If you’re like me, you’ve participated in dozens if not hundreds of
bull-sessions, electronic or otherwise, on the topic of “What constitutes
good literature?” The presence of the book in the “Literary Fiction”
section is no clear guide; the “Literary Fiction” section is mostly
filled with pretentious tripe. The popularity of the book is no clear
guide; people will read the most appalling trash in large quantities.
And the book I revere might well revulse you. It can be tempting to cut the
Gordian knot of aesthetics by claiming that aesthetic values are merely
subjective. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” you might cry.

And yet, that’s not a particularly satisfying answer. It’s clear to me–in
fact, it’s clear to everyone–that some books are better than others. I
might not be able to say precisely why in every case, and yet the fact
remains. Some books are better than others.

Part of the problem, of course, is that there is no single measure of
literary value–there are dozens of axes on which a work can be said to
succeed or fail. Literary value is complicated–as complicated as people
are complicated–and to say that literary value is merely subjective
isn’t a solution, it’s an abdication.

A similar muddle exists in the realm of moral value. The modern relativist
says, “Act A is forbidden in culture B, but compulsory in culture C;
therefore the immorality of act A is culturally-defined rather than
absolute.” Reduced to simplest form, this statement generally turns out
to mean “It’s not wrong when the So-and-so’s do it, and therefore it’s not
wrong if I do it, no matter what Mrs. Grundy says.”

And indeed, faced with the varied customs and ethos of the cultures of
the world, it’s easy to cut the Gordian knot of moral value by taking up
a relativist position–especially if we’re looking for reasons why it
isn’t sinful to sin.

And that brings me to Lewis’ book The Abolition of Man, which
is outstanding and which I highly recommend. Lewis begins with a
discussion of a schoolbook whose authors appear to espouse the notion
that aesthetic and moral values are subjective. He points out that such
people don’t usually hold that all value is subjective–just the ones
they want to belittle. Their own values, of course, are objectively
good, as they will hasten to prove from first principles.

Except that they can’t. You can’t prove that a value is objectively good
except in terms of another value. Consider the following dialog:

A: We must feed the poor!

B: Why?

A: Because if we don’t do something, many of the poor will starve.

B: Oh. That’s bad, is it?

A: Of course it’s bad. If they starve, they will die.

B: Oh. But won’t that leave more food for the rest of the poor?

A: You don’t get it. If we don’t do something, people will die. Some of
them will be children!

B: And it’s bad for children to starve?

A: Well, naturally!

B: Why?

Speaker A has a number of options here. He might conclude that B is
yanking his chain and tell B to go to hell; he might (if he’s unwise) try
to argue the point further–for no matter what value A invokes, B can
simply say, “Oh, that’s good, is it? Why?”

A’s best answer is simply that it’s wrong to allow children to die of
starvation if we can prevent it. Allowing them to starve is objectively,
self-evidently, axiomatically wrong.

According to Lewis (and I have no reason to doubt him), the word “reason”
has been redefined in the last hundred or hundred-and-fifty years. For
the ancients and medievals alike, “reason” included not only logical
thinking but also what we call common sense–and that, in turn, included
the recognition that the value of bravery, charity, and other virtues are
self-evident. Some things simply don’t need to be proved.

This, of course, gets us back to our moral muddle. If moral values are
self-evident, then why don’t all cultures agree on them?

The astonishing fact is that for the most part they do, as Lewis amply
illustrates in the Appendix to his book. Every culture in the world
shares in what Lewis calls, for lack of a better word, the Tao. Taken
as a whole, the agreement is remarkable. And taken as as a whole
it becomes clear that the exceptions, so far from proving that value is
relative, are simply culture-specific kinks, the besetting sins of each
nation.

Moreover, although the Tao is the common heritage of all mankind it still
needs to be taught; even Aristotle recognized that if virtue is not
taught to a child, the child will never recognize virtue as an adult.

Thus, it’s more true to say that there’s no accounting for taste than
that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. For what is bad taste but
attributing value to objects which don’t deserve it? And what is virtue
but attributing value to actions which do deserve it (and acting
accordingly)?