The Challenge of Cultural Relativism James Rachels

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The Challenge of Cultural Relativism

James Rachels

Morality differs in every society, and is a convenient term for socially approved habits.

2.1. How Different Cultures Have Different Moral Codes
Darius, a king of ancient Persia, was intrigued by the variety of cultures he encountered in his travels. He had found, for ex­ample, that the Callatians (a tribe of Indians) customarily ate the bodies of their dead fathers. The Greeks, of course, did not do that—the Greeks practiced cremation and regarded the fu­neral pyre as the natural and fitting way to dispose of the dead. Darius thought that a sophisticated understanding of the world must include an appreciation of such differences between cul­tures. One day, to teach this lesson, he summoned some Greeks who happened to be present at his court and asked them what they would take to eat the bodies of their dead fathers. They were shocked, as Darius knew they would be, and replied that no amount of money could persuade them to do such a thing. Then Darius called in some Callatians, and while the Greeks lis­tened asked them what they would take to burn their dead fa­thers’ bodies. The Callatians were horrified and told Darius not even to mention such a dreadful thing.

This story, recounted by Herodotus in his History, illus­trates a recurring theme in the literature of social science: Dif­ferent cultures have different moral codes. What is thought right within one group may be utterly abhorrent to the mem­bers of another group, and vice versa. Should we eat the bodies of the dead or burn them? If you were a Greek, one answer would seem obviously correct; but if you were a Callatian, the opposite would seem equally certain.

It is easy to give additional examples of the same kind. Consider the Eskimos (of which the largest group is the Inuit). They are a remote and inaccessible people. Numbering only about 25,000, they live in small, isolated settlements scattered mostly along the northern fringes of North America and Green­land. Until the beginning of the 20th century, the outside world knew little about them. Then explorers began to bring back strange tales.

Eskimo customs turned out to be very different from our own. The men often had more than one wife, and they would share their wives with guests, lending them for the night as a sign of hospitality. Moreover, within a community a dominant male might demand and get regular sexual access to other men’s wives. The women however, were free to break these arrange­ments simply by leaving their husbands and taking up with new partners—free, that is, so long as their former husbands chose not to make trouble. All in all, the Eskimo practice was a volatile scheme that bore little resemblance to what we call marriage.

But it was not only their marriage and sexual practices that were different. The Eskimos also seemed to have less regard for human life. Infanticide, for example, was common. Knud Rasmussen, one of the most famous early explorers, reported that he met one woman who had borne 20 children but had killed 10 of them at birth. Female babies, he found, were especially li­able to be destroyed, and this was permitted simply at the par­ents’ discretion, with no social stigma attached to it. Old people also, when they became too feeble to contribute to the family, were left out in the snow to die. So there seemed to be, in this society, remarkably little respect for life.

To the general public, these were disturbing revelations. Our own way of living seems so natural and right that for many of us it is hard to conceive of others living so differently. And when we do hear of such things, we tend immediately to cate­gorize the other peoples as “backward” or “primitive.” But to an­thropologists, there was nothing particularly surprising about the Eskimos. Since the time of Herodotus, enlightened ob­servers have been accustomed to the idea that conceptions of right and wrong differ from culture to culture. If we assume that our ethical ideas will be shared by all peoples at all times, we are merely naive.

2.2. Cultural Relativism
To many thinkers, this observation — “Different cultures have different moral codes” — has seemed to be the key to under­standing morality. The idea of universal truth in ethics, they say, is a myth. The customs of different societies are all that exist. These customs cannot be said to be “correct” or “incorrect,” for that implies we have an independent standard of right and wrong by which they may be judged. But there is no such inde­pendent standard; every standard is culture—bound. The great pioneering sociologist William Graham Sumner, writing in 1906, put it like this:

The “right” way is the way which the ancestors used and which has been handed down. The tradition is its own war­rant. It is not held subject to verification by experience. The notion of right is in the folkways. It is not outside of them, of independent origin, and brought to test them. In the folkways, whatever is, is right. This is because they are traditional, and therefore contain in themselves the au­thority of the ancestral ghosts. When we come to the folk­ways we are at the end of our analysis.

