I mean by good anything that we know for certain to be a means for us to approach ever closer to the exemplar of human nature that we set for ourselves; and by bad that which we know hinders us from reaching that exemplar.1
Do we need morality to live a good life?
The religious worldviews that inhabit our world certainly seem to suggest so. Religions tend to provide a strict moral code, and failing to live up to it could mean nothing less than eternal damnation. Secular worldviews may have less stringent moral standards, but still compel us to act in certain ways.
Morality, it should be clear, is a deeply social phenomenon. Swearing is of no consequence if nobody is around to hear it and feel offended (unless God, or Big Brother, is listening, of course). More precisely, there would be no need for morals if we did not share our lives with others.
The obvious issue with morality is that we struggle to agree on what is good and bad. Even those who believe in universal moral truths can see that moral standards shift over time and place. While historical and cultural diversity do not have to imply relativism, it is clear that we are far removed from anything like a consensus on our moral principles.
Moral norms help to unite society. If everyone would downright disagree on which actions are worthy of praise or blame, chaos would ensue. A degree of disagreement around smaller issues is certainly manageable, but to some extent we must agree on the larger moral questions. Insofar as we cannot, we rely on law to ensure uniformity.
Law is not the only way we inscribe and enforce moral standards. We constantly keep each other in check by expressing our disapproval in numerous ways – be it by frowning, muttering, dismissing, deriding, or outright expelling someone from a social group. It is hard to overstate how finely attuned and susceptible we are to these micro methods of moral management.
The cohesive effects of morality are clear – but what about the individual? How do they fare under the pressures of moral conformity? While we clearly benefit from belonging to a social group, is it perhaps possible to imagine a source of value that does not depend on policing each other into obeying arbitrary moral values?
Spinoza’s reply to these questions is intriguing. For Spinoza, the highest thing we can hope for in life is acquiescentia, commonly translated as self-contentment.2 The translation is unfortunate – someone who is self-contented is often thought to be cocky and conceited. The fact that these terms are often seen as synonyms also tells us something about the values implicit in the English language – being competent is just about tolerable, but one better not be boastful. Humility is where it’s at.
Spinoza uses the term differently – self-contentment is simply the joy that arises from sensing one’s own power and ability. Again, we must be careful with how we understand the term power: it is not the ability to dominate and oppress others, but rather the ability to express ourselves in various ways.
Spinoza thinks we can grow our power, and ultimately achieve self-contentment, by experiencing as much joy as we can. Our biggest obstacle on this quest is – you guessed it – sadness. Spinoza is not a hedonist – the good life is not about simply seeking pleasure. Rather, joy arises from being as active as we can, by using our bodies and minds as wisely and diversely as possible. Pleasure is a part of that, but moderation is key: too much joy from partying inevitably leads to sadness the day after, when we struggle to even get out of bed.
Bringing this back to morality, Spinoza’s model is surprisingly simple: the good is that which brings joy and grows our power, and the bad is that which causes sadness and diminishes our power. This approach allows us to determine what is good based on whether something helps us thrive or not.
The authority of established values stems from something external – be it an old text, a leader or a social group. For Spinoza, however, value is something internal – what is valuable is simply what helps us realise our aspirations. By shifting the focus away from values imposed on life from the outside, we become free to ask what is good for us. Value is not a standard to live up to – value is something to be discovered for ourselves.
This pursuit for value is at heart an invitation to engage with life. To find value in life, we must immerse ourselves in it and actively seek out various ways of living to unearth what resonates with us.
The problem with traditional values is that they rely on the false assumption that it is possible to declare what is good and bad for us a priori – before even having lived at all. Relying on fixed inherited values blocks us from a path of discovery towards getting to know ourselves, how we actually relate to the world, and what we value in it, in the most intimate sense possible. Traditional values may happen to help us to flourish – or they may hold us back. If we care about our own well-being, we must put our inherited values to the test to see if they help us flourish or not, and adopt values most conducive to growing our power.
Let’s take humility as an example. For Spinoza, humility is a type of sadness “arising from a person’s thinking of his own lack of power.”3 When we are being humble, we feel like we need to make excuses for our abilities; we feel embarrassed by our own proficiency. Spinoza believes this is a limiting value because it restricts us from feeling the joy of excelling at something – it keeps us from self-contentment. While conceitedness can be problematic as it derives joy from the inferiority of others, there is nothing inherently wrong with being pleased with one’s abilities.
An obvious concern one might have with Spinoza’s approach to moral values is that it comes dangerously close to celebrating selfishness. In a sense, Spinoza does promote egoism. But holding our own well-being in high regard is not the same as disregarding the well-being of others. In fact, one could argue that caring about ourselves first is necessary in order to care for others. If all we do is sacrifice ourselves for the sake of others, soon we will have nothing left to give. In addition, the egoist who seeks what he wants at the cost of others will likely be met by social isolation and remorse. Neither of these stimulate joy, and so careless egoism is not what Spinoza has in mind. If the ways in which we strive to reach our aspirations cause sadness, we are in fact slashing rather than strengthening our power.
Here one could reply that some are unmoved by the suffering they inflict on others; this approach to morality would leave sadists and psychopaths free to do as they please. This is a fair point, and one that Spinoza would undoubtedly agree with. While Spinoza’s system sounds simple, it is actually incredibly hard to fully realise. It requires an enormous amount of self-reflection and exploration to discover what truly works for us. And even if we manage this, social pressures may still divert us. For these reasons, morality and law will remain necessary.
However, the larger point still stands. Failing to live up to the arbitrary values of society can trigger immense guilt and shame. And even if we do manage to live up to them, there is no guarantee these values will help us live thriving lives. If we wish to become the authors of our own lives, we have to get beyond the inherited values that keep us from flourishing and ask what is valuable for us. Questioning the moral values inherent to our worldview is a crucial step towards revising our worldview to better suit our lives - and by that a vital move towards greater freedom and joy.
Spinoza, Ethics, 4pref.
Ibid., 4p52s
Ibid., 4p53
There was an old song from another era: Anything Goes. We are now in the era of many things go. Contexts change under compelling influences. Compelling influences are not the ideal barometer for what is best in societies. J. S. Mill's philosophy does not work for the betterment of everyone. I find it interesting he was able to advocate utilitarianism with a straight face. But, well, it is said you have to stand for something or you fall for anything. Perhaps he took that too literally?