What Is Morality?

I. What Is Morality?

As I understand it, morality is about questions of right and wrong, good and evil.

II. Why Does Morality Matter?

Morality guarantees neither wealth nor respect. It offers almost no visible benefits.

Why bother studying such abstract matters?

Yet it is profoundly important, becoming increasingly so with age and experience.

Especially when your beliefs clash sharply from those around you—when determining who is right and who is wrong becomes an urgent matter—you cannot just turn away and pretend nothing happened.

In reality, morality is far more complex than many people realize.

In martial arts fiction, villains often justify their actions by saying things like “If a man doesn’t look out for himself, heaven and earth will destroy him”, or “A real man must be ruthless.” Odd as it is, that’s still morality–the need to justify one’s actions to oneself as morally acceptable.

Above all, morality is about dignity.

Wealth cannot resolve spiritual emptiness; social status does not guarantee respect; intelligence often seems shallow when faced with the complexity of real life. What, then, gives up real dignity? Only what can endure self-scrutiny–inner consistency, principled thinking–can support that diamond-hard core of the human spirit.

III. Tools for Thinking

Assumptions and logic.

Traditional moral values may not always hold up.

The beliefs we absorb from childhood might not withstand scrutiny.

Even the majority opinion isn’t necessarily right.

And within the realm of morality, there’s a difference between what is and what ought to be. Just because something is a certain way doesn’t mean it should be that way.

The only reliable way to test a claim is true is through its assumptions and its logic.

If the premises are sound and the logic is valid, then no matter how shocking the conclusion, it must be correct.

IV. Does Objective Morality Exist?

Or put more commonly: Do you believe in universal values?

On this question, there are three camps:

Nihilism believes they do not exist;

Relativism believes they exist but are subjective;

Objectivism believes they exist and are objective.

1. Relativism

Let’s start with the weakest position.

Relativism acknowledges that morality exists but denies universal values. What’s considered right or wrong depends on society or the individual. What applies in one culture may not apply in another; what’s right for one person may not be right for another.

You’ve likely heard this before: “Every country has its own conditions”.

But relativism quickly collapses under scrutiny.

If you say a moral claim is true, and I say it’s false, we can’t both be right — only one of us can be. A theory that insists we’re both right ends up contradicting itself.

If you need to add “in your opinion” or “according to your society” before every moral claim, then sure, you eliminate contradiction — but you also eliminate the disagreement. And once the disagreement disappears, there’s nothing left to debate. Moral discussion becomes meaningless.

Furthermore, it cannot explain moral progress. Was the morality of the past just as good as today’s? Was the old version of me just as right as the current one?

And if you argue, “Morality must respect historical and cultural context,”–congratulations—you’ve just stepped into the light, because that statement itself is a universal moral judgment – a claim you’re asking everyone to accept. In doing so, you’ve already abandoned relativism.

If you insist on doubting universal values, you might as well go full nihilist.

2. Nihilism

Nihilism includes two major schools of thought:

First is error theory, which denies morality altogether, just as atheism denies God.

It argues that the world has no moral features whatsoever. The physical world may have objective properties, but moral values are entirely human-made.

There are no moral facts, so there’s no basis for saying any moral judgment is true or false.

In the end, morality is simply a human invention — a fiction.

Second is expressivism, which holds that moral judgments do not reflect reality but merely express emotions.

When we say “heroic deeds are moral,” we’re really saying “Nice job! Thumbs up.”

When we say “rape and murder are immoral,” what we’re really expressing is, “Ugh, gross — stop that.”

In short, moral language is just emotional expression. There’s no actual judgment being made — and therefore no question of right or wrong.

3. Objectivism

Objectivism holds that objective moral standards exist and believes in universal values.

So far, neither nihilism nor objectivism has clearly won the debate.

I myself once followed the view that “Good and bad are artificial constructs.”

However, like Ivan in The Brothers Karamazov, even though he didn’t believe in God or eternal life and claimed humans could do whatever they wanted, he ultimately couldn’t escape the moral torment surrounding old Karamazov’s death.

Nihilism may be a powerful weapon against moral coercion, but it hasn’t completely resolved my issues.

While we cannot yet prove that universal values truly exist, there’s also no argument to definitively refute them.

Universal values do not require absolute rules. Objectivity and strictness are different things—Newton’s laws don’t hold at the quantum or relativistic level, but this doesn’t deny their objectivity.