This line of thought has probably persuaded more people to be skeptical about ethics than any other single thing. Cultural Rel­ativism, as it has been called, challenges our ordinary belief in the objectivity and universality of moral truth. It says, in effect, that there is no such thing as universal truth in ethics; there are only the various cultural codes, and nothing more. Moreover, our own code has no special status; it is merely one among many. As we shall see, this basic idea is really a compound of sev­eral different thoughts. It is important to separate the various el­ements of the theory because, on analysis, some parts turn out to be correct, while others seem to be mistaken. As a beginning, we may distinguish the following claims, all of which have been made by cultural relativists:

  1. Different societies have different moral codes.

  2. The moral code of a society determines what is right within that society; that is, if the moral code of a society says that a certain action is right, then that action is right, at least within that society.

  3. There is no objective standard that can be used to judge one society’s code better than another’s.

  4. The moral code of our own society has no special status; it is merely one among many.

  5. There is no “universal truth” in ethics; that is, there are no moral truths that hold for all peoples at all times.

  6. It is mere arrogance for us to try to judge the conduct of other peoples. We should adopt an attitude of toler­ance toward the practices of other cultures.

Although it may seem that these six propositions go naturally to­gether, they are independent of one another, in the sense that some of them might be false even if others are true. In what fol­lows, we will try to identify what is correct in Cultural Relativism, but we will also be concerned to expose what is mistaken about it.
2.3. The Cultural Differences Argument
Cultural Relativism is a theory about the nature of morality. At first blush it seems quite plausible. However, like all such theo­ries, it may be evaluated by subjecting it to rational analysis; and when we analyze Cultural Relativism, we find that it is not so plausible as it first appears to be.

The first thing we need to notice is that at the heart of Cul­tural Relativism there is a certain form of argument. The strategy used by cultural relativists is to argue from facts about the dif­ferences between cultural outlooks to a conclusion about the status of morality. Thus we are invited to accept this reasoning:

(1) The Greeks believed it was wrong to eat the dead, whereas the Callatians believed it was right to eat the dead.

(2) Therefore, eating the dead is neither objectively right nor objectively wrong. It is merely a matter of opinion that varies from culture to culture.

Or, alternatively:

(1) The Eskimos see nothing wrong with infanticide, whereas Americans believe infanticide is immoral.

(2) Therefore, infanticide is neither objectively right nor objectively wrong. It is merely a matter of opinion, which varies from culture to culture.

Clearly, these arguments are variations of one fundamental idea. They are both special cases of a more general argument, which says:

(1) Different cultures have different moral codes.

(2) Therefore, there is no objective “truth” in morality. Right and wrong are only matters of opinion, and opinions vary from culture to culture.

We may call this the Cultural Differences Argument. To many people, it is persuasive. But from a logical point of view, is it sound?

It is not sound. The trouble is that the conclusion does not follow from the premise—that is, even if the premise is true, the conclusion still might be false. The premise concerns what peo­ple believe—in some societies, people believe one thing; in other societies, people believe differently. The conclusion, however, concerns what really is the case. The trouble is that this sort of conclusion does not follow logically from this sort of premise.

Consider again the example of the Greeks and Callatians. The Greeks believed it was wrong to eat the dead; the Calla­tians believed it was right. Does it follow, from the mere fact that they disagreed, that there is no objective truth in the matter? No, it does not follow; for it could be that the practice was objec­tively right (or wrong) and that one or the other of them was simply mistaken.

To make the point clearer, consider a different matter. In some societies, people believe the earth is flat. In other soci­eties, such as our own, people believe the earth is (roughly) spherical. Does it follow, from the mere fact that people dis­agree, that there is no “objective truth” in geography? Of course not; we would never draw such a conclusion because we realize that, in their beliefs about the world, the members of some societies might simply be wrong. There is no reason to think that if the world is round everyone must know it. Simi­larly, there is no reason to think that if there is moral truth everyone must know it. The fundamental mistake in the Cul­tural Differences Argument is that it attempts to derive a sub­stantive conclusion about a subject from the mere fact that peo­ple disagree about it.

