Yep, we need nerve endings to make sense of morality, but why did humans, unnecessarily, it would seem, develop moral imperatives rather than just conditional or pragmatic ones which would suffice for the protection of nerve endings?
Those are indeed real questions. Guilt is a real human experience, as is remorse. I find a “moral response” something that is very difficult to put into words – it is part intellectual, part emotional (and strong emotion, at that). There is a definite “moral sense” and it can be passionate, as indignation can be passionate. When it is directed towards others, it can have a passionate sense of blame and chastisement, or even the desire to punish (righteous indignation).
Freud tried to explain its origin, not necessarily convincingly. He did believe in the “superego” (conscience). He believed that the superego was internalized authority (we can “hear” sounds in our mind – a favorite song, for example-- and “see” images in our mind – “our mind’s eye”-- so internalizing a sense of authority is not so far-fetched). He also seemed to believe that shame – which is related, on a cruder level, to moral responses – was organic. I may be mistaken in my recollection, but I believe Freud posited that it “all started” when humans began to walk upright. For the first time, the sense of smell fell into disuse and atrophied, as it were (scent, for example, plays a much smaller role in sexual arousal than it once did, and as it still does in dogs). Freud’s theory was that, once humans began walking upright and relying less on their sense of smell, they suddenly become alienated from the odors emanating from
own bodies (dogs, with a much keener sense of smell than humans, don’t seem to have that experience). We felt disgust and shame at the odors of our own unwashed bodies. They disgusted us. To a certain extent, sex disgusted us (or, at least, aroused an ambivalent response in us)-- as did all our bodily functions, period.
As for something like murder, it was chastised so severely that it would be like a Pavlovian reaction. A person who was beaten severely, if they were discovered engaging in some sexual misconduct as a child, might have a similar internalized reaction. I’ve never been a dog-owner, but I’ve often thought I can see the appearances of “guilt” or even “remorse” in the faces of dogs. Part of that look is the fear – and anticipation – of punishment, and part of it is shame. The dog looks as if it
knows it has done something wrong, and gives – indeed – a kind of penitent “hang-dog” look.
The relationship between disgust and morality is another interesting question. We are constantly saying that certain actions “make us sick.” This appeal to disgust has been used – or misused – by those who express a visceral distaste towards homosexuality, as if their distaste proved its immorality.
But this remain a valid question. When the majority of people think in terms of right and wrong, they experience something like a white heat in which intellectual and emotion are fused. It is, elusively, somehow neither one, nor the other. And they feel guilt, and shame, when they themselves transgress that morality; disgust, or indignation, or contempt, when it is transgressed by others.
Morality also has a downside, in this same respect. It can stir up fear and negative emotions – as it did, to use a relatively uncontroversial example, in Martin Luther. I get the sense that, when a Buddhist understands Hitler, they don’t understand his behavior in terms of evil, but “ignorance” (“forgive them, for they know not what they do”). There is a calmness there, whereas moral reactions are often emotionally “knee-jerk.” An outraged sense of morality can take great offense and see red. At worst, it can even cause one to kill. When there is an outraged sense of morality,
ad hominem attacks – and words of strong censure, almost with fear and loathing – can also follow.
I’m not maintaining that I have the answers to these questions, just acknowledging that – if morality did originate as a survival tool for our species – that it was never purely rational or pragmatic in tone (if there was a “reason” behind it, it was largely a reason in “nature” – i.e., not entirely conscious, just as the development of language–and its grammar–is not entirely conscious). It was also, for want of a better word (though this doesn’t fully do justice to it), emotional or even instinctive in character.
And, finally,
perceptual in character. Moral conviction does, indeed, seem to believe in its moral values as in an
objective reality, but this can be a double-edged sword; for example, the indignation of the Jew when he saw a fellow Jew fraternizing with a Samaritan, would have been perceived by him as moral indignation pointing to an objective reality.