Equal rights do not negate universal values. You have your morality, I have mine; we both have the right to speak, but that doesn’t mean we’re equally right.

Cultural differences aren’t enough to disprove universality. What looks like difference on the surface may share deeper common logic.

Disagreement isn’t proof against objectivity. People once fiercely debated geocentrism and heliocentrism. Some still think the Earth is flat.

Science can’t disprove objective morality — because science can’t even prove the foundations of science itself.

The strongest challenges to objectivism are these: 1.

The Argument from Absolute Reasons: If universal values are real, they should provide unconditional reasons to act — but they don’t. So, are they really objective? 1.

The Moral Motivation Problem: Belief alone doesn’t lead to action. I believe the sun rises in the east, but that belief doesn’t require me to do anything. Yet moral beliefs seem to carry an inner push toward action–which suggests morality isn’t in the realm of true/false at all.

Still, for objectivism to build a moral house, nihilism must try to tear it down. It’s this very tension — between building and dismantling — that helps create something truly solid.

Though the debate isn’t settled, I personally need a house to shelter me from the storm.

So, for now, I stand with objectivism: I believe universal values exist.

V. What Counts as Moral?

1. Divine Command Theory—God Creates Morality

Socrates asked Euthyphro: Do the gods love pious acts because they are pious, or are they pious because the gods love them?

All divine command theories face this Euthyphro dilemma:

If God’s moral commands are based on no reason, they’re arbitrary — which undermines their authority.

If God has reasons for these commands, then it’s those reasons, not God, that determine right from wrong.

In a largely secular society like China, we might replace “God” with Confucius or any other revered figure.

So we are justified in agreeing with Christopher Hitchens:

“Human decency and morality is not derived from religion. It precedes it.”

Do we need God to motivate moral behavior?

If I do good only to earn a place in heaven or to expect rewards for kindness, is that morally meaningful?

Doing the right thing for selfish or external gain may result in good outcomes, but it lacks moral worth.

Two years ago, I raised this question at a book club on To Kill a Mockingbird:

Can deeply moral individuals only exist in societies with religious belief?

I still remember being unsatisfied with one attendee’s answer:

She said the protagonist acted morally for the sake of his children — to build a better world for them.

But that reflects a very typical Chinese moral reasoning: doing good for others, but ultimately for one’s own family.

In truth, Atticus Finch did what he did because it was right.

Justice itself was enough of a reason.

As Rust said in True Detective:

“If the only thing keeping a person decent is the expectation of divine reward, then brother, that person is a piece of shit.”

More broadly: If the only reason someone behaves decently is the hope of some external gain — then that person is a piece of shit.

True moral motivation comes from a love and respect for the things in life that deserve moral regard.

Religion is not a prerequisite for morality.

2. Natural Law — The Laws of Nature

Natural law theory grounds morality in the natural order: Everything in nature has a purpose or essence. Whatever aligns with that natural essence is good; whatever violates it is bad.

But here we run into a problem. In English, “law” is used for both natural laws (like Newton’s laws) and moral laws. But they function very differently.

Natural laws describe and predict behavior. They cannot be broken — you can’t violate gravity. But moral laws can be broken. They don’t predict behavior, and people disobey them all the time.

Natural laws can set the limits of human behavior — for example, jumping off a ten-story building will kill you — but they can’t tell you what you ought to do.

They describe what is, not what should be.

3. Egoism—Maximizing Personal Interest

3.1 Psychological Egoism—Everyone Is Selfish

First, a question: Is everyone selfish and incapable of altruism?

The answer to this question is crucial. If this view holds, it means the failure of morality.

If everyone is truly selfish and incapable of altruism, morality cannot require self-sacrifice.

On this point, we should trust appearances.

Because there is indeed evidence of altruistic behavior in the real world, and evidence doesn’t support this judgment.

Everyday life, academic research, and numerous experiments show that sympathy can motivate altruistic action.

While you can still claim all altruistic behavior is for dopamine/a good night’s sleep/long-term benefits, that seems overly contrived.

3.2 Ethical Egoism—Everyone Should Be Selfish

I remember a civics class in eleventh grade where the teacher asked whether people are all selfish. I answered: If everyone were selfish, then no one could be selfish, because you couldn’t freely take someone else’s share.

