One possible outcome of such psychological oppression is self-
commodification—the packaging and selling of oneself—as a means of becoming acceptable to those in power. When we do this we are no longer alienated from just the larger community; we become alienated from ourselves because we no longer behave according to what we are and what we want, but what society wants us to be. We see this in the Plain-Belly Sneetches’ eagerness to alter their bodies to gain access to social privilege. Sylvester McMonkey McBean preys upon their feelings of inferiority and convinces them that by buying stars and altering their bodies they can buy the status they crave. They discover, however, that such self-commodification rarely works, since those in power will simply change the rules so they can keep their status. In turning to self-commodification, the Plain-Belly Sneetches embrace stereotypes and behaviors that undermine actual equality and empowerment. Only when those in power lose their status (by losing their money) are the Sneetches able to create a just society.
We see all these problems and more in Daisy-Head Mayzie. In this story, Seuss presents the typical ways in which people respond to the Other: horror (the teacher, who snatches up the little girl and rushes her from the classroom), problematizing (the principal, who decides Mayzie is a problem to be fixed), “scientific” objectification (the scientist, who forgets Mayzie’s humanity as he reduces her to a mere object of study), persecution (the mayor, who wants her driven out of town), normalization (the florist, who wants to prune her back to the norm), and commodification (the agent, who sees her simply as a means of making money). No one asks young Mayzie what she wants, and in response to her new status as Other, Mayzie herself exhibits the very behaviors philosophers concerned with diversity describe: alienation, depression, and self-commodification.
Hearing the Other:
A Person’s a Person, No Matter How Small
But there are other possible responses to encountering the Other. Horton the elephant, despite his own size and power, hears the plight of the Whos and recognizes that “a person’s a person, no matter how small” (Horton). He decides that these “little folks [h]ave as much right to live” (Horton) as anyone else, and he devotes himself to saving the Whos from the best efforts of all those around him. In standing firm against the animals of Nool, Horton exhibits the true generosity that is so rare among those not subject themselves to discrimination and persecution.
Of course, just as society shuns the Other, it also tends to turn on those who stand with the disenfranchised. The animals of Nool quickly decide that Horton is “out of his head” and must be stopped from his “irrational” behavior of protecting the dust speck that serves as home to the Whos. They move to rope and cage Horton, and it’s only the unification of Who voices that allows them to be heard. Horton, despite his size and power, cannot save himself or the Whos once he becomes their ally, not until the people of Nool are forced to hear and acknowledge the Whos. Once the Whos unite their voices, they exhibit the “power that springs from the weakness of the oppressed.”10 They are powerful because they know what is at stake, which enables them to put all their energy into their fight for justice. In doing so, they fight not just for their ideals but their very survival. It’s this power that is “sufficiently strong to free both” the Whos and Horton, as well as releasing the people of Nool from their own arrogant assumptions.11
The Lorax provides another example of someone who speaks for those unable to speak for themselves or be heard.12 When the Once-ler first starts cutting down Truffula Trees, he sends shockwaves throughout the entire area with his biggering and biggering. The Lorax, who speaks for the trees and for all those creatures interconnected with them, shouts out his warning until the last Truffula Tree falls, long after the Brown Bar-ba-loots, Swomee-Swans, and Humming-Fish have migrated in search of healthier climes. It’s the Lorax who understands with Martin Luther King Jr. that “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.”13 When the Once-ler takes the Truffula Trees, the damage stretches far beyond the individual plants. Like the Once-ler, we too often segment the world and ignore the network of mutuality in which we exist. When one portion of our community suffers, the damage runs deeper and broader than it first appears. For instance, as poverty levels rise, so do crime and disease rates. Educational levels fall, exacerbating the problem even further. The social and economic ramifications spread into the larger community, and, in most cases, the process rolls on. Too late, the Once-ler realizes that “UNLESS someone like you / cares a whole awful lot, / nothing is going to get better. / It’s not” (Lorax). Seuss, like King, knows that “[i]njustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere,”14 and Seuss’s stories show a belief that we can act with an eye toward justice and build a better world.
You Do Not Like Them. So You Say.
Try Them! Try Them! And You May (Eggs)
It’s easy to fall into the trap of normative hubris because most of us don’t really pay attention to the people around us or even to ourselves. We don’t slow down and think about the stereotypes that we believe or pay attention to the implications of our own words and actions. We don’t learn about those people that we consider the Other. Most of us don’t want to know about the violence and discrimination in our local communities, so the victims become almost invisible—about as difficult to spot as the Whos down in Who-ville. We assume that our way is the best way because we don’t really know of any other way. Honestly, for most of us, we don’t know our way very well either. We just do what we’ve always done, which is to conform to the status quo, or the way things already are. Philosophy focused upon diversity makes us slow down and pay attention to these elements that we so often ignore. In doing so, it attempts to replace hubris with a humility that recognizes that all of us, as individuals and as communities, have something unique to offer, that there are times when we all fall short of our ideals but that we can do better if we’re willing to try.
