As a freshman in college, I took an ethics class. I was a political science major and I thought that it could be an important perspective to add to my suite of knowledge. I notice that an ethics class is not a requirement for that major now and probably wasn’t even back then. I suspect it could tend to be only a needless distraction to a person embarking on a political career.

I remember one of my political science profs defining the subject as the “science of control.” That was probably the most important fact to learn when starting out.

The ethics class involved the professor blowing up one balloon at a time and then popping it. Jeremy Bentham and John Stuart Mill were two of the names I remember. Their contribution to the field of ethics was to advance the philosophy of utilitarianism. “The greatest good for the greatest number” was the hallmark phrase from that theory.

What sounded like a good idea when first proposed, as the professor blew up the balloon, was exposed to have many shortcomings: would you throw a railway switch to kill only one worker, to prevent the deaths of five from a runaway train? Cue the sound of a popping balloon.

One of the other discoveries from that class was learning about the tension that exists between absolutism and relativism. As I look upon our current political schism, that tension seems particularly acute. Absolutists believe that moral laws exist, applicable to all, regardless of culture, circumstance, and history. They are universal and eternal. “Thou shalt not kill” would be an example.

Relativists are more likely to take an anthropological view. Some cultures, and some periods in history, permit, or permitted, things that other cultures, or our current society, condemn. It’s all a matter of the circumstances in which one was raised. There is no absolute authority that allows us to make judgments in such matters. One standard of behavior isn’t inherently superior to any other. It’s all a matter of evolution.

A rising relativistic tide, crashing upon and wearing away the exposed bedrock of the shoreline is how absolutists feel about a changing ethical landscape. Such flooding of the surface, upon which one stands, causes one to lose contact with the ground underneath one’s feet and makes all things chaotic and uncertain.

Our American society seems to have isolated itself into two separate camps. My college ethics class would be of no help in this dilemma. That class left us students with more questions than answers.

What I do know for certain is that each one of us is more like each other than we are different. All have the same basic needs: to be fed, clothed, housed, and respected. I have a firm belief, based upon experience, that we are more likely to receive those needs if we cooperate with one another, rather than struggle.

Part of that experience comes from having taken an Outward Bound class between my junior and senior year in high school. We were placed into crews of around 11 people each. One of the assignments given to my crew was to get ourselves over a 14-foot wall using nothing but our own hands and ingenuity. We succeeded. They gave us similar problems to solve. Time after time we surprised ourselves with how successful we could be as soon as we ceased our arguing and worked together.

I realize now I had already learned the lesson I needed. I probably could have skipped that ethics class.

Philip Lussier lives in Ashfield.