. Appiah identifies a critical difference between morality and honor, positing morality as an internal force influencing our decisions about how to act, and honor as the social force that dictates the consequences of those actions.

“Honor and morality are separate systems,” Appiah writes. “They can be aligned…[but] can easily pull in opposite directions” (108). When the demands of morality and honor coincide, however, honor can drive moral progress, acting as “an engine, fueled by the dialogue between our self-conceptions and the regard of others, that can drive us to take seriously our responsibilities in a world we share” (179).

This dichotomy (moral sphere as internal, honor sphere as external) is far from perfect, but if you can bring yourself to accept it, this will be an informative and engaging read. The Honor Code isn’t particularly well-written, but Appiah’s undue wordiness doesn’t prevent him from adequately supporting his thesis.

To demonstrate the role of honor in moral progress, Appiah examines four historical examples of honor practices that were challenged by what he calls “moral revolutions”: Pistol dueling in Britain, footbinding in China, the Transatlantic slave trade, and honor killings in Pakistan. Each topic is relevant, but it’s unclear why Appiah chose to include one contemporary and unresolved example––honor killings––among three others that are firmly in the global past.

The reason honor is so important, Appiah claims, is that moral argumentation isn’t an adequate influence in changing behavior:

Arguments against each of these practices were well known and clearly made a good deal before they came to an end. Not only were the arguments already there, they were made in terms that we––in other cultures or other times––can recognize and understand. Whatever happened when these immoral practices ceased, it wasn’t, so it seemed to me, that people were bowled over by new moral arguments…[However], in each of these transitions, something that was naturally called “honor” played a central role. (xii)

This point is bolstered by the findings of modern psychology. People rarely change their opinions or habits when presented with new arguments. The unpleasant truth is that culture and biology usually trump law and logic. Human behavior, therefore, is more sensitive to shifting conceptions of honor than to moral arguments. If we want moral progress, we can’t ignore honor.

Although I accept this as an important insight, I’d like to emphasize that while moral arguments may not be sufficient for moral progress, I think they are definitely a necessary ingredient. Myriad factors influence how people change their ideas and actions over time, and moral arguments are not completely ineffectual. This is especially true when the argument takes place in a socially significant context (i.e. I’m more likely to entertain a moral argument from a parent or friend than from a stranger on the bus). To his credit, Appiah points out the limits of argumentation without derision; after all, coming down too harshly on argumentation would be a form of philosophical self-sabotage.

In order to enact positive developments in honor codes, and therefore in the behaviors of those who ascribe to such codes, we must look to the social dynamics of pride and shame. One of Appiah’s most interesting findings is that modern forms of collective identity––most notably nationalism––can exert a great influence on moral revolutions.

Part of what spurs us to do what our country needs us to do is a pride in country that depends on our thinking “we” have done great things. It depends, that is, on a sense that we are entitled to national esteem: that we are, in fact, an honorable nation. (97)

Nationalism is perhaps the most obvious contemporary form of group identity, but the same dynamic has applied, does apply and will apply to the honor codes of any conceivable human group. This stems from our evolutionary history of tribalism. Every group has a set of norms and consequences (formal or otherwise) for those who violate them. The social nature of honor codes demands a higher level of maintenance than individual morality (i.e. I may feel dubious about satisfying my personal sense of justice if doing so brings shame to my community). In Appiah’s words:

Caring to do right is not the same thing as caring to be worthy of respect; it is the concern for respect that connects living well with our place in a social world. Honor takes integrity public. (179)

Since honor “takes integrity public,” it is a potential tool for improving the status of public integrity. The question of exactly how to go about this does not admit an easy answer; solutions will vary according to particular conditions. But there are some general guidelines that will help us “change the grounds of honor, to alter the codes by which it is allocated” (169).

For starters, any desirable honor code should be sensitive to matters of human dignity:

What follows from a commitment to human dignity, I think, is that we should take care to avoid creating honor worlds and honor codes that grant so much standing to the successful that they imply a disrespect for the rest of us. (131)

The modern crises of inequality (human vs. human, human vs. environment) are fueled by honor codes that reward narrow definitions of success––usually financial wealth, economic clout or political power––above all other goods. When individuals, corporations or governments cite “competition” or “growth” as a justification for ignoring consequences “external” to their particular honor codes, “disrespect for the rest of us” is unavoidable. Indeed, disrespect is just the tip of the iceberg, as the residents of Flint, Michigan well know. Furthermore, these bad actors often get away with thinking they haven’t done anything wrong. Why bother with the headache of moral calculus if you’re living up to your community’s standard of honor?

What follows is that altering or expanding definitions of “success” will help us begin to ameliorate and reverse these negative trends. The concept of dignity, as well as other non-quantifiable ways of speaking about human value, will play a key role in this process.

If we want honor to contribute to moral progress instead of impeding it, we need to make honorable behavior align with morality wherever possible. This means holding ourselves and members of our communities accountable for immoral behavior, and integrating such judgments with norms that dictate which behaviors are praiseworthy, and which are shameful. It also means taking personally, to a reasonable degree, the negative behavior of others: “It takes a sense of honor to feel implicated by the acts of others” (204).

None of this helps us with the thorny question of how to define moral behavior, or how to get along with groups that define morality differently than we do. But The Honor Code does say something important about the problem of human motivation, emphasizing its inescapably social character. Radical individualism stymies the reformation of bad honor codes; no one can harmonize internal impulses with external demands in isolation.

By propagating and creating better honor codes, we walk the path toward moral revolution. It may not come easily, but it does happen, as shown by the United States’ recent and swift pivot on the issue of marriage equality. In this case, as in others, “It wasn’t the moral arguments that were new; it was the willingness to live by them” (161).

Rating: 7/10