Morality is good (1) but the moral ideology is terrible. I introduce what I call the moral ideology by way of an important but often forgotten point. The Milgram experiment has never been refuted. The ambient sense that the replication crisis or critical reappraisals have substantially deflated the experiment is wrong. I then turn to what I call the Moral Ideology in a more general sense, outline its features, propose that it can serve as a unifying framework for much of empirical moral psychology, and give what I think is the most persuasive picture of ethics out past it.
That the Milgram experiment has never been substantially undermined
20 volts: “Ugh! Hey, this really hurts.”
270 volts: (Agonized scream.) “Let me out of here. Let me out of here. Let me out of here. Let me out. Do you hear let me out of here.”
300-volts: (Agonized scream.) I absolutely refuse to answer any more. Get me out of here. You can’t hold me here. Get me out. Get me out of here.
After the 345-volt switch onwards, the learner is silent. (Are Milgram’s Obedience Studies Internally Valid? Critique and Counter-Critique, Russell and Gregory (2021)).
In 1961, Stanley Milgram showed that under comparatively modest social pressure a lot of people will administer a shock they knew would cause a person agonising pain. Worse, they had every reason to suspect the shock might be lethal given the confederate’s statement that he had a heart condition, and later silence. In Milgram’s experiment, the percentage complying to the final shock was 65%, but the exact number shifts with conditions, and a substantially larger portion cooperate beyond the limits of social acceptability.
Now I know what you’re thinking “eww, social psychology”. However, the experiment was replicated multiple times, and while aspects of it have come under critique, the force of this critique has been much exaggerated. “Many, many ordinary people will administer what they think is an agonising, dangerous electric shock under relatively modest social pressure” has never been refuted. It has been replicated in experiments not conducted by Milgram himself in many countries around the world, most replications finding obedience rates >50%. This is true even though many were not setup to maximise obedience but to test some special variation. Further, considering the post-2000 replications despite their admitted limitations (2), the core conclusion likely has not changed either.
You wouldn’t know it from the way people talk about it. Tibor Rutar for example in his ambitiously titled article Everything you know about Zimbardo, Milgram, and Asch is wrong brings the following accusations against Milgram:
“First, the figure of 65% obedient subjects came from only the first of 24 different versions of Milgram’s experiment.” and in other experiments the figure was as low as 10%.”
True, but misleading, many of these other experiments were deliberately designed not to maximise pressure on the subjects. Subsequent replications using the same methodology as the first experiment got similar results well north of 50%.
“Second, approximately half of the subjects doubted that the experiment was genuine – that is, they doubted that their actions were actually delivering electric shocks to another person. Among those who were convinced that the shocks were real, the majority (two thirds) refused the experimenter’s commands.”
Close to true but misleading and not all that exculpating. The data Tibor is mentioning comes from a survey by Milgram reanalysed in Perry, Brannigan, Wanner & Stam (2020). 56% of participants said they fully believed. Of these 38% cooperated, a frighteningly large number in itself. Worse though, this was across all experimental conditions including the less potent ones. Across all surveyed subjects, regardless of belief condition, the obedience rate was 44%. Not a huge difference. Note also: of those who did doubt, over half (24%) believed the learner was probably getting the shocks, and that “refused the experimenter’s commands” here means didn’t administer the final shock-. The “learner” begs for the experiment to stop long before the final shock and expresses great pain, so even for many of the subjects who did not ultimately comply, behaviour was disappointing.
“Third, the first version of Milgram’s experiment shows, at most, that most people are willing to trust authority when it is presented as science, not that they will trust any form of authority whatsoever.”
True, but personally I would not be sanguine about the results being different if the authority in question were, say, the police. Other reinterpretations along these lines include the engaged follower account associated with Reicher, Haslam and Smith who note, among other things, that direct commands during the experiment were not particularly successful, but identification played a strong role. Regardless, this will be largely irrelevant for my argumentative purposes, although it matters for the broader interpretation of the experiment.
