Every person has a cause. The activist seeks social justice. The pious person seeks religious salvation. The patriotic person is devoted to nationhood. The football supporter is committed to their team.
The cause is our passion. We see the world through its lens. We are offended when it is disrespected and distressed when it falters. We celebrate every achievement and milestone. In this way, the cause is more than an enthusiastic or congenial pastime. We are not motivated just by our own pleasure: we are motivated by a question of principle.
In some cases, the nature of that principle is self-evident. Social justice activism reflects a fundamental commitment to fairness. Religious worship reflects a fundamental commitment to faith. But the principle is sometimes elusive: the football fan would not claim any lofty objective, they are simply supporting their team. Nor do they seem to have any substantial reason for that position. While the supporter habitually asserts the superiority of their team, allegiance is not conditional on performance or merit. They would support the team anyway.
This brings us closer to the real meaning of the cause: the supporter is following a sense of tribal loyalty. That instinct can be expressed in multiple ways, such as fealty to family, to country, to an institution and so on. We often attempt to justify such a cause by reference to more sophisticated principle, arguing that the person or institution represents a certain virtuous canon of ideas. This may be true, but the justification is superfluous. The only principle that really matters is loyalty.
So each cause is a manifestation of an underlying moral principle. It performs an important moral function because the isolated principle is often vague and open to interpretation. We may believe in justice or fairness or loyalty, but what do these things actually mean? It is the cause which provides the necessary interpretation.
This interpretation is sometimes perverse. Devotion to our own faith might be understood to entail intolerance towards others. Loyalty to our own tribe might be understood to entail hostility towards those outside it. The cause is notoriously prone to populist exploitation, providing a common justification for war and persecution. Some of humanity’s great atrocities have been perpetrated in the name of a cause. Even a benign cause such as sport does not necessarily serve an overwhelming moral purpose. So we must be clear: while the cause is inspired by morality, it is not always moral itself.
When the cause strays from its moral purpose, we are inclined to conclude no person could sincerely support it. But common experience demonstrates otherwise. We may question the morality of religion, but we cannot deny the faith of the parishioner in the church. We may question the morality of nationalism, but we cannot deny the righteous intent of the young soldier who volunteers to ‘do their bit.’ We may lament the commercialisation of sport, but we cannot say the fan is there for commercial reasons. We can impugn the cause, but we cannot impugn the sincerity of those who follow it.
So everyone has a cause and everyone perceives a moral principle in that cause. That perception may be correct. It may be entirely deluded. Whatever the reason, there is something in our special cause which resonates with our moral instincts.
When we embrace a cause, we want to share it with others. We condemn the person who disrespects the cause and we want them to stop. This sharing is better known as virtue signalling, this condemnation is better known as cancel culture and it all comes from the basic pursuit of moral passion. It all comes from the cause.
This is the starting point for our analysis.
Isamu Drayya, October 2022
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isamu drayya 