This is a simple point of logic, and it is important not to misunderstand it. We are not saying (not yet, anyway) that the conclusion of the argument is false. That is still an open ques­tion. The logical point is just that the conclusion does not follow from the premise. This is important, because in order to deter­mine whether the conclusion is true, we need arguments in its support. Cultural Relativism proposes this argument, but un­fortunately the argument turns out to be fallacious. So it proves nothing.
2.4. The Consequences of Taking Cultural Relativism Seriously
Even if the Cultural Differences Argument is invalid, Cultural Relativism might still be true. What would it be like if it were true?

In the passage quoted above, William Graham Sumner summarizes the essence of Cultural Relativism. He says that there is no measure of right and wrong other than the standards of one’s society: “The notion of right is in the folkways. It is not outside of them, of independent origin, and brought to test them. In the folkways, whatever is, is right.” Suppose we took this seriously. What would be some of the consequences?

1. We could no longer say that the customs of other societies are morally inferior to our own. This, of course, is one of the main points stressed by Cultural Relativism. We would have to stop condemning other societies merely because they are “differ­ent.” So long as we concentrate on certain examples, such as the funerary practices of the Greeks and Callatians, this may seem to be a sophisticated, enlightened attitude.

However, we would also be stopped from criticizing other, less benign practices. Suppose a society waged war on its neigh­bors for the purpose of taking slaves. Or suppose a society was violently anti-Semitic and its leaders set out to destroy the Jews. Cultural Relativism would preclude us from saying that either of these practices was wrong. (We would not even be able to say that a society tolerant of Jews is better than the anti-Semitic soci­ety, for that would imply some sort of transcultural standard of comparison.) The failure to condemn these practices does not seem enlightened; on the contrary, slavery and anti-Semitism seem wrong wherever they occur. Nevertheless, if we took Cul­tural Relativism seriously, we would have to regard these social practices as immune from criticism.

2. We could decide whether actions are right or wrong just by con­sulting the standards of our society. Cultural Relativism suggests a

simple test for determining what is right and what is wrong: All one need do is ask whether the action is in accordance with the code of one’s society. Suppose in 1975 a resident of South Africa was wondering whether his country’s policy of apartheid—a rigidly racist system—was morally correct. All he has to do is ask whether this policy conformed to his society’s moral code. If it did, there would have been nothing to worry about, at least from a moral point of view.

This implication of Cultural Relativism is disturbing be­cause few of us think that our society’s code is perfect—we can think of all sorts of ways in which it might be improved. Yet Cul­tural Relativism not only forbids us from criticizing the codes of other societies; it also stops us from criticizing our own. After all, if right and wrong are relative to culture, this must be true for our own culture just as much as for other cultures.

3. The idea of moral progress is called into doubt. Usually, we think that at least some social changes are for the better. (Although, of course, other changes may be for the worse.) Throughout most of Western history the place of women in society was narrowly cir­cumscribed. They could not own property; they could not vote or hold political office; and generally they were under the almost ab­solute control of their husbands. Recently much of this has changed, and most people think of it as progress.

But if Cultural Relativism is correct, can we legitimately think of this as progress? Progress means replacing a way of do­ing things with a better way. But by what standard do we judge the new ways as better? If the old ways were in accordance with the social standards of their time, then Cultural Relativism would say it is a mistake to judge them by the standards of a dif­ferent time. Eighteenth-century society was a different society from the one we have now. To say that we have made progress implies a judgment that present-day society is better, and that is just the sort of transcultural judgment that, according to Cul­tural Relativism, is impossible.

Our idea of social reform will also have to be reconsidered. Reformers such as Martin Luther King, Jr, have sought to change their societies for the better. Within the constraints imposed by Cultural Relativism, there is one way this might be done. If a so­ciety is not living up to its own ideals, the reformer may be re­garded as acting for the best; the ideals of the society are the stan­dard by which we judge his or her proposals as worthwhile. But no one may challenge the ideals themselves, for those ideals are by definition correct. According to Cultural Relativism, then, the idea of social reform makes sense only in this limited way.

