Artificial Virtue

It’s important, I think, to distinguish between morality and virtue.

Morality is a set of rules. Rules are abstractions imposed on particular situations. They’re stiff. Like walls, they block. Morality is born from a collective—a family or state. Morality says “We don’t want you to do this.” Our laws are instruments of morality—a set of abstract rules imposed on a particular complex set of circumstances. While judges and juries can exercise some flexibility, the law is a blunt instrument.  

Morality is also a double-edged sword. It seems to allow people to be in groups together with some sense of safety. But it will always be inherently problematic and complicated because individuals will always disagree with at least some aspects of the morality. It’s like a suit that doesn’t fit in some places, or isn’t our color or style.

Morality, too, tends to include judgment and comparison. One person or group feels morally superior to another.

Because morality is imposed from without, it always feels limiting. Even if we say we agree with its rules, there are parts of us that feel suppressed by them. We push down, say, our anger, or our desire to have sex outside of marriage. In other words, we build the walls of morality within ourselves. So even if we intellectually agree with the rules, our souls feel confined by them. There is always a sense of some greater freedom we could be experiencing.

Virtue comes from within. It’s not an abstract list of rules that get automatically imposed on life. Virtue is not simplistic. Virtue is flexible. It is always aware of the particular circumstance. It is always present in an actual moment. Virtue can only arise in an individual. It is not a collective phenomenon. The virtuous person is aware of that “still small voice” within, and knows from experience when that voice is speaking.

Virtue is not inherited from a family or state. It’s gained over time by experience, experiment, and reflection. Virtue is born of freedom. The virtuous person has allowed themselves all the thoughts and feelings that arise within them. They have had the courage to ignore those moral walls. This doesn’t necessarily mean they’ve committed all manner of immoral acts. It means they’ve honestly explored their inner landscape. They know they are neither superior nor inferior to anyone else. This is what Jesus meant when he said anyone who has lusted in his heart has committed adultery. He’s saying that we’re all human.

Virtue is born of the recognition of complete choice and complete responsibility for your choices. Virtue understands that an absolute moral judge is a figment of humankind’s imagination, not an inherent feature of the universe. Punishment doesn’t come from some absolute God. It is meted out by fallible social groups or one’s own inner tyrant.

Consequences are different from punishment. Consequences are an inherent feature of the universe. They are like the laws of physics. Gravity is not a punishment. It’s a feature of reality. And we learn to appreciate its reality more by experience than by lectures. When you fall, gravity isn’t punishing you. It’s teaching you. You learn to navigate the world, given its reality.

Virtue is like this. The virtuous person doesn’t feel constrained. They don’t feel they are compromising. They are simply acting in harmony with the laws of the universe. Just as a flower knows how to send its roots into the earth, open its leaves to the sun, and orchestrate the trillions of other processes that allow it to thrive where it is, we practice virtue so we can bloom and be happy.

All virtue has certain common elements. But everyone’s flower is a bit different. Sometimes virtue doesn’t look like conventional morality. But just as a flower gives beauty and perfume to the world, our blooming is ultimately the best thing we can do for others. Unlike morality, virtue is neither a blunt hammer nor a double-edged sword. It responds to nuanced situations and benefits all.

Darwinists, postmodernists, existentialists, and other cynics imagine that the virtue I just described is nothing other than a justification for selfishness. Masters like Jesus, however, have experienced otherwise. The great spiritual lesson of all ages and times is that ultimately the moral codes of laws and religions are just pale reflections of something infinitely more complex, tender, and beautiful. Something that needs no enforcement or grandstanding. It is the ultimate harmony of existence. Spiritual masters encourage each of us to sit with the amoral chaotic chorus that is within everyone, until we can hear that ultimate harmony for ourselves.

Then we can dance to it.

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