I was recently reminded of the paradox of the relativist, which is the insistent assertion that there is no objective truth, that is, truth that applies equally to everyone.  The paradox, to be painfully evident, is that one cannot say, on the one hand, that there is no objective truth while, on the other hand, claiming the objective truth that there is no objective truth. 

One could come up with any number of pithy sayings to this effect, but to say it right out may be more productive: relativism has no rational or moral grounds on which to stand and judge other ideologies.  It is self-defeating.  Essentially, it is an irrational plea against reason and truth; it is an abandonment of reason in favor of such conflicting impulses as practicality, compassion, selfishness, and humility.

Don't mistake me.  I am not saying that relativists are inherently evil or even that they're any worse, humanly speaking, from the average exclusivist.  There are plenty of good people who adhere to this philosophy, some of which are my own friends and family members.  Most people do not critically think about their philosophy—they just go with the flow. 

And the flow these days is with relativism, as is supremely evident in the mass media and just as evident in the conversation of everyday folks.  There is the implicit assumption that we cannot “judge” others’ way of approaching life (that is to say others’ philosophy), that what may be true and best for me is not true for others.  To say otherwise garners almost immediate anathema or, at the very least, shock and awe.

At the same time, I wouldn’t say that there aren’t any opportunists that use relativism for nefarious purposes.  Surely there are.  And surely there are those who, when relativism is challenged, shy away for less than laudable reasons.  After all, if I can’t tell you that what you think or how you act is not good, you can’t tell me either.  Thus, each of us gives the other a moral carte blanche to do what we will as long as we don’t hinder each other in our pursuit of pleasure.

But truly, I’d say almost any philosophy can be abused; however, abusus non tollit usum—the abuse of a thing does not nullify its proper use.  The real question for the thinking person is whether or not relativism is the best approach to life, even when it is at its best, even when it is held for praiseworthy reasons. 

This question should be applied to any philosophy, including Christianity and other religions.  How often do we hear so-called arguments against religion that ultimately boil down to abuse of it?  The answer, simply put, is almost all the time; it is rare to hear a rational argument against religion that does not hang on its abuse.  But I will not fall prey to that temptation in this essay; I will consider what is good in relativism and show how its good is not peculiar to it and how it is essentially flawed. 

Relativism is expressed in so many superficially beneficent ways as, for example, wanting to legalize same-sex marriages, wanting to exterminate any apparent endorsement of particular religions, not wanting to "judge" anyone, etc.  At its heart is a seemingly ultra-rational principle, i.e., "I might be wrong."  As an example, in response to a previous post of mine, a reader expressed concern that I might actually hold to something I consider to be objectively true; he said “the definitive tends to make me uneasy, so from my perspective, your certainty increases my uncertainty.”

I think most people who hold to relativism do so out of good will and humility to believe they might be wrong and to avoid “judging” another.  I would also wager that its popularity today is chiefly due to human history that involves people who injure and kill those who disagree with them.  Humanity has a very bad record when it comes to dealing with those that disagree with it.  And that is, while a compelling non-rational motivation, still based in the logical fallacy of abusus non tollit usum.

This historical facts—the abuse of humans at the hands of other humans—are rather an argument against relativism.  Relativism implicitly assumes that humans are innately good; otherwise, it would not follow to believe that what another believes is ipso facto good for them.  Our history shows quite unabashedly that humans are anything but innately good; it is patently clear that our nature is to be selfish at the cost of others.  So we cannot presume that another’s philosophy is okay, and once we acknowledge this, we are forced to judge others’ philosophies (and our own) to endeavor to find what is a good philosophy for us all.  And thus relativism falls flat.

Ultimately, relativism is a self-defeating philosophy that no rational person should cling to.  Any attempt to rationally think about it and apply it causes innumerable contradictions, and the goods that make relativism so popular today, i.e., good will, charity, compassion, and humility, are goods that are promoted by other more consistent philosophies.  Indeed, there are perfectly good exclusivist philosophies that do not require the extermination of all who disagree.  Christianity, despite claims to the contrary, is one of these.

One can happily and reasonably believe in the existence of a personal God, that Jesus is who he is reported to be, that the Church is who she claims to be, and in all the consequent doctrine without being forced to believe that one must force that faith on others.  It is certainly true that some have believed that force should be used to convert others, but they are far and away a minority in Christian history.  And especially today, that belief is virtually non-existent. 

Nor is it necessary to believe that all who are not active church members are damned to hell.  Of course, this is contested by some fundamentalists today, but they are still a very small minority.  Unfortunately, this is the view that logically leads to the idea that force is acceptable because, after all, if one believes another is damned if he doesn't believe as you do, that person loses his human dignity and can therefore be treated as less than human, either to be exterminated or forcibly converted.  But the Christian Gospel is anything but that. 

Quite the contrary, one can have all the aforementioned virtues implicit in relativism, while still maintaining a rational ground to stand on.  Good will is at the heart of the Gospel.  At the Nativity of Christ, the angels proclaimed the message of peace on earth and good will to men (or to men of good will, depending on your translation).  Charity is the chief virtue of Christianity—St. Paul wrote that even if we have all the wonders of heaven and its virtues, without charity, they are empty.  Compassion is the central motivating factor in the Incarnation and ministry of Jesus, and we are called to share with Jesus in his passion (his suffering) as well as the suffering of the least of us (the poor).  Humility is also a virtue implicit in Christianity—we are all fallen human beings in need of God’s grace and all the good that we have comes from God, including our talents and abilities.

So you see that Christianity has all that commends relativism without requiring one to believe what is patently false and irrational—that what someone else believes is inherently good for them and that their beliefs are just as good as your own.

I am convinced that we must believe in something to give meaning to our lives.  This is not a desperate, irrational cry but a stark reality, for if we do not believe in something, we are merely automatons driven by our nature, no different than any other animal, plant, or protozoa.  And if we believe in something, we must believe it is better than believing in something else (or nothing) because if we did not think so, would we not believe in the something else that we considered to be better?

Truly, it seems clear that by choosing to believe in one thing over another, we are implicitly asserting that we believe it to be superior to another belief.  And if that is the case, why not say so?  Why should we falsely and irrationally claim something to the contrary?  Can we not say so without being arrogant?  I think we can.

Whether or not we are arrogant is not a matter of being exclusivist but rather in how one approaches interaction with others.  Surely we all recognize when one athlete is better than another, and often, athletes know this just as well as we do.  But that does not make them arrogant.  Demonstrating their abilities does not make them arrogant.  No, arrogance is a matter of attitude, in sports, in the workplace, and at the table of philosophical dialogue.

You can believe that your philosophy is better than mine.  In fact, you can believe that your philosophy is the best for the entire human race.  You can do this without being arrogant.  You can even attempt to demonstrate how your beliefs are best without being arrogant.  What makes you arrogant is how you do this.

Would it be arrogant for me to try to force my belief on you?  I think so.  Would it be arrogant for me to dismiss your beliefs?  Yes.  Would it be arrogant for me to make snide remarks and jokes about what you believe?  I tend to think so.  There are all kinds of ways that we can be arrogant, and in doing so, we can easily kill any productive dialogue.  But simply adhering to a set of beliefs and believing that they are the best for everyone is not arrogant.  It is logical.

So what say we stop patronizing each other and try to convince each other again that what we believe is best?  How about we quit stifling valuable, productive, and enriching dialogue?  Let’s be honest with each other and ourselves and see that we truly do believe in what we believe, and that what we believe is worth believing more than the alternatives.  But let’s also remember to do so in a spirit of good will, charity, compassion, and humility.