Ethics: A Very Short Introduction

Let me begin with a gentle invitation: imagine the air you breathe is not just oxygen and nitrogen, but also the swirling currents of ideas, stories, and standards that shape what you find admirable or contemptible. This is the ethical climate—an invisible environment as real and powerful as the physical one, quietly shaping your sense of right and wrong, pride and shame, justice and injustice. We are all, whether we notice or not, creatures of the moral air around us.

Think of how, in different eras, the central concern of philosophers and ordinary people alike has shifted. Once, the 'state of the soul'—justice, harmony, obedience—was the heart of ethical life. Today, we’re more likely to talk about rights, freedoms, and entitlements. Our standards have evolved, and so too have our expectations of ourselves and others. The climate has changed, and we have changed with it.

But the workings of this climate can be strangely invisible. Imagine a society where, like a physicist’s horseshoe on the wall, certain moral beliefs are just 'there,' operating whether or not anyone consciously believes in them. The ethical climate is not always moralistic; sometimes, it is even hostile to moralizing. We want to enjoy our lives with a good conscience, and those who disturb our equilibrium—raising uncomfortable questions about exploitation, injustice, or suffering—are often unwelcome guests at the feast.

This climate is not just the preserve of philosophers. Artists, novelists, and even cartoonists shape and reflect our moral weather. Sometimes, a single image or story can shift the climate more than a thousand philosophical treatises. And yet, even as we reflect on these influences, we remain within the climate they create. Our sense of self, our stories of value, are woven from the threads of the world’s expectations.

We must remember, too, that individuals can insulate themselves from a poor moral environment—just as some profit from a polluted physical one. Some flourish by depriving others, telling themselves stories to justify their place and their comforts. An ethic gone wrong is an essential preliminary to the sweatshop, the concentration camp, and the death march.

So, as we begin this journey through the landscape of ethics, let us be sensitive to the climate we inhabit. Let us notice the stories we tell ourselves, the standards we inherit, and the ways we justify our actions. For in understanding the ethical climate, we take the first step toward living consciously and well.

Now, let’s turn to the storms that can threaten this climate—the doubts and challenges that sometimes make us question whether ethics is even possible at all.