Milgram certainly emphasised obedience, obedience and obedience in his analysis of the results- and there are reasons to think that was simplistic, human psychology is pluralistic. I have no horse in this race; my concern is with something more like moral failure than obedience. However, I will comment in passing that the results pretty obviously have something to do with obedience and pathological obedience as commonly understood. A lot of the anti-obedience interpretation seems like an “overcorrect against the classic study” phenomenon. Obedience itself is a complex phenomenon and includes numerous facets, and engaged followership, I would argue, is one such facet. This quote by Reicher, Haslam and Smith advancing their own view captures how fine some of the distinctions are being drawn:
“Despite the rich array of explanations in the literature, the dominant view remains that the destructiveness of Milgram’s participants is a product of blind obedience to authority. However, we suggest that it can instead be understood as an act of engaged followership that flows from social identification with those in positions of leadership—leadership that is a source of “shared comprehension, consonance and synchronization”
What they are describing is not so much “not obedience” as “not a caricature of zombie like obedience”. Certainly, Milgram bent the stick very far one way, so the response is understandable, but the differences between the interpretations shouldn’t be overstated. I would also note that the engaged follower interpretation of obedience on its own struggles to explain the sweating, shaking begging subject who nevertheless continues.
The general pattern in the literature is that the result is scuffed, but fundamentally intact. It would seem not everything I know about the Milgram experiment is wrong.
I described the experiment as utilising modest social pressure. Many of you will, I think, protest that. But by the standards we would normally evaluate mitigation the pressure was modest. No one was threatened with unemployment, lost friendships, family estrangement, public denunciation, confiscated assets, legal trouble or physical injury. There was an escalating structure, verbal demands, and lab coats. That’s not nothing, to be sure, but it is far more modest than is often conceded.
To my mind the best mitigation that has been offered is the ambiguity defence. This sophisticated position rejects the notion that the typical participant either knew or did not know that the experiment was unreal. Rather, the participants existed in a sort of epistemic grey zone, collapsing back to heuristics like “this is safe because it’s being run by a prestigious university” as a response to that ambiguity. And hey- those heuristics weren’t wrong- the learner wasn’t ultimately hurt. This state of ambiguity may well have held even if participants said afterwards that they really believed things were as they appeared. This kind of confusion is complex and difficult to put into words. Evidence for this view is that when the ambiguity was removed- for example, subjects were told that the learner’s health didn’t matter in Mixon’s experiment, rates of obedience were low.
The reason this can never be a complete defence is that the subjects believed, or ought to have believed, that grave harm was a real possibility given their other beliefs about the situation. The button said XXX. The subjects generally reported they thought the experiment was real and the learner was being shocked. The learner was saying all sorts of disturbing things. Under these conditions and with that set of beliefs, the rational inference is that if you push the button, you might kill or seriously injure someone. Those who were not sure the experiment was fake were reckless, not merely negligent.
Now a lot of people who commit serious crimes do so in a state of irrational, bizarre ignorance about exactly what it is they are doing; they rely on heuristics like “I can trust my friends not to lead me into any serious wrongdoing”. Indeed, even many of the crimes that most make our blood boil have this element. This irrational ambiguity is mitigating; indeed I would say more mitigating than the legal system typical admits. However, if you kill someone like this you are still a killer. A mitigated killer, to be sure, but a killer, nonetheless. It is, as mitigation goes, not all that strong. The participants were lucky not to be in the situation most of them thought they were. Nestar Russell and Robert Gregory (2021) put it admirably like so:
“[t]he resilient issue of believability is a red herring, because Milgram’s procedure ensured subjects remained uncertain about the reality of the shocks they were ostensibly delivering. This uncertainty forced all subjects into resolving the experiment’s inherent moral dilemma. That is, would they prematurely end a potentially real experiment and secure the learner’s safety? Or would they continue to inflict “shocks” they believed were perhaps, probably, or even most certainly fake, thus still running the risk of potentially being wrong?”
Oddly, the thing that best proves that the participants were not innocent is also the strongest mitigation. Many were sweating, trembling, weeping, groaning- acting every bit like people who thought they were in a moral situation with extraordinarily high stakes. One participant asserted: “I can’t stand it I’m not going to kill that man in there. You hear him hollering” and then continued under prompting.
The other reoccurring critique is that the experiment was deeply unethical. This is obviously true. I would not be surprised if one or more persons were destroyed for life by the studies run in the sixties, or even by one of their later replications, which inherit the original’s ethical stain, despite mitigations. The whole point of the experiment is to take an uninformed person off the street and get them to do something gravely wrong. The fact that as recently as 2009 ethics committees were authorising this infuriates me. A friend of mine had to use passive snowballing for his oral history PhD because being asked to participate in an oral history study might upset some people for christssake.