Another way in which the philosophy of diversity undermines normative hubris is by emphasizing the fact that American society has been multicultural from the beginning. Because of this, understanding ourselves as Americans means examining the ways in which various groups have come together and contributed to the building of this country. We’re a country of many types of people, people with different political and religious views, different cultural identities and races, sexual orientations and social classes, educational levels and favorite sports teams. Given our differences, it becomes ever more difficult to support the belief that there is one way that is THE WAY for everyone.
Besides highlighting privileges, discrimination, and minority contributions, the philosophy of diversity often examines our ideals and how we have both lived up to and have unfortunately fallen short of them. Our Declaration of Independence sets forth the basic creed of our country: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” And the plaque upon the Statue of Liberty captures our recognition of ourselves as primarily a nation of immigrants: “Give me your tired, your poor, / Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, / The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. / Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, / I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”15 Our national ideals call upon us to live lives devoted to equality and openness, yet we often fall short of this calling. When we examine our heritage—our ideals, our successes and our failures, and the diversity from which we spring—we see more clearly and are hopefully better able to avoid the normative hubris and totalizing tendencies that undermine the very values upon which this country was founded. Then we can start building a community that recognizes and respects us all, Horton and Wickersham, kangaroo and Whos.
Stewing a Who, or Isn’t It All Relative?
Many people claim that respecting diversity makes it impossible to make moral claims, especially across cultural lin
es. After all, if we want to avoid normative hubris and totalizing tendencies, who are we to say that someone else’s practices are wrong? Some of us are vegetarians while others are omnivores. In Star-Belly circles, it seems obvious that the Plain-Belly Sneetches are inferior, and Horton wants to protect the Whos, even when all of his neighbors think he is insane. If we are supposed to respect diversity, what’s wrong with Sneetch culture uplifting the Star-Bellies or with the people of Nool stewing the Who?
Two types of relativism are relevant here. Descriptive relativism simply notes that different cultures have different practices. Some cultures strive to achieve gender equality, while others explicitly state that women are subordinate to men, for instance. But normative (or moral) relativism goes further by claiming that cultural norms are culture specific and cannot be adequately judged outside of that particular milieu. However, does a respect for diversity mean that we must accept moral relativism? Even if my basic understanding of myself is that “I am what I am,” does this mean that whatever I think is good is in fact good for me or that I don’t have a responsibility to be better than I am? Seuss doesn’t think so. For instance, despite Jo-Jo’s preference for yo-yoing, he must set aside his toys and work to save his community when it is endangered, and Mayzie, that fun-loving fowl, loses all claim to her child when she abandons her egg in favor of sun and surf. We exist in a world that requires moral decision making, and the philosophy of diversity must address this need while trying to avoid normative hubris.
Two approaches seem to allow for moral decision making while respecting diversity. The first is captured by the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which states that “[a]ll human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood.”16 Because all humans have inherent rights, we can stop practices that undermine those rights. While this work expresses a respect for cultural differences, it also allows us to make moral judgments against those practices that undermine individual rights without necessarily falling prey to normative hubris. For instance, ending slavery did not destroy Southern culture, but it set in motion changes to better ensure that everyone’s rights were valued. Southerners still drink iced tea and have biscuits and gravy for breakfast. Pickup trucks and cowboy boots aren’t going anywhere. But now a group of people who had no recourse can demand that their rights be respected, just as the Who now have a voice among the citizens of Nool.
A second approach appears in John Dewey’s discussions of morality and growth. Dewey (1859–1952), an American Pragmatist, rejects the idea that rights are unalienable, arguing that the rights of humanity have instead resulted from social development as individuals have become dissatisfied with tyranny and have struggled against it. By viewing rights as inherent, we can easily lose sight of our need to continually work toward ideals of social justice. According to Dewey, this work must center upon our daily activities, for he defines democracy as “a personal way of individual life.”17 In Dewey’s day, as well as our own, people claim to believe in democracy while living lives out of step with democratic ideals, and oftentimes in ways that undermine democratic values: “Intolerance, abuse, calling of names because of differences of opinion about religion or politics or business, as well as because of differences of race, color, wealth or degree of culture are treason to the democratic way of life.”18 Each of these activities divides communities and undermines civility, critical inquiry, and communication, all of which are necessary components of democracy. If we want healthy communities, we must work to ensure that the individuals within them can thrive. For Dewey, those activities that undermine individual and community flourishing should either be discarded or reconstructed, and those people who perform such activities should be found blameworthy.