These three consequences of Cultural Relativism have led many thinkers to reject it as implausible on its face. It does make sense, they say, to condemn some practices, such as slavery and anti-Semitism, wherever they occur. It makes sense to think that our own society has made some moral progress, while admitting that it is still imperfect and in need of reform. Because Cultural Relativism implies that these judgments make no sense, the ar­gument goes, it cannot be right.
2.5. Why There Is Less Disagreement Than It Seems
The original impetus for Cultural Relativism comes from the observation that cultures differ dramatically in their views of right and wrong. But just how much do they differ? It is true that there are differences. However, it is easy to overestimate the ex­tent of those differences. Often, when we examine what seems to be a dramatic difference, we find that the cultures do not dif­fer nearly as much as it appears.

Consider a culture in which people believe it is wrong to eat cows. This may even be a poor culture, in which there is not enough food; still, the cows are not to be touched. Such a soci­ety would appear to have values very different from our own. But does it? We have not yet asked why these people will not eat cows. Suppose it is because they believe that after death the souls of humans inhabit the bodies of animals, especially cows, so that a cow may be someone’s grandmother. Now shall we say that their values are different from ours? No; the difference lies elsewhere. The difference is in our belief systems, not in our val­ues. We agree that we shouldn’t eat Grandma; we simply dis­agree about whether the cow is (or could be) Grandma.

The point is that many factors work together to produce the customs of a society. The society’s values are only one of them. Other matters, such as the religious and factual beliefs held by its members, and the physical circumstances in which they must live, are also important. We cannot conclude, then, merely because customs differ, that there is a disagreement about values. The difference in customs may be attributable to some other aspect of social life. Thus there may be less dis­agreement about values than there appears to be.

Consider again the Eskimos, who often kill perfectly nor­mal infants, especially girls. We do not approve of such things; in our society, a parent who killed a baby would be locked up. Thus there appears to be a great difference in the values of our two cultures. But suppose we ask why the Eskimos do this. The explanation is not that they have less affection for their chil­dren or less respect for human life. An Eskimo family will al­ways protect its babies if conditions permit. But they live in a harsh environment, where food is in short supply. A funda­mental postulate of Eskimo thought is: “Life is hard, and the margin of safety small.” A family may want to nourish its babies but be unable to do so.

As in many “primitive” societies, Eskimo mothers will nurse their infants over a much longer period of time than mothers in our culture. The child will take nourishment from its mother’s breast for four years, perhaps even longer. So even in the best of times there are limits to the number of infants that one mother can sustain. Moreover, the Eskimos are a no­madic people—unable to farm, they must move about in search of food. Infants must be carried, and a mother can carry only one baby in her parka as she travels and goes about her outdoor work. Other family members help however they can. Infant girls are more readily disposed of because, first, in this society the males are the primary food providers—they are the hunters, following the traditional division of labor—and it is obviously important to maintain a sufficient number of food providers. But there is an important second reason as well. Be­cause the hunters suffer a high casualty rate, the adult men who die prematurely far outnumber the women who die early. Thus if male and female infants survived in equal numbers, the fe­male adult population would greatly outnumber the male adult population. Examining the available statistics, one writer con­cluded that “were it not for female infanticide ... there would be approximately one-and-a-half times as many females in the average Eskimo local group as there are food-producing males.”

So among the Eskimos, infanticide does not signal a fun­damentally different attitude toward children. Instead, it is a recognition that drastic measures are sometimes needed to en­sure the family’s survival. Even then, however, killing the baby is not the first option considered. Adoption is common; childless couples are especially happy to take a more fertile couple’s “sur­plus.” Killing is only the last resort. I emphasize this in order to show that the raw data of the anthropologists can be misleading; it can make the differences in values between cultures appear greater than they are. The Eskimos’ values are not all that dif­ferent from our values. It is only that life forces upon them choices that we do not have to make.

