| | The longer this goes on, and the more I think about it, the more I wonder about the intelligibility or relevance of a concept such as "moral perfection."
The reason for the definitional problems we've had here is that it isn't even clear what "moral perfection" pertains to. Exactly what is it that exhibits, embodies or exudes the standard of "moral perfection"? Is it our actions? Our character (our moral habits and history of past moral choices)? Some inner attitude or mental state? What is it that's "perfect"?
If it is our actions, then how does "moral perfection" differ from simply "acting morally"? We don't say that Bidinotto is "morally perfect" when he goes to work. Or pays his mortgage. Or answers an emotionally difficult question with absolute honesty. How can you apply the standard "perfect" (ideal) to an isolated choice? We can say of each of these choices either that I acted morally, or I did not. But what do we gain from adding the concept "perfect" to any of these moral acts in isolation? Nothing that I can see.
So when we use the term "moral perfection," it doesn't seem to be an assessment of isolated actions.
What then?
I think we would all probably reject the idea that "moral perfection" refers to some attitude or inner mental state, apart from actions. Objectivism is not platonism.
What's left?
The only thing I can think of is that it pertains to character: to the aggregate of our choices, actions and habits, over some period of time. By its nature, an aggregate of choices and actions must take place over time. That means "character" necessarily pertains to our moral history or past record.
There's been considerable resistance here to the idea of applying the idea of "moral perfection" to one's past actions. Some have gone so far as to say that if that were done, nobody could be deemed "morally perfect." But if "moral perfection" necessarily pertains to character, and if character is a record of choices, actions and habits established over time, then "moral perfection" can only refer to an established record of total integrity and complete consistency over some period of time, in our thoughts and actions, in our principles and practices.
But over what period of time? When do we start the meter of moral assessment? At birth? At adolescence? Ten years ago? One? Last month? Any cutoff point seems utterly arbitrary and subjective.
Well, then what's the point? We are all in agreement that we should not be prisoners of our pasts. We are all in agreement that what's truly important, for each of us, is how we act now, and in the future. What, then, do we gain from a "concept" that doesn't pertain to any of the individual choices and actions we take now, or in the future? What do we gain by applying some abstract moral standard to assess our total past history -- or of some arbitrarily delimited past timespan -- which, in any case, is supposed to be irrelevant to who we are now? What do we gain from this evaluative preoccupation with the past?
I read somewhere that the ancient Greeks believed that a true moral assessment of a person's life could not, or should not, be undertaken before he was dead. And that undertaking necessarily would be done by others. Perhaps some notion of "moral perfection" might be relevant to the survivors in summing up the life of the departed. But of what practical benefit is such a concept to the deceased -- even while he still lived?
What, indeed, is the practical purpose of a concept of "moral perfection"? None that I can see. It is an evaluation of our moral histories up to the present -- but that's something we can't change. And as a practical guide for our current and future choices and actions, there is nothing added by the word "perfection" that is not already implied by the word "moral."
As far as I can tell, we don't seem to disagree here about what constitutes principled moral living. We agree that it's important to establish good moral habits, as part of our "character." We agree that we should act with integrity and moral consistency. And doing such things, day by day, moment by moment, may eventually add up to a life that someone may wish to label "perfect."
But the business of life is in the living of it, not the labeling of it.
An Objectivist should not live in order to be judged Perfect. He should act morally, in order to live.
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