The participants deserve our sympathy, as do the staff involved in running the experiment, some of whom were almost certainly harmed in one way or another. However, the ethical failures of the experiment are just as obviously irrelevant to the conclusion. If anything, the lack of ethical oversight in an institution is very slightly verifying of the thesis of the experiment.
The Milgram experiments implications for our moral condition
We never as a society fully metabolised the Milgram experiment. Recently, the replication crisis in psychology, and social psychology in particular, gave us an excuse to stop thinking about it. But the replication crisis never came for the Milgram experiment. Milgram held up well through several rounds of modern replication. This is unsurprising. Compliance of a significant portion of the population isn’t a r=0.2 or d=0.35 style effect, or something found through garden-of-forking paths style multiple comparison. Circumstantial moral luck is an apparent difference in moral status due to the circumstances you happen to find yourself in. For example, the man who never joined the Nazi party simply because he wasn’t invited. If, like me, you don’t think circumstantial moral luck makes a difference to moral standing, then all around you are killers who just never walked into the wrong lab. In fact, one of them might be standing very close to you indeed.
Now consider that Milgram’s experiment is only one crucible. People who did not break under those conditions and do something drastically immoral would break under others. Different souls unlock Pandora’s box for different keys. What the Milgram experiment shows is that there are certain simple, fairly dainty keys that open many locks. The idea that most people are good people in the clear, categorical sense we usually mean it (“they wouldn’t do anything truly awful, at least not without great pressure”) does not hold.
In the strongest terms, I do not say any of this to indict the participants. Nothing could be more repulsive to me than to target the victims of institutional abuse. The whole power of the thing is that they could be any of us. Rather I say all this to indict, more than any other single person, myself, and secondarily, everyone else or almost everyone else. Having made that indictment, I propose to tear it up.
The situationist approach in psychology arose in part in response to the Milgram experiment. Situationism, in its strongest form critiques the idea that people have character. It is certainly true that character is overrated as an explanatory factor in many circumstances, however, people clearly diverge in patterns of behaviour, even if not always reliably. The best approach, adopted by many of the situationists themselves, is that character is a function mapping counterfactual situations to behaviours. If we take that approach the awful, unpalatable truth of what the Milgram experiment showed is not that people don’t have characters, that’s cope. Rather, what the experiment showed is that people have characters and most people’s character is terrible in certain respects.
Or to make the same point in milder terms, most people’s character is deeply inconsistent in its valence across situations. Almost every person contains oceans of good and evil. In Game of Thrones, the character Melisandre (herself tragically flawed) says:
“If half an onion is black with rot, it is a rotten onion”
I would suggest that if you want to live among humans in something other than a state of total alienation, despair and self-hatred, you must reject this in your bones. You should reject as hard as you can the idea that containing vast evil makes someone evil (3).
The moral ideology
The Milgram experiment is just one of countless observations that refutes what I call the moral ideology. Yet the ideology goes on full force. The moral ideology (4) is a cluster of interconnected beliefs. The most famous of those beliefs is the just world fallacy- the assumption that if something bad happens to someone, it is because they did the wrong thing at some point- bought it on themselves. However, there are many other beliefs in this cluster, most of which have already been recognised individually in the literature. The best term in English for this cluster is moralism, but I propose we should start thinking of this cluster more precisely, as an object of scientific and philosophical study. I think that, in doing so, we can achieve something that is often absent in the social sciences. A larger theoretical apparatus rather than a grab bag of phenomena. It is hard to give a complete list of what the Moral Ideology advocates, but I would suggest the following list is a start:
People have strongly consistent moral characters over time and situations. (c.f. Dweck’s work on entity v incremental theorists)
People’s moral characters are basically good or bad- admixture between different domains (good in one area, bad in another) is not the norm. (A bunch of work is relevant here, Baumeister’s work on evil for example.)
If people change at all, they get worse. Redemption and moral growth are fake or are only possible in the lowest grades of wrongdoing.
Good things happen to good people, and bad things happen to bad people. (the Just World Fallacy, c.f. Lerner)
If something bad happens it is because of malicious will. Harm does not arise from social structures that no one in particular is to blame for. [In its strongest form, this belief comes to exclude even natural causes of harm, some tribes do not believe in natural death.] (Gray’s dyadic morality is relevant here)
Harm done by individuals does not arise from mistakes, tragic rather than culpable differences in values or beliefs, etc. Harm done by individuals arises from ill will. (Gray’s dyadic morality is relevant here).
