Dr. Seuss and Philosophy - Jacob M. Held [87]
This, in fact, is how we grow up. A small child may selfishly claim a toy as hers and refuse to share. A parent could simply order the child to share and threaten punishment if she did not. What the child learns in that case is fear of punishment and blind obedience. Instead, one could try to teach the child to imagine what it is like for other children never to get to use the toy. What the child may learn then is to use her imagination in order to understand how other people feel; the child may develop sympathy and kindness. From the act of sharing the child may learn to play with others rather than alone and so develop a more complex and social personality. New values, like friendship, emerge to limit the earlier desire to keep the toy. This, in turn, gives the child a broader range of experience by which to judge actions and options in the future. In Green Eggs and Ham, Sam’s friend has the initial belief that he dislikes green eggs and ham. This judgment is changed by the simple experience of trying them. New experiences can be the basis of new “prizings,” but they can also make us reevaluate our old beliefs. If we see human life as the ground from which such new and richer values can grow, we cease trying to “master” a resistant nature and learn to cultivate fertile ground.
Such a picture, however, should not be taken naïvely. All sorts of values can spring from experience. One child may discover a capacity for empathy, but another may discover the pleasure of bullying others or torturing animals. A child who breaks a glass may discover the courage to be honest when asked “Did you break this?,” but she may also discover creative talents in lying and the power to deceive. Dewey does not shy away from the difficulty of this reality; this is precisely why the moral life must cultivate virtues of thoughtful reflection and critical reevaluation. He would point out to those who would unequivocally say that empathy and honesty are good and bullying and deceit are bad how ambiguous our moral existence really is.
Is telling the truth always right? The German philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724–1804) said “yes.” Kant’s test for a moral act was whether we could universalize the “maxim” or rule of action implied in it without contradiction. And indeed one can consistently universalize the maxim “always tell the truth” into a law for all rational beings; no contradiction follows. One cannot do so for lying—a world of universal liars is logically impossible. But would you honestly tell an enraged, drunken husband that his estranged wife was staying in your house? During war, skilled “liars” are employed to deliver false intelligence to the enemy. Likewise we may ask: is empathy always good? We may empathize with someone in such a way so that she remains dependent and focused