Whereas explanations (and science) are
attempts to describe how things are, justifications (and religion) are attempts
to describe how things ought to be.
by John
Tyburski
Copyright © I Need Politics, Tony Alexiou. All rights
reserved.
A certain
sweet little girl I know is completely caught up in the relentless habit of
asking why. Mostly I am happy to answer, but sometimes I am not, even though
something in me says I ought to feel like answering every time. This inner struggle drove me to search for the
circumstances that determine whether or not I feel like explaining things like why
there are 365 days in a year or why I parked in this spot versus one of eleven other empty spots. Meanwhile, recently
(and fortuitously) an acquaintance in an unrelated conversation uttered an
assertion extremely relevant to my conundrum: “Science is how you like your
coffee; religion is why you like it that way.” A light came on, a little girl
grinned, and I fell in love with this simple statement. You see, it captures a
fundamental truth… about answering “why?”
There are
myriad ways to answer “why?” yet only two distinct categories in which these
answers all reside: explanation and justification. Today we have the best
explanations in history for natural phenomena while our understanding of human
relationships remains woefully inadequate. We may present reasons for our words
and actions in our efforts to explain ourselves, but justifying what we say and
do is different in both process and purpose. At the very moment a chosen word
or course of action is featured against the backdrop of all other
possibilities, an appeal to morality is made and a justification emerges.
Whereas
explaining is, at its most basic level, a value-neutral process, justifying
words and actions always involves an appeal to a moral code. While explanations
are composed of reasons, justifications are made out of value judgments.
Whereas explanations (and science) are attempts to describe how things are,
justifications (and religion) are attempts to describe how things ought to be. It
is absolutely possible to wax lyrically about why one has said A or done X
without ever identifying the alternative words B and C or actions Y and Z. On
the other hand, it is impossible to justify the utterance of A without at least
implying why neither B nor C was spoken; that Y and Z never happened is often
the foundation for why X occurred.
Although
they may overlap when conditions are right, the spheres of explanation and justification
are distinct. Reasons and explanations may help form legitimate justifications.
However, when the will is wrong, reasons and explanations are prone to be
nothing more than excuses and may not serve as acceptable justifications for inexcusable
words or actions. The evidence for this assertion may be gathered from anyone
paid explanations for an apology debt (countless wives are nodding in approval).
Therefore, although we may have abundant reasons to include in our explanations,
we are never justified in giving an unkind word or action. Some things in life
are really that simple!
Moreover,
because we are (or at least should be) aware of our often unkind nature, we
ought to resist wrong reasons and unkind words and actions simply because these
things introduce adversity into relationships. When we recognize that our
reasons do not meet the criteria of kindness and righteousness, then we have an
obligation to offer apology for our words and actions. Without apology and
forgiveness, there is no hope for restoration of relationship.
It follows
that one needs a moral code in order to form justifications; there are many from
which to choose. Jesus’ Sermon on the
Mount might be worth looking at. In a recent essay for the Templeton
Foundation’s Big Questions Essay Series,
Steven Pinker, in his attempt to explain morality without an appeal to a moral
law giver, reiterated in more verbose terms The Golden Rule: Do unto others as
you would have them do to you. It is arguably a great start worth rehearsing
daily, regardless of one’s world view. If everyone could perfectly adhere to
this principle, then problematic justifications would not exist.
Sweet little
girls who ask why may or may not be a driving force in our intellectual and
ethical pursuits, but I suspect they are. Mine has taught me that to be kind
and describe how things ought to be is a much greater challenge than to simply
make excuses and describe how things are. Now that I have realized this
distinction, I endeavor to provide more acceptable justifications. These will
undoubtedly remain far outnumbered by my apologies, but justifying a lack of
effort by reasoning that to do otherwise is difficult is no more acceptable to
a child than to anyone else. In fact, we can all do better and for the sake of
little why girls, let’s try.
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