Here I’m continuing my occasional series of philosophical posts. You can go click on “Deep Thoughts” over on the right, there, to see the recent ones.

When we use the words “good” and “bad”, there are two senses in which we can use them. A thing can be “good” in an absolute sense, or in a relative sense.

Consider a three-legged dog that can’t wag its tail, can’t bark, and hates people. We’ll call him “Fred”. In an absolute sense, Fred isn’t a much of a dog, because he lacks the perfections that dogs are supposed to have. A proper dog should have four legs, a waggy tail, should bark at cats and other intruders, and should be man’s best friend. Fred fails on all of these counts. The fact that he has dog breath doesn’t make up for his other lacks. We could call him a “bad” dog, because he’s a lousy example of the species.

But of course, that’s not usually what we mean when we call a dog a “bad” dog. Consider another dog, whom we will call “George”. George bites, he doesn’t come when he’s called, he piddles on the floor, he makes messes behind the sofa, and he stills steaks from the kitchen counter. He’s a Bad Dog. George is also a fine figure of a dog: he has a gorgeous coat, he’s usually glad to see you, his tale wags, and he barks at cats. He’s a “good” dog in absolute terms, but he’s still a Bad Dog—because he doesn’t meet the requirements that I have for a dog. He’s a Bad Dog relative to me and my wants.

Keep this distinction in mind; we’ll make use of it later.