Julie and Mark are sister and brother. They are traveling together in France on summer vacation from college. One night they are staying alone in a cabin near the beach. They decide that it would be interesting and fun if they tried making love. At the very least, it would be a new experience for each of them. Julie is already taking birth control pills, but Mark uses a condom too, just to be safe. They both enjoy making love, but decide not to do it again. They keep that night as a special secret, which makes them feel even closer to each other.
While this story may seem irrelevant and inappropriate, it actually illustrates an interesting point, especially when answering the question, "Do you think that it is acceptable for two consenting adults, who happen to be siblings, to make love?" If you are like most people in studies like the one above done by UVa. Associate Professor Jonathan Haidt, your answer is "no." What's intriguing is that you should have every reason to say "yes."
The two most prominent condemnations of incest are its social and biological consequences. Yet, we are explicitly informed that Julie and Mark are better friends for their experience and that no children could result from their actions. In spite of these circumstances, I bet that no matter how hard you try, you will never be comfortable with this story.
Don't worry; I feel the exact same way.
I've thought a lot about Mark and Julie, and the best explanation for why I disapprove is simply because it seems "icky." Properly explaining this feeling is hopeless, a phenomenon known in psychology as "moral dumbfounding."
The point of this column is not to explain why incest is a good thing (which-by the way-I don't think it is). The point is to show that despite what we may think or are taught here at Duke, what we view as right or wrong is a largely emotional decision. Through his research on various primates, Emory Professor Frans de Waal concludes that our behavior "derives above all from fast, automated emotional judgments and only secondarily from slower conscious processes."
In other words, we feel that something is wrong first and then make up reasons for why later. And even when these arguments are disproven, we still cling to our original judgments. More and more research is revealing that reason plays only a small role in what we deem is moral. In fact, psychologist Joshua Greene goes so far as to claim that moral intuitions are nothing more than "emotional responses."
What I'm trying to say here is that the results from Haidt's narrative about Julie and Mark are not only applicable to contrived, awkward stories about consensual incest. They can help us understand our everyday decisions as well.
I have a confession to make. I simply do not care about politics. Believe me; I've tried. I've tried really, really hard to feel a sense of concern about the people who represent me in Washington. But no matter what I do, I still feel utterly indifferent about the topic. I routinely watch my roommate-a political science and public policy double major-ardently dispute political issues with his friends in our apartment as I stare at the wall or flip through a magazine.
What I find most interesting is that I have never seen anyone persuaded to change opinions in these discussions. Everyone leaves feeling exactly the same way as they entered-only angrier. To me, these circular political debates are just more familiar examples of the incest story. For most people, no amount of reasonable argument will alter who they will vote for.
Our political beliefs are also emotionally driven moral impulses. Democrats and Republicans don't change sides because they can't change sides. Both are doing exactly what they view is right; it's simply the fact that, as Greene notes, "liberals and conservatives see the world in different moral colors." There is an instant, gut reaction to a candidate or party, and you support them to the bitter end, no matter how many lecture taserings or bathroom scandals transpire.
By now, all of this talk about the frivolous role of reason in morality might make our judgments seem pretty unpredictable or even pointless. Great. I hoped it would. Realizing that your moral opinions have some degree of randomness would do a lot of good. I agree with Greene when he argues that "our world suffers from moral overconfidence. We are likely to get along better if each of us recognizes that many of our moral practices and commitments are rather arbitrary."
Accepting this fact will only help us understand the choices we make. It will also keep my apartment a lot quieter.
Jordan Axt is a Trinity junior. His column runs every other Friday.
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