Kids can be cruel. When they are arbitrarily mean to their own friends, ethical reflection can help. Victoria Whitaker talks us through building your child’s ethical muscle in testing times.

My daughter came home to me in tears last night. She shuddered, eyes wet, and a waterfall connected her nose to her mouth as she explained to me that her best friend had decided she didn’t like her anymore and she was no longer allowed to play in their small group of friends.

“Mummy, I am so sad. Who am I going to play with? Why doesn’t she like me?”

It’s cruelty at its peak. Of course, there is no reason. It’s a power play that seems to happen far too early.

“I know”, she said. “Can I invite her over to play? Then she will like me again”.

What do I do? Maybe having her over will help. But who wants friends like that?

I want my daughter to know her worth. I wanted her to consider this dilemma through the different ethical lenses. We talked.

I asked her to think about the consequences of having who she considered her best friend over. Yes, you might reconnect. But she might also find out how to push you around. And is this how you want your friends to treat you? Will you let all your friends do this? These questions relate to consequentialism, a mode of ethical thought that considers outcomes and consequences.

I also asked her what rights she had in this friendship. What things could she expect in friendship? And what duties do we have to our friends – in all friendships, not just this one? These questions relate to deontology, an ethical theory that prioritises our promises, as well as codes and rules over considering outcomes.

I asked her about the types of relationships she wants. Which relationships were most important to her and why? These questions relate to an ethics of care.

I asked her what sort of friend she would like to be. She told me she liked to have fun, to explore and play together, and valued being kind and caring. This question relates to virtue ethics, a type of thinking that values character and the type of person we aspire to be.

I asked her about the purpose of friendship and why it existed. What things were important about friendship to her? These questions relate to teleology, an ethical theory that considers the purpose of things.

And then we discussed in reflection of all these questions, if her friend was actually the friend she wanted. We talked about whether this little girl had the qualities she wanted from friendship. And we talked about her other friends and which ones did have those qualities she wanted. We also discussed what type of friend my daughter wanted to be… what sort of person she wanted to be. You don’t need a degree in ethics to have to have these conversations with your kids. We are all more expert in this stuff than we give ourselves credit for – our children too.

Ethics isn’t just thinking and talking. It requires action. My daughter and I discussed what steps she could take next. She was still keen to be friends, but her view of the friendship had changed. Her view of herself had changed too. And as such the friendship would change – and we discussed how that was okay.

This morning as we packed her bag and got her ready for the walk to school, the world didn’t seem as heavy as it was last night. And she seemed to carry herself just a little bit taller.

One of the more disturbing trends to emerge in public discourse recently has been the idea that we live in a ‘post-truth’ era.

While the phrase has most often been used in reference to President Trump’s frequent and shameless self-contradictions, it is also reflected in other debates. The anti-vaccination movement’s rejection of medical science, increasing distrust of the media, the success of political nihilism, as pioneered by 4-Chan, and the Flat-Earth theorists.

All of these movements reflect a growing idea: truth is simply a matter of opinion. The field of philosophy that deals with such foundational questions is metaphysics. It holds the honour of being both the most important, and most utterly infuriating pursuit one can engage in. On the one hand, metaphysics provides the foundation for all subsequent philosophy and ethics. On the other, it posits questions that are impossible to answer without being an omniscient deity.

But just because metaphysics cannot provide certainty, doesn’t mean it cannot provide conclusions. And in an age where “Well, that’s just your opinion” is considered a legitimate rebuttal, I feel that now is a good time to review a few popular myths of metaphysics:

Nihilism means I can do what I want

It should come as no surprise that post-truth enthusiasts have taken to the concept of Nihilism – or at least a simplified form of it. They argue that since life has no demonstrable ‘purpose’ everything we do is pointless. Ergo, if there’s no grand point to life, our actions are meaningless and we can all do whatever we want.

Nihilism is a serious philosophical theory worthy of deep consideration. It is also fairly easily debunked by slapping its proponents across the face. Life may or may not have a ‘purpose’, but the idea that such a vacuum would single-handedly annihilate the value of ethics blatantly ignores the very tangible existence of consequences.

All rules are constructs, therefore all rules are false

Any thorough analysis of a deontological system of ethics will quickly find exceptions. Since the value of a rule-based approach depends on our ability to rely on those rules, it is both intuitive and compelling to suggest that since all rules are social constructs, none hold inherent meaning.

But the conclusion that follows from this argument would agree that science is wholly void because it doesn’t yet offer us a perfect understanding of the universe. While rules-based approaches will inevitably be flawed to some degree, their ability to provide external accountability makes them invaluable ethical tools. They should be judged according to their merit, not their nature.

A lack of definitive proof makes your position false

Metaphysics is uncertain by nature. Questions like the nature of reality, for instance, cannot be answered while we are simultaneously immersed in it. As such, nearly every ontological theory very well could be true. We could be living in a simulation, we could be programs in a hyper-advanced computer, and it could even be possible that all things cease to exist when you’re not looking at them.

But while such uncertainty cannot be eliminated, we do have tools for managing it. Think of the scientific method, which demands objective evidence before conclusions are drawn. Thus far we have myriad proofs that reality is objective, even if our understanding of it is very much subjective. It is indeed possible that reality can be changed by our perception of it, a la The Secret and it’s ‘law of attraction’, but thus far lacking any evidence whatsoever to support such a theory, we can happily discard it.

My opinion is valid, because it is my opinion

Perhaps the most common post-truther stance is the argument that every opinion is valid, simply because someone holds it. You may believe racial segregation is a destructive force in society, but they believe it is better for all communities. You are entitled to your opinion and they are entitled to theirs – so the correct course of action is to vote and see which idea wins ‘on its merits’.