Moral luck is unreal in the sense that people’s records reflect their character. The drunk driver who kills someone and the drunk driver who doesn’t, the person who was tempted by circumstances and the man who never was; all these people must be different and not just protected or victimised by moral luck.
The aspects of a person’s moral persona that are most apparent to me, and particularly what they have done to me or where I can see them are diagnostic of their total character. It’s not too hard to know someone’s character. A vibe, an expression, a handful of anecdotes, all of these can reveal a person. (c.f. Fundamental attribution error, entity theorists).
If someone is really irritating, troublesome or otherwise a bother they’re probably a bad person.
Victims only “count” as worthy of redress or sympathy if they are blameless.
Being a bad person is infectious. You can become morally contaminated by spending time with bad people or even speaking of them with insufficient contempt. (C.f. Rozin on contagion)
Blame is conserved. If you say that a structure helped facilitate some harm, you are letting the perpetrator off the hook by reducing their blame.
Explanations are excuses and thus should not be proffered for people we don’t like. (Baumeister’s work on evil and the resistance to explaining it is relevant here)
Strong negative moral emotions (disgust, contempt, fury) are veridical and shouldn’t be doubted as guides to moral reality.
I and my friends deserve a richer class of moral evaluation than this, however.
My best attempt at distilling the underlying principles is: A) essentialism of character (1,2,3,10). B) Certainty and clarity of evaluation of character (7, 8, 9, 12, 13, 14) C) exaggerated potency of moral character to affect the world in a reliable, straight-line way (4,5,6,7,11) and D) double standards (15). The Milgram experiment, incidentally, puts pressure on 1,2 5, 6,7, 8 and arguably 12.
The pillars support each other. Essentialism of character makes ease of evaluation more plausible. Likewise, if moral character and intention are simple undivided things, their potency is more likely. A, B and C all undergird D because living with that apparatus turned on yourself is hard.
Why does the moral ideology exist? All the pillars enable quick thinking about what would otherwise be painful and difficult subjects, and are, especially when used jointly, a powerful source of social weaponry. In a world in which there is little cost to ourselves in writing off others quickly, but potentially substantial costs of we extend too much trust, the ideology has a certain selfish rationality of externalised costs (and I would anticipate it covaries with social trust). Note also that the moral ideology serves a social purpose, it redirects attention away from structural problems- see the law and order auction before the election. It is ironic, then, how readily many who style themselves as radicals have adopted it.
Thus, I conjecture there would be value in research that considered these beliefs as a common moralism structure. I conjecture further that no one, or almost no one is completely in thrall to these beliefs, or completely free of them, and that most who verbally reject propositions of this form likely incorporate them into their behaviour and judgments, nevertheless. Indeed many of the propositions aren’t the sort of thing a sensible person would assent to verbally, and so in studying whether these ideas form a correlated complex psychologically, it will be important to consider practices of judgment against vignettes as well as direct assertions. These constructs are themselves not unidimensional in a person- critically as we have already acknowledged their intensity varies from enemy to friend. Political beliefs probably form a massive mediator- which areas a person adopts the moral ideology in, and which areas they reject it, may vary on the basis of their political valence.
The weakest version of the hypothesis is that the moral ideology will be emerge as a coherent cluster in cases where it is politically concordant, targeted at outsiders and expressed through vignettes. But I suspect the moral ideology as a dimension along which people vary will be present far more obviously than this, and that different contexts will reliably elicit the moral ideology more or less obviously.
There are already correlational results supportive of the idea that the beliefs I have identified form a cluster. What I am proposing is far from a bolt from the blue, it is rather the harmonisation of what much of empirical moral psychology has been pointing at for a long time; the composition of many stones already gathered into a unified paradigm. Although I don’t necessarily think the relationship is so simple as a moralism common factor, many of the correlations are already established. Just to pick a few. Moral-vitalism (Bastian et al. 2015) and correlates strongly with belief in pure evil (Bastian et al. 2015 (Study 3, N=223)). Moral vitalism correlates with need-to-evaluate (associated with the items in pillar B). Belief in Pure evil has a negative association with the complexity of moral attribution. There is, I think, enough of a case to run experiments see if these beliefs form a larger structure, and if so, what form that structure takes.