2.6. How All Cultures Have Some Values in Common
It should not be surprising that, despite appearances, the Eski­mos are protective of their children. How could it be otherwise? How could a group survive that did not value its young? It is easy to see that, in fact, all cultural groups must protect their infants. Babies are helpless and cannot survive if they are not given ex­tensive care for a period of years. Therefore, if a group did not care for its young, the young would not survive, and the older members of the group would not be replaced. After a while the group would die out. This means that any cultural group that continues to exist must care for its young. Infants that are not cared for must be the exception rather than the rule.

Similar reasoning shows that other values must be more or less universal. Imagine what it would be like for a society to place no value at all on truth telling. When one person spoke to another, there would be no presumption that she was telling the truth, for she could just as easily be speaking falsely. Within that society, there would be no reason to pay attention to what any­one says. (I ask you what time it is, and you say “Four o’clock.” But there is no presumption that you are speaking truly; you could just as easily have said the first thing that came into your head. So I have no reason to pay attention to your answer. In fact, there was no point in my asking you in the first place.) Communication would then be extremely difficult, if not im­possible. And because complex societies cannot exist without communication among their members, society would become impossible. It follows that in any complex society there must be a presumption in favor of truthfulness. There may of course be exceptions to this rule: There may be situations in which it is thought to be permissible to lie. Nevertheless, these will be ex­ceptions to a rule that is in force in the society.

Here is one further example of the same type. Could a so­ciety exist in which there was no prohibition on murder? What would this be like? Suppose people were free to kill other peo­ple at will, and no one thought there was anything wrong with it. In such a “society,” no one could feel safe. Everyone would have to be constantly on guard. People who wanted to survive would have to avoid other people as much as possible. This would inevitably result in individuals trying to become as self­-sufficient as possible—after all, associating with others would be dangerous. Society on any large scale would collapse. Of course, people might band together in smaller groups with others that they could trust not to harm them. But notice what this means: They would be forming smaller societies that did acknowledge a rule against murder. The prohibition of murder, then, is a nec­essary feature of all societies.

There is a general theoretical point here, namely, that there are some moral rules that all societies must have in common, because those rules are necessary for society to exist. The rules against lying and murder are two examples. And in fact, we do find these rules in force in all viable cultures. Cultures may differ in what they regard as legitimate exceptions to the rules, but this dis­agreement exists against a background of agreement on the larger issues. Therefore, it is a mistake to overestimate the amount of difference between cultures. Not every moral rule can vary from society to society.

2.7. Judging a Cultural Practice to Be Undesirable
In 1996, a 17-year-old girl named Fauziya Kassindja arrived at Newark International Airport and asked for asylum. She had fled her native country of Togo, a small west African nation, to escape what people there call “excision.” Excision is a perma­nently disfiguring procedure that is sometimes called “female circumcision,” although it bears little resemblance to the Jewish practice. More commonly, at least in Western newspapers, it is referred to as “female genital mutilation.”

According to the World Health Organization, the practice is widespread in 26 African nations, and two million girls each year are “excised.” In some instances, excision is part of an elab­orate tribal ritual, performed in small traditional villages, and girls look forward to it because it signals their acceptance into the adult world. In other instances, the practice is carried out by families living in cities on young women who desperately resist.

Fauziya Kassindja was the youngest of five daughters in a devoutly Muslim family. Her father, who owned a successful trucking business, was opposed to excision, and he was able to defy the tradition because of his wealth. His first four daughters were married without being mutilated. But when Fauziya was 16, he suddenly died. Fauziya then came under the authority of his father, who arranged a marriage for her and prepared to have her excised. Fauziya was terrified, and her mother and old­est sister helped her to escape. Her mother, left without re­sources, eventually had to formally apologize and submit to the authority of the patriarch she had offended.

Meanwhile, in America, Fauziya was imprisoned for two years while the authorities decided what to do with her. She was finally granted asylum, but not before she became the center of a controversy about how we should regard the cultural practices of other peoples. A series of articles in the New York Times en­couraged the idea that excision is a barbaric practice that should be condemned. Other observers were reluctant to be so judgmental—live and let five, they said; after all, our culture probably seems just as strange to them.