This argument plays strongly into the popular ideal of ‘freedom of speech’. It also happily bypasses the idea that opinions should be held accountable against available evidence. Apply such a standard, and the argument “I’m entitled to my opinion” quickly gains a qualification: You are not entitled to be wrong.

Who are you to tell me I am wrong?

Finally, we reach what in many ways is the foundation of the post-truth trend: who are you to tell me that something is wrong or right? These are my beliefs. How dare you attack something so important to me?

The practical answer to this question is quite simple: I have a right to challenge your opinion to ensure that factually invalid ideas do not lead to harmful conduct. But the psychological implications are far broader. It’s one thing to demonstrate your opinion is better supported by evidence than another person’s, but that isn’t the goal, is it? We can’t just point out another person’s error and expect them to immediately change their mind. In fact, cognitive biases such as the Backfire Effect, demonstrate that we are likely to get the opposite result.

The question of how best to engage with those that disagree with us is an important topic. But if the purpose of ethics is to help us decide what is right, then efforts to undermine ideas by appealing to uncertainty, relativism, and personal opinion must be seen for what they are: pure intellectual cowardice.

Only two years ago, I said the question of feminism’s success was over. Sure, there was still plenty of mopping up to do – ingrained practices and subconscious beliefs that needed to be rooted out – but the war was won. Feminism was now the socially and institutionally accepted norm in the developed world. Everything else was just details.

As you can imagine, I’m no longer so sure of that stance.

The Trump era demonstrates that for many, the war is far from over. Whether we’re talking about the Men’s Rights Movement, hypermasculine pick-up artists, or the extremist fringe Incel movement, a resurgence of anti-feminist sentiment in recent years raises some serious concerns for the future of the debate.

Sociological analysis of platforms such as YouTube, Reddit, and 4chan have noted that – quite contrary to the overall changes to social norms – anti-feminist sentiments appear to be resurgent in online forums. Feminist campaigners and scholars have approached this issue by attempting to demonstrate the feminist goals of dismantling gender roles and toxic masculinity are beneficial to men too, not just women. In spite of their efforts, anti-feminist sentiments are re-emerging in ‘real world’ political and social discourses.

But I believe that such approaches to this debate miss a key factor that underlines this revival of patriarchal masculinity.

“In the battle of the sexes, there can only be one winner. And it wasn’t men.”

Competing for power

For women, the development of feminism was an experience of expanding freedom, autonomy, and the right to both. Restrictive ideals of ‘feminine’ careers and pursuits were slowly dismantled, economic mobility and independence was gradually wrested from the patriarchy, and both political freedom, and the recognised right to that political freedom, became enshrined in law and the policy of private companies.

While nobody can reasonably deny this hard-earned progress towards equal rights was the ethical imperative, we should recognise that this newly-won power for women came from somewhere. It came from men.

If we understand power as the ability for an individual or group to control their circumstances, and if that power within a given context cannot be shared, it must instead be competed for by the parties involved. And while women have had every justification in seeking their fair share of power in order to control their circumstances, seeing their public role in the world burgeon as a result, this same process has seen men’s shrink.

In the space of one generation they have gone from the undisputed leaders of society and the family unit, to adrift in a sea of uncertainty as the new world order of equal rights asserts itself.

The Incel movement – “involuntarily celibate”

All of this is nicely illustrated by the emergence of the Incel subculture. ‘Incel’ is an abbreviation for ‘involuntarily celibate’. It is a community comprised of young men who feel that sex – or even the opportunity for sex – has been denied to them by women, both individually and collectively. The layers of psychology surrounding this are many and complex, as captured in excellent detail in this piece by philosopher Amia Srinivasan. But while it is both easy and accurate to describe a perceived entitlement to sex as severely problematic, doing so ignores one very important reality: in many regards, men used to have that power.

Even as recently as the 1990s, a masculine trope where men were responsible for providing for and protecting their families was still quite well established. They were told they should be upright, decent, considerate, and strong. And in return for all of this, they would attract female partners who would recognise these qualities, and those female partners would reward them with sex.

Needless to say, this is an incredibly simplistic and largely inaccurate perception of traditional gender roles, ignoring as it does the vast number of people that did not experience this simple equation or who were victimised by it. But the fact remains it was also somewhat true. Where strict gender roles are enforced by society, a man is offered a very simple formula to follow to get female companionship and/or sex. Fulfil the traditional role of a ‘man’ and women would inevitably seek out your company – usually because their traditional role as ‘women’ meant they had few other options.

The rise of feminism has seen increased freedom and opportunity for both genders, but while it saw the role of women grow, it also saw this traditionally dominant role for men shrink. Many men have seen this as an opportunity to grow beyond the old restraints of masculinity, but others have found themselves adrift, lacking even the old traditional guidelines to tell them what their purpose is and how they should conduct themselves.

“Masculinity today is in crisis. Old ways for men to understand themselves, their role and their purpose, have fallen apart.”

Faced with the potentially colossal existential crisis this presents them with, many men are turning to reactionary anti-feminist movements in psychological self-defence, preferring to externalise their crisis into a fightable enemy rather than undertake the daunting task of creating a new and better self – a project which by its very nature must be undertaken alone and is often very painful. The question before us is what we can offer those seeking an identity in this new, dynamic age that can provide that precious sense of self, which doesn’t also depend on unrighteous dominance over others.

This question is neither the fault, nor the responsibility of women. But faced with the reality of a resurgence in patriarchal political sentiment, it is a problem that feminists and their allies are forced to deal with – whether we like it or not.