Thought I'm Wrestling With: Do We All Have the Same Moral Code?
Wrestling with conscience, success, and whether morality is truly universal.
“God is well aware of what a wretched machine you are trying to drive, and asks only that you keep on doing the best you can. Christianity…is humane, but not easy. It asks us to recognize that the great religious struggle is not fought on a spectacular battleground, but within the ordinary human heart, when every morning we wake up and feel the pressures of the day crowding in on us, and we must decide what sort of immortals we wish to be.” – C.S. Lewis
Mere Christianity, by C.S. Lewis, is one of my all-time favorite books. It’s a great encapsulation of human reflection, questioning, and longing that I’ve struggled to find in other literature. I may be biased because I agree with many of Lewis’s arguments in favor of a Christian worldview, but anyone with curiosity will appreciate the tussle that is human existence throughout the book.
As a foundational claim, Lewis outlines his views on “The Laws of Human Nature and the Moral Law”—the phenomena of morals and righteous behavior among mankind. He recognizes that civilizations around the world have various guardrails and standards for right and wrong, but by and large, humans tend to have this innate understanding of what one ‘ought to do’ and an eye for fairness.
These ‘Laws’ govern our behavior and interpretation of others’ actions as we navigate life.
“You might compare two different types of moralities and say the Nazi morality is worse than some other one. But the statement points to the fact that you believe there is some standard morality from which you base that judgment.” – C.S. Lewis
Yet, even while agreeing with Lewis, I've started to wonder: do we truly share one universal moral compass, or are there deeper variations than we acknowledge?
Jordan Peterson explains in one of his lectures that the most compelling evidence for God isn’t external miracles or cosmological arguments—but the “argument by conscience.” He sees our conscience—our inner voice asking, “Is this right?” or “Am I doing the right thing?”—as God speaking to us directly, aligning us with the deeper structure of reality.
Regardless of your religious or spiritual beliefs, having the humility to sit with your thoughts and question where you can be a better person activates the inner voice of God—your conscience. And we all invariably know the parts of our lives that could use improvement.
In another lecture, Peterson posits that there is no true success without moral success. If you excel in business, school, or sports, but employ nefarious methods, your conscience keeps the real score—a score you'll never outrun, no matter how outwardly successful you appear.
Matthew McConaughey, in his recent Lyrics of Living newsletter, had wonderful insights on selfishness. Society typically attaches a negative connotation to selfishness, but McConaughey argues that true selfishness—as it pertains to self-service—means serving ourselves without neglecting our neighbors. Such behavior provides long-term ROI to both neighbors and the individual performing the ‘selfish’ act.
“If I lie, cheat, and steal to get what I want or avoid inconvenience today, am I truly being selfish? It may look like it in the short run, but in the long run? I don’t think so. Think of the stress I’d cause myself for the rest of my life every time I walk out the door, go to a function, or hear my doorbell ring—all the burned bridges, all the people I screwed over, the anxiety I’d endure would make my life feel like a prison. Fundamentally, there’s NOTHING selfish about that.” – Matthew McConaughey
For many years, I believed my conscience kept score. If I did something selfish that hurt others or felt morally inferior, I’d regret it deeply. Naturally, when I read Lewis, listened to Peterson, and reflected on McConaughey’s insights, they all reinforced this perspective.
However, I've grown curious about individuals who seemingly don't possess a conscience in the way we typically assume humans do. Could it be these individuals, intellects, and philosophers make assumptions due to their own conscientiousness—their discipline, responsibility, and reliability—that lead them to assume everyone naturally shares their sense of conscience? Perhaps this introduces a subtle bias.
Conscientiousness—the trait associated with orderliness, responsibility, and discipline—can easily be confused with moral conscience, though they aren’t identical. Someone can be highly conscientious but still have a distorted or unconventional moral framework.
Consider this morally ambiguous scenario:
You've been working two jobs, desperately saving money so your child can attend college and live a better life. Unexpectedly, you receive an insider trading tip linked to your work that would enable you to pay your child's tuition within a year.
You rationalize: “It’s a capitalist economy. Chances of the IRS or SEC catching me are slim. And if high-powered figures in politics and finance routinely skirt the system, why shouldn’t an average joe like me capitalize on this opportunity?”
If you adopt Peterson’s perspective, every dime earned would become a thorn of torment, reminding you of your moral deviation. Each joyful college call from your child would stir guilt, knowing their opportunity arose from an illegal act.
Yet, I can also envision someone genuinely proud of their decision, joyfully FaceTiming their child each weekend without guilt. Their conscience doesn’t perceive that insider trading as burdensome at all.
An even more extreme and troubling example—one I’ve struggled to understand—is terrorism. Some terrorists use their own families as human shields or celebrate mass violence. These actions aren't mere deviations—they’re inversions of universally human instincts to protect family and community. Are these individuals genuinely devoid of conscience, or do they operate within a radically different moral framework, one we struggle even to comprehend?
Douglas Murray, in a conversation with Lex Fridman, shared how a friend who grew up in pre-revolutionary Iran once explained that it’s especially hard for Westerners—particularly Americans—to truly grasp ideological or religious fanaticism. The ‘death cult’ mindset that some of these individuals have, and the lasting ramifications that unfold when such individuals come to power
I’m probably a victim of that negligence mindset/lack of awareness since I’ve never truly studied or visited the middle east.
Thousands of such individuals walk the earth with these starkly different moral compasses. While they may or may not fit a psychological diagnosis like psychopathy or narcissism, they certainly don't align with the moral codes most of humanity accepts. At least according to the moral framework many of us in the West subscribe to.
As someone fascinated by human behavior and incentive structures, this moral dilemma leaves me scratching my head. It would be comforting to claim that since the majority do X, behavior Y must be wrong. But perhaps I simply lack the innate conscience these individuals possess, which perceives Y as perfectly acceptable or even preferable.
I don't pretend to have easy answers. Perhaps that’s the point of wrestling—it’s an ongoing dialogue rather than a solved puzzle. I'm genuinely curious about your perspective: Do you think morality is truly universal, or is it shaped more deeply by personal conscience than we commonly admit? Since humans are irrational, what are the outward bounds of irrationalities that are tolerable?