Because we are tied together, the consequences of our ethical choices extend into the larger community. Some place more value on the environment, while others value economic growth, and regardless of our policies, all are influenced. Becoming aware of and respecting diversity does not mean that we can dismiss ethical considerations as simply being a matter of opinion. As Anthony Weston points out, “Even if moral values vary all over the map, there is no way out of some good hard thinking.”19 The philosophy of diversity and the works of Dr. Seuss call into question the normative hubris and totalizing tendencies so often present when we avoid this thinking, and in doing so they promote values of equality and openness to other ways of living without falling into relativism. Dr. Seuss’s works continually remind us of the richness of human experience. As he reminds us in the voice of Marco, “This [world] might be bigger / Than you or I know!” (Pool).
CHAPTER NINE
What Would You Do If Your
Mother Asked You? A Brief Introduction to Ethics
Jacob M. Held and Eric N. Wilson
Many of Dr. Seuss’s stories illustrate aspects of our moral lives. It’s not hard to see the moral messages reflected through the Sneetches, Horton the elephant, the Lorax, and many others. These works, as overtly ethical yet accessible to even the youngest readers, help illuminate various aspects of philosophical ethics. And the connections among many of Seuss’s stories and classical ethical theories are illuminating insofar as they help readers of all ages make sense of often difficult or seemingly impenetrable moral quandaries.
Philosophical ethics itself is the study of right and wrong. It’s our attempt to answer the question “What should I do?” There are innumerable answers to this question. For those familiar with ethics, it often seems as if there are as many ethical theories as there are ethical theorists. There are so many theories, in fact, that it can appear at times that there is no one answer that will suit all people or that could possibly be the best among so many choices. In what follows we are only going to look at a few. We’ll look at the deontology of Immanuel Kant, John Stuart Mill’s utilitarianism, and the virtue ethics of Aristotle. But even this diversity may raise an eyebrow or two. After all, if powerhouses like Kant, Mill, and Aristotle each have their own theory, how are we supposed to decide among them? These are supposed to be the best and brightest in the philosophical canon and they can’t agree, so how are we supposed to solve the problem? What hope is there for us?
This kind of doubt and skepticism that there is a right or wrong is often given voice in our lives when we hear someone ask “Who’s to say?” or “Who gave you the right to judge?” These types of questions evince the attitude that there is no right or wrong, it’s all just personal. This is an easy attitude to fall into; it’s all relative.
Does It Matter on What Side I Butter My Bread?
In ethics, there has been a commitment to discovering and defining “the good.” The good, for a philosopher, is synonymous with defining a fundamental set of rules or principles that equally apply to all people. Discerning right and wrong for the philosopher depends on determining the underlying structure of morality and bringing it out in the open. Thus, a defining feature of ethics is the discovery of those characteristics of the moral life that are representative of and applicable to humanity as a whole. However, some have claimed that such a task is by its very nature limited or even doomed to failure. Their reasoning often depends on the fact that at some point when two cultures or two people (or two Zax) whose core beliefs are fundamentally different meet there is an intractable disagreement about those core beliefs and values. Because both parties seem to be fundamentally at odds with each other and neither is in a place of authority, there is no way to decide between the two, thus, we are forced to admit that both sets of beliefs or values are equally valuable (neither the northgoing nor southgoing school being the “right” school to attend) and our only recourse short of forcing our view on the other is tolerance and respect (or even standing still). Variations among peoples and differences between cultures and countries lend evidence to such negative approaches. And history bears witness to the problem of asserting via force that our view is best, as any na
tive people can attest. The theoretical approach to ethics that maintains that there is no answer to what is right or wrong that applies equally to all people is known as relativism. And there are two principle types of relativism: cultural and normative.
Cultural relativism, as its name suggests, claims that morality is limited to the scope of a specific culture. Central to the idea is the claim that an individual’s beliefs can only be understood or evaluated in relation to their culture and that each culture is its own source of legitimate ethical claims. No one culture is better than any other, so no culture needs to justify itself to some universal moral code. In fact, the very existence of such a code is argued not to exist. Consider the example in The Butter Battle Book.
The Yooks and Zooks have a long-standing divergence of opinion, to put it lightly. They disagree on which cultural practice is superior. Each side sees their practice as morally superior and the other’s as morally bankrupt. As the grandfather iterates, “It’s high time that you knew of the terribly horrible thing that Zooks do. In every Zook house and in every Zook town every Zook eats his bread with the butter side down! . . . we Yooks, as you know, when we breakfast or sup, spread our bread . . . with the butter side up. That’s the right, honest way!” (Butter). So he concludes, “You can’t trust a Zook who spreads bread underneath! Every Zook must be watched! He has kinks in his soul!” (Butter). This disagreement about a seemingly innocuous cultural practice leads ultimately to a stalemated nuclear arms race, with each side poised to annihilate the other.
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