Suppose we are inclined to say that excision is bad. Would we merely be imposing the standards of our own culture? If Cul­tural Relativism is correct, that is all we can do, for there is no culture-neutral moral standard to which we may appeal. But is that true?
Is There a Culture-Neutral Standard of Right and Wrong?
There is, of course, a lot that can be said against excision. Excision is painful and it results in the permanent loss of sexual pleasure. Its short-term effects include hemorrhage, tetanus, and septicemia. Sometimes the woman dies. Long-term effects include chronic infection, scars that hinder walking, and continuing pain.

Why, then, has it become a widespread social practice? It is not easy to say. Excision has no apparent social benefits. Unlike Eskimo infanticide, it is not necessary for the group’s survival. Nor is it a matter of religion. Excision is practiced by groups with various religions, including Islam and Christianity, neither of which commend it.

Nevertheless, a number of reasons are given in its defense. Women who are incapable of sexual pleasure are said to be less likely to be promiscuous; thus there will be fewer unwanted pregnancies in unmarried women. Moreover, wives for whom sex is only a duty are less likely to be unfaithful to their hus­bands; and because they will not be thinking about sex, they will be more attentive to the needs of their husbands and children. Husbands, for their part, are said to enjoy sex more with wives who have been excised. (The women’s own lack of enjoyment is said to be unimportant.) Men will not want unexcised women, as they are unclean and immature. And above all, it has been done since antiquity, and we may not change the ancient ways.

It would be easy, and perhaps a bit arrogant, to ridicule these arguments. But we may notice an important feature of this whole line of reasoning: It attempts to justify excision by show­ing that excision is beneficial—men, women, and their families are said to be better off when women are excised. Thus we might approach this reasoning, and excision itself, by asking whether this is true: Is excision, on the whole, helpful or harmful?

In fact, this is a standard that might reasonably be used in thinking about any social practice whatever: We may ask whether the practice promotes or hinders the welfare of the people whose lives are affected by it. And, as a corollary, we may ask if there is an alter­native set of social arrangements that would do a better job of promoting their welfare. If so, we may conclude that the exist­ing practice is deficient.

But this looks like just the sort of independent moral stan­dard that Cultural Relativism says cannot exist. It is a single stan­dard that may be brought to bear in judging the practices of any culture, at any time, including our own. Of course, people will not usually see this principle as being “brought in from the out­side” to judge them, because, like the rules against lying and homicide, the welfare of its members is a value internal to all vi­able cultures.

Why, Despite All This, Thoughtful People May Nevertheless Be Reluctant to Criticize Other Cultures.
Although they are per­sonally horrified by excision, many thoughtful people are re­luctant to say it is wrong, for at least three reasons.

First, there is an understandable nervousness about “in­terfering in the social customs of other peoples.” Europeans and their cultural descendants in America have a shabby history of destroying native cultures in the name of Christianity and En­lightenment. Recoiling from this record, some people refuse to make any negative judgments about other cultures, especially cultures that resemble those that have been wronged in the past. We should notice, however, that there is a difference be­tween (a) judging a cultural practice to be deficient, and (b) thinking that we should announce the fact, conduct a cam­paign, apply diplomatic pressure, or send in the army. The first is just a matter of trying to see the world clearly, from a moral point of view. The second is another matter altogether. Some­times it may be right to “do something about it,” but often it will not be.

People also feel, rightly enough, that they should be toler­ant of other cultures. Tolerance is, no doubt, a virtue—a toler­ant person is willing to live in peaceful cooperation with those who see things differently. But there is nothing in the nature of tolerance that requires you to say that all beliefs, all religions, and all social practices are equally admirable. On the contrary, if you did not thin, that some were better than others, there would be nothing for you to tolerate.

Finally, people may be reluctant to judge because they do not want to express contempt for the society being criticized. But again, this is misguided: To condemn a particular practice is not to say that the culture is on the whole contemptible or that it is generally inferior to any other culture, including one’s own. It could have many admirable features. In fact, we should expect this to be true of most human societies—they are mixes of good and bad practices} Excision happens to be one of the bad ones.