In hindsight, I was clearly answering the wrong question. The teacher was asking about psychological egoism; my reply was about ethical egoism.

Psychological egoism is a claim about human nature. Ethical egoism is a moral theory: our sole moral duty is to maximize our own self-interest.

Ayn Rand represents this view: the best way to improve everyone’s condition is to have each person pursue their own good. Here’s a mahjong example: if every player kept accounting for everyone else’s wins and losses each round, things would get confusing fast; but if each keeps track only of their own score, the game runs smoothly all night.

The problem arises when our interests conflict: where do others’ interests stand then? Under ethical egoism, others’ interests count for zero. “Sacrifice a hair for the benefit of all?” Sorry — that’s beyond my moral duty. Scarlett O’Hara’s famous line: If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again. By that logic, if theft and murder prevent me from starving, then I have a moral obligation to commit them.

4. Utilitarianism—Maximizing Overall Happiness

The moral principle of utilitarianism is simple: maximize overall happiness.

In Chinese context, utilitarianism often carries a negative connotation — but that’s a misunderstanding based on the word “utility.”

Utilitarianism actually presupposes equality and impartiality: whether you’re rich as a prince or poor as a beggar, your happiness counts the same in its moral calculus.

It is flexible in moral reasoning — as long as the outcome is good, almost nothing is absolutely forbidden.

But that flexibility is both its strength and weakness.

Suppose the money you have could either treat your son’s illness or save two strangers. Who should you save?

Suppose one healthy person’s organs could save five dying patients — should you do it?

A strict utilitarian would say yes — always choose the action that brings the greater total happiness.

But is that truly right?

And who among us can ever predict all the consequences?

To address this, some philosophers propose rule utilitarianism — the idea that morality equals the optimal set of social rules: if everyone followed these rules, the result would be best for all.

Yet every rule, no matter how well designed, can fail in certain situations. So if you clearly see that your rule is failing — should you still follow it? Or should you abandon it in pursuit of the best outcome?

5. Kantian Ethics—Justice Above All

Kant elevated moral rules to the supreme position.

For Kant, moral laws are categorical: they must never be violated.

He rejects the idea that benevolence is the core of morality, arguing instead that justice and integrity are central.

The test of a moral maxim is whether it can be universalized. Imagine a world in which everyone follows my rule — would my aim still be achievable?

For example, suppose you live in a region with severe gender imbalance. Your aim is to continue your family line, and your rule is to abort female fetuses or kill female infants. If everyone followed that rule, only males would remain, and your aim would be impossible. Therefore your maxim is immoral.

Kantian integrity means holding to one’s moral principles without treating oneself as an exception.

People sometimes call Chinese culture “Social Darwinist,” but according to Kantian consistency, that wouldn’t really make sense: a true social-Darwinist, once realizing he is not one of the fit, should calmly accept being eliminated.

The same logic applies to a fanatic Nazi: once discovering he’s Jewish, he should walk into the gas chamber without hesitation.

But you can’t rule out true fanatics doing this. So by the consistency principle, fanatical Nazis are virtuous people, because they upheld their principles.

To address this, Kant had another principle about morality—the humanity formulation:

Always treat humanity as an end, never merely as a means.

Rationality and autonomy ground human dignity and grant persons a distinctive moral status. Reason lets us set ends for ourselves; autonomy lets us legislate moral laws for our own lives. Because of these capacities, every person deserves respect.

This explains my aversion to terms like “brainwashing” or “manipulation”: they demean human rationality and autonomy. People are capable of discerning right from wrong and capable of choosing what to believe. Though many abandon these capacities and brainwashing becomes widespread, we cannot deny that some people still judge rightly and legislate for themselves.

For Kant, the morality of an action does not depend on its consequences but on the maxims and the freedom to act on them — elements for which we can accept full responsibility.

Future outcomes, which involve contingency and luck, should not be the standard for moral judgment; rather, moral appraisal should rest on past actions.

Goodwill is the only thing that has moral worth in all circumstances.

We do what we see we must do morally — and we do it for that reason alone, without regard for public opinion or cost-benefit calculations.

Act rightly; don’t worry if the heavens fall.

6. Social Contract Theory—The Shared Choice of Free and Rational Beings

Social contract theory sees morality as essentially a social matter.

Morality is a system of rules that promote cooperation and punish betrayal, rescuing us from the state of nature and freeing us from the prisoner’s dilemma.