Practical conclusions
The moral ideology is not wholly wrong. Life does, of course, give us evidence about variance in people’s moral character. It’s true, for example, that a smallish slice of the population does a startling portion of the interpersonal harm. In our own life, the moral ideology cautions us that the leopard does not always change its spots, and that is, I think, often the sad truth. If you care about not being cheated on a lot, and your partner has cheated on you three times, you’d be wise to think three times before having them back. This is true regardless of whether it makes them in some sense a bad person. Being friends with someone who is actively still doing vast evil is generally wrong, and falling in with the wrong crowd can be bad for your character.
There is an extreme version of the critique of the moral ideology that would, if adopted, make you deeply vulnerable to exploitation. I do not want that for you. It is wise to keep an eye on other’s moral personality, but in a more reflexive and cautious spirit than is normal. Balance, not just principles are needed here. Likewise, intellectually, we would be poorer if we felt we had to pretend there are not important moral-personality differences between people, or if we felt we were forbidden to study them. But tragic nuggets of wisdom aside, it is wrong both morally and epistemically to hold the cluster of views I am calling the moral ideology.
What does it mean to try to be good beyond the moral ideology? There are a lot of ways of being good, but here’s one picture. The two people I look to here are Simone Weil and Maria Skobtsova (5) because they provide a moral concept of attention or attending to the others that can be productively counterposed with judgment. Here’s my own sketch, which is a little different from theirs in a few respects. To do good beyond the moral ideology means to do good for the love of doing good, and not for the vain hope of being, in some simple overall sense, a good person (6). It means to attend to the people you can help as worthy of help and worthy of understanding, indeed worthy of being etched out in understanding, beyond all simple categories, even though you never will be able to complete the task. To move beyond the ersatz knowledge of quick judgments, and to the richer geography of each soul. To move back and forth between swelling action and swelling comprehension.
For me it’s not some meditative exercise, as if one were trying to stuff them as hard as possible into your awareness, it’s about a link between how you how you value you them, how you act to help them and how you try to comprehend them in all their richness, beyond judgment. Whether the target of your comprehension and aid is an individual, the species, all sentient beings, or something in between; recognise the impossibility of ever knowing more than a fraction of them, and yet regardless, to paraphrase Maria Skobtsova, orient your inner world towards them. (7)
Footnotes:
(1): In the comments of any essay like this, if more than say 10 people comment, it is likely that a person shall appear purporting that there is some important difference between ethics and morality that I haven’t recognised. The instructive thing here is that they never agree on what that difference is. Some insist that morality refers to sex-and-purity stuff- the Victorian squad, whereas ethics refers to nice humanistic matters. Relatedly some say that morality is cultural whereas ethics is universal. Some think of morality as personal whereas ethics governs the social. Sometimes, developing on this, ethics is seen as the codified rules (ethics committees, professional ethics), morals as the private conscience. Others close to flip this - ethics is your private conscience, whereas morals is the conventionally agreed stuff. The truth is that there is no clear distinction between “ethics” and “morals” in the English language. Usually, however the distinction is drawn, the speaker will identify “ethics” as opposed to “morality” as the higher portion.
(2): The post-2000 experiments generally go up to 150V, which in the original experiments almost always predicted going all the way. This is the point at which the “Learner” withdraws consent to participate in the experiment, so proceeding past it is an ethically, not just a predictively, significant step. 70% of participants took that step in Burger (2009). Burger (2009) explains it this way: “Because 79% of Milgram’s participants who went past this point continued to the end of the shock generator’s range, reasonable estimates could be made about what the present participants would have done if allowed to continue. Obedience rates in the 2006 replication were only slightly lower than those Milgram found 45 years earlier.” A later replication in Poland got slightly higher obedience rates than the original experiment. Granted, the 150V limit reduces the shock of the experiment somewhat, but the results line up with what we would expect from the experiments conducted in the sixties. There were noble reasons to run these experiments but there are, even with the 150V maximum concession, still baiting people into doing highly immoral things- apparently causing substantial pain past consent. These experiments should not be repeated.