2.8. What Can Be Learned from Cultural Relativism
At the outset, I said that we were going to identify both what is right and what is wrong in Cultural Relativism. But I have dwelled on its mistakes: I have said that it rests on an invalid ar­gument, that it has consequences that make it implausible on its face, and that the extent of moral disagreement is far less than it implies. This all adds up to a pretty thorough repudiation of the theory. Nevertheless, it is still a very appealing idea, and the reader may have the feeling that all this is a little unfair. The the­ory must have something going for it, or else why has it been so influential? In fact, I think there is something right about Cul­tural Relativism, and now I want to say what that is. There are two lessons we should learn from the theory, even if we ulti­mately reject it.

First, Cultural Relativism warns us, quite rightly, about the danger of assuming that all our preferences are based on some absolute rational standard. They are not. Many (but not all) of our practices are merely peculiar to our society, and it is easy to lose sight of that fact. In reminding us of it, the theory does a service.

Funerary practices are one example. The Callatians, ac­cording to Herodotus, were “men who eat their fathers” — a shocking idea, to us at least. But eating the flesh of the dead could be understood as a sign of respect. It could be taken as a symbolic act that says: we wish this person’s spirit to dwell within us. Perhaps this was the understanding of the Callatians. On such a way of thinking, burying the dead could be seen as an act of rejection, and burning the corpse as positively scornful. If this is hard to imagine, then we may need to have our imagina­tions stretched. Of course we may feel a visceral repugnance at the idea of eating human flesh in any circumstances. But what of it? This repugnance may be, as the relativists say, only a mat­ter of what is customary in our particular society.

There are many other matters that we tend to think of in terms of objective right and wrong that are really nothing more than social conventions. We could make a long list. Should women cover their breasts? A publicly exposed breast is scan­dalous in our society, whereas in other cultures it is unremark­able. Objectively speaking, it is neither right nor wrong—there is no objective reason why either custom is better. Cultural Rel­ativism begins with the valuable insight that many of our prac­tices are like this; they are only cultural products. Then it goes wrong by inferring that, because some practices are like this, all must be.

The second lesson has to do with keeping an open mind. In the course of growing up, each of us has acquired some strong feelings: We have learned to think of some types of con­duct as acceptable, and others we have learned to reject. Occa­sionally, we may find those feelings challenged. For example, we may have been taught that homosexuality is immoral, and we may feel quite uncomfortable around gay people and see them as alien and “different.” Now someone suggests that this may be a mere prejudice; that there is nothing evil about homosexual­ity; that gay people are just people, like anyone else, who hap­pen, through no choice of their own, to be attracted to others of the same sex. But because we feel so strongly about the mat­ter, we may find it hard to take this seriously. Even after we lis­ten to the arguments, we may still have the unshakable feeling that homosexuals must, somehow, be an unsavory lot.

Cultural Relativism, by stressing that our moral views can reflect the prejudices of our society, provides an antidote for this kind of dogmatism. When he tells the story of the Greeks and Callatians, Herodotus adds:

For if anyone, no matter who, were given the opportunity of choosing from amongst all the nations of the world the set of beliefs which he thought best, he would inevitably, af­ter careful consideration of their relative merits, choose that of his own country. Everyone without exception be­lieves his own native customs, and the religion he wasbrought up in, to be the best.
Realizing this can result in our having more open minds. We can come to understand that our feelings are not necessarily perceptions of the truth—they may be nothing more than the result of cultural conditioning. Thus when we hear it suggested that some element of our social code is not really the best, and we find ourselves instinctively resisting the suggestion, we might stop and remember this. Then we may be more open to discov­ering the truth, whatever that might be.

We can understand the appeal of Cultural Relativism, then, even though the theory has serious shortcomings. It is an attractive theory because it is based on a genuine insight, that many of the practices and attitudes we think so natural are re­ally only cultural products. Moreover, keeping this thought firmly in view is important if we want to avoid arrogance and have open minds. These are important points, not to be taken lightly. But we can accept these points without going on to ac­cept the whole theory.

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