As long as we are free, equal, and rational beings, we can all agree to such rules.

To test whether a rule is moral, imagine standing behind the veil of ignorance — unaware of whether you were born slave or master, male or female, Black or white, Christian or Muslim. When all personal characteristics are stripped away and everyone starts from the same position, would you still agree to that rule?

This approach explains the objectivity of morality: if morality was not created by humans, where else could it have come from?

Morality is a set of mutually beneficial rules that would be endorsed by people like us — but freer and more rational.

Moral rules need not be eternal truths like the laws of physics. They are optimal solutions derived from human nature and social conditions — like a Nash equilibrium.

The reasoning process is human, but the result itself is independent of any individual’s will.

Yet social contract theory has its own problems. It suggests that immoral behavior can still be rational.

If morality arises from rules of cooperation, it assumes people are at least partly self-interested — and that self-interest is rational.

But why should I, in reality, obey rules I would have agreed to only in an imaginary, identity-free state?

In theory, I might gladly donate ten oxen; in reality, when I own one, I’m unwilling to give it up.

So is consent supposed to be hypothetical or real?

And if morality comes from external social constraints, why not enjoy the benefits without paying the costs — free-riding on others’ compliance?

Suppose there exists a technologically superior alien civilization — why would they make and honor a contract with humans?

By the same logic, why should you care for the weak, the sick, or the elderly?

In that sense, the claim that morality is based on cooperative reciprocity seems idealized; the more realistic version may rest on mutual capacity for harm.

But what, then, of those without the power to harm?

And are those who have power but choose restraint doomed to be exploited?

Social contract theory, for all its insight, offers no absolute reason to obey morality.

There are, of course, many other ethical theories — such as moral pluralism, which holds that multiple fundamental moral principles coexist, rather than one supreme rule. Yet I find such theories unsatisfying, as they fail to resolve conflicts of priority.

There’s also feminism, but I currently lack deep empathy. I may study it separately later.

Conclusion:

Up to this point, the theory I relate to most is Kant’s—it best matches my natural moral instincts.

I value justice over outcomes, and consistency over benevolence.

Morality matters in itself, not because of any reward or punishment.

Human dignity arises from morality, and moral worth stems from goodwill.

Kant shows us how to live with ourselves: use reason to make our own laws and stay true to our principles.

The social-contract view shows us how to live with others: reciprocity grounded in consent and agreement.

VI. Some Real-World Moral Questions

1. Are Ordinary People the Ultimate Measure of Morality?

What moral responsibility should residents of County X bear for human trafficking?

Are ordinary Russians affected by sanctions innocent?

If innocent, why?

If guilty, what moral responsibility do they bear for Putin’s war?

2. Who Counts as “We”?

What moral obligations does a person have to their original community?

How should one rightly respond to discrimination?

If your moral beliefs sharply diverge from the majority in your group, who then remains your moral community?

3. Justice vs. Forgiveness

Justice sounds noble, yet its goddess wields a sword.

Justice implies retribution, punishment, an eye for an eye, remembering wrongs, enforcing justice at any cost.](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!QK9i!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdc7c0d42-26d1-4e03-a4c4-26e38877ce1d_760x535.jpeg)Image of Justice statue

Scripture presents two Gods:

The Old Testament God – vengeful and world-destroying, the embodiment of justice;

The New Testament God – preaching forgiveness and love for one’s neighbor: when struck on the left cheek, offer the right as well.

In youth, such teaching seemed absurd. With age and experience, its meaning grows clearer: vengeance is human; forgiveness is divine.

When should we cling to our human nature and carry out justice, and when should we transcend it and choose forgiveness?

4. What’s Wrong with Patriotism?

Lee Kuan Yew once observed that Scandinavian nationalism motivates citizens to accept high taxes for the good of their compatriots, while elsewhere nationalism turns into iron locks and clubs wielded against one’s own.

Obviously, there is good patriotism and bad. But how do we tell them apart? Perhaps goodwill offers the key.

Is national interest the highest principle for judging one’s moral stance?

If so, why? If not, what is?

5. What’s the Problem with the “White Left”?

Do you agree with so-called white-left liberal ideas?

If you do, on what grounds?

If not, what’s the problem—flawed position or flawed reasoning?

Is this ultimately a matter of moral stance, or of intellect?