(3): Is this, as they say, cope - a practical accommodation that avoids facing hard reality? I don’t think so. Even for a strict moral realist who thinks that the rightness and wrongness of actions, and what states should be desired or not, the bounds of what makes someone morally disgraceful, beyond the pale, worthy of being called evil is human drawn. It seems unlikely that “IF YOU WOULD DO X IN Y SITUATION YOU QUALIFY AS AN EVIL PERSON BY THE VERY LAWS OF ETHICS” is written into the fabric of moral reality, thus you get to pick. And since you get to pick, you should pick so as to achieve moral and practical ends- a compassionate and nurturing world. I said above that people’s character is bad in certain respects, but you can choose whether or not this licences the inference that they are overall bad. So, if you really must set a line for evil-personhood worthy of shame and opprobrium set it circumspectly in light of these observations. So circumspectly that even people who would kill someone to avoid social awkwardness don’t meet it. Or better yet, don’t set it at all.
Let me here address an objection of a reader of a draft- essentially, they found something contradictory between my assertion that you are surrounded by counterfactual killers, who are in no way are mitigated by simply not having been in the situation, and the rest of the essay. I see no contradiction. The contradiction only arises if you think descriptions like “killing” or “killer” flatten out an action or person, say all there is to say about the person or act. But that’s the very thing I’m rejecting. People can be killers and of almost any moral character relative to other people, that’s what’s been shown.
(4) There’s a key-jangle overlap where with William’s The Morality System but if anything, Williams is, overall, pulling in the opposite direction.
(5) Murdoch thinks this too, but I know less about her. It’s important not hold people as mere iconography of what you think, I do not agree with Skobtsova and Weil on everything. They would find me, I suspect, altogether too cunning, driven towards victory, focused on maximising help like an axiological economist. The concept of attention I outline here would strike them as too intellectualised, as if it were mind reading or the fantasy of telepathy. I could defend these choices, but I’m sure you can trace out the argument yourself. Gosh, I wish I could have met them though.
(6) As many including Weil have noted regarding the desire to be a good person it’s about you. This is not to say that those who experience the desire to be a good person, or even to be regarded as a good person are venal or selfish. It usually reflects a wound, the longing for the assurance of love, and I would know. Yet undeniably the higher moral aspiration is to help.
(7) A final thought. The almost pragmatic argument implicit in the text and given in footnote three is correct, but there are some additional subtleties. In the story of the woman taken in adultery, those in the crowd are challenged to throw the first stone if they have no sin. Suppose one of them had retorted “but my sins are minor, I have never done anything like adultery”. Suppose for a moment, Jesus humoured this and made an argument like what we have given viz the Milgram experiment- the only reason you have not done worse is circumstantial luck. Something is missing in the usual way that we think of injunctions to not judge because our own sins are too great.
Don’t condemn lest you be condemned is perfectly sensible, and I would support it as far as it goes, but it has the character of something like an argument ad baculum at its worst, and an injunction against naughty hypocrisy as its best. The deeper point is this. Good is meant for us. Good is supposed to be a friend to all. Universal condemnation is not compatible with this. Our own failures illustrate vividly how easily simple divisions of the moral world can result in universal condemnation. Thus, simple divisions cannot be the way of the good.
But further, I think that at least for most, condemnation is simply unsustainable. suppose you were to face the totality of experience. All of it, the agony, the joy, the mud, the attempts to fly to heaven and the wishes, however muted and distorted for something better. Suppose you saw the torturous roads by which we are all formed and watched as, whether weeping or smiling sadly, we all went the way of all flesh. Suppose you saw into each person’s inner world and their desperate thwarted longings to be happy, to not suffer, to be whole.
Now, at the end, you were granted the right to look inside your own soul, to see the impossibly vast mapping of self-circumstance-action we have discussed. Most likely you would find in yourself potential grave wrongdoings, but perhaps you wouldn’t. If you saw grave wrongdoings in yourself, and if you had seen all the suffering and unhappy circumstance of even the best life, how circumspect would you be to condemn the lives of others having seen your own grave weaknesses- terrible things you would do if the circumstances were arranged wrongly? But if you found in yourself no darkness, lovelessness or harsh anger, no circumstance in which you would do something terrible then, likewise being a creature of love could you bear to condemn others? No doubt there are parameters settings of the soul which would make condemnation possible under these circumstances of human omniscience for one with an active conscience, but the space may be quite slender. Categorical judgment then is typically an expression of ignorance.
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