Several years ago someone on the internet — either accidentally or purposefully — introduced me to a work by Frank Ochmann called Die gefühlte Moral: Warum wir Gut und Böse unterscheiden können.1 In the dedication to his book he cited from Goethe with the following:
Um Gut’s zu tun, braucht’s keiner Überlegung.
“It requires no thought to do good”
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. 1787. Iphigenie auf Tauris.
I never finished Ochmann’s book, because he quite convinced me of its message before I completed it, and because he declined my offer to translate it for him into English. In any case, his message is well summarized in the citation. On the one hand, our morality is learned before we learn to conceptualize it. We learn it through observation and interaction with others — primarily our parents and siblings in the family at a very young age. In fact, if we do not learn it by a certain age; it is unlikely that we will ever master it without much pain. On the other hand, the same naturally acquired moral code can be easily perverted through a changed set of circumstances in which the code is selectively applied between the in-group to which one belongs and the out-group that one exploits. My take away from the book was that the individual depends largely on others for his moral guidance, that this dependence is reciprocal in nature, that even dominant personalities seek the approval of those whom they dominate, and that each of us should be wary of the group or groups to which he adheres.
With this message in place I will now take off on my own, as I have been doing for pretty much most of my life with modest success, if the standard against which my success is measured is survival alone in the turbulent sea of modern humanity. My allegiance is to my friends, humanity, and those who are open to discussion about the nature of human existence, and more recently my native homeland and the future of America.
Humanity is an amazingly large group to which a person might wish to adhere, but it is the one to which I have dedicated nearly my entire life.
It likely started when I found myself terribly alone despite numerous attempts to find a mate whom I felt had my best interest at heart. Maybe this was the wrong approach, or maybe it was the right approach, but I could just never figure out how to make it work. In any case, somewhere along the way, I decided that I would just marry humanity instead, for this would settle the matter of being alone. After all, there are always people with whom you can speak, and there are few of us who do not respond when someone shows an interest in who we are. In other words, if you show a genuine interest in others, they will show an interest in you, and you are no longer alone. Truly, it is a very simple formula. You just have to be unafraid that your feelings could be hurt or that you might offend someone, even though it was not your intention. It is not a formula for introverts.
The cool thing about marrying humanity is the intellectual freedom and challenge that it offers, because in order to sustain the marriage, you must be open to all kinds of ideas that others might reject out of hand. What is more, you are always looking for those ideas that once made manifest are most likely to hold the human family together. Then too, you must be careful, because no one lives in a social vacuum, and you must adapt to those around you with social allegiances that do not place humanity at the pinnacle of anyone’s concern. It is in this context that you begin to understand the importance of family, friendship, community, private enterprise, government, political parties, sports, culture, language, nation, and the whole host of activities in which we humans engage in order to sustain ourselves each during his own lifetime.
Marrying humanity forces you to be a moral individual like no other, because it demands that you view the world from so many perspectives all at once while contributing to the marriage in some concrete material way. I was once invited to speak to a group of students in search of a professional career, and I provided them with the following guidance. Find a star — a goal that you can never reach, but would help all of humankind, if obtained. Then consider yourself, where you are in the moment, and what is the highest peak that you think you could climb that would bring you closest to your star. Then, find the nearest hill that you believe will bring you just a little closer to the peak and start climbing. Striving is important, and with the proper star; it is unlikely that you can go astray. Important is that you reach the summit of each hill that you decide to climb, and only abandon your climb when you realize: one, that it is not bringing you closer to your peak; or two, that there is a different summit that will bring you closer with less effort or greater reward during the climb. Indeed, you must be able to enjoy the way up. For example, you must know when to rest, teach yourself to set a pace and keep it, and always explore the terrain as you climb. Exploring the terrain is important because many trails lead to no where, and you must always be able to find your way back should choose the wrong path. Also leave markers for others to follow as you advance upward, for once you have reached your peak, you will want others by your side to share in your success. After all, marrying humanity is about being human, and being human is about being with other human beings.
In liberty,
Roddy A. Stegemann, First Hill, Seattle 98104
Author of Mount Cambitas - The Story of Real Money, “A Call for the Restoration of Monetary Order” (Parts I and II), the Substack series “Let’s End the Money Racket”.
Frank Ochmann. 2008. Die gefühlte Moral: Warum wir Gut und Böse unterscheiden können. Berlin: Ullstein Buchverlag GmbH. Translation: Naturally Acquired Morality: Our ability to decide between good and evil.