Both the formal and the material aspects of authoritarian ethics are apparent in the development of the ethical judgment in the child. The roots of our ability to differentiate between good and evil are put down in childhood; first with regard to physical functions and then with regard to more complex matters of behavior.
On its journey, the child acquires a sense of distinguishing between good and bad before the child learns the difference by reasoning. The child’s value judgments are, as we know, formed as a result of the friendly and unfriendly reactions of the significant people in his/her life. Because the child is dependent on the care and love of one or more adults, it is not surprising that an approving or disapproving expression on a parent’s face is sufficient to ‘teach’ the child the difference between good and bad [I remember well the ‘look’ that my mother and father would give, for example; no words were necessary].
In school, as we all well know, similar factors operate. ‘Good’ is that for which one is praised; ‘bad,’ that for which one is disciplined/punished by teachers. Indeed, for the child, the fear of disapproval and the need for approval appear to be two of the most powerful motivations for ethical judgment. At this time in the child’s life there is intense emotional pressure to ‘being good’ and to avoid ‘being bad.’ This pressure prevents the child from asking critically whether ‘good’ in a judgment means ‘good’ for the child or for the authority [a child can get ‘stuck’ here and so even as an adult the individual will not question the authority in this way].
For most of us a ‘thing’ is called ‘good’ if it is good for the person who uses it. With regards to humans, the same criterion of value can be used. For example, the employer considers an employee to be good if he is of advantage to him/her. Or, the teacher may well call a student ‘good’ if the student is obedient [does not cause trouble] and is a good reflection upon the teacher. I remember being called ‘good’ as a child because I was docile and obedient. At times, I was, as the ‘good’ child, quite fearful and insecure and countered these powerful feelings by seeking many ways to please my parents and teachers. I remember a childhood friend who was considered to be ‘bad’ because he had a will of his own — which he exercised and which upset his parents and teachers to no end.
The formal and material aspects of authoritarian ethics are joined at the hip. Because his/her own interests are at stake the authority ordains obedience to be the main virtue and disobedience to be the main vice; obedience is good and disobedience is evil; for some faith-based authority figures, ‘sin’ is disobedience — the unforgivable sin is ‘rebellion’. Rebellion entails the questioning of the authority’s right to establish norms and of its belief that the norms established by the authority are in the best interest of its ‘subjects’ [thus, parents experience in the healthy adolescent a rebellion that challenges their authority]. The authority can be ‘forgiving’ if the ‘sinner’ repents and accepts his/her punishment and commits to once again ‘being good’ — in essence the ‘sinner’ thus expresses his/her acceptance of the authority’s superiority.
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