The Tyranny of an absolute Moral Code in small groups

Jim & Jill discuss this article in their podcast here.

To get started some background about me: white male, 60 year old Gen X, married to a Filipina, two Shiba Inus, my son is half Columbian, my dad German, my mother was Dutch, worked and lived for 15 years in London, lived for a a couple of years in Spain, Singapore and the Philippines, worked in Film & TV, now teach in the Netherlands.

Reflecting on this, I can say I have been around a bit. I’d like to think that I am open minded, have a mutual respect for other cultures and the LGBTQ+ community. To me the universal declaration of Human Rights is a huge accomplishment for mankind.

I am also Human, I get things wrong. Maybe confuse a pronoun; instead of “they” I might still use “Him” or “Her”. A minor transgression I am not proud of. I do my best to understand a moral code when it arises, how it evolves and how it should be applied.

Until the other day, after reflecting on how a moral code was applied in a workshop setting. I do not want to give too much away to protect all participant and, if by coincidence one of my workshop peers reads this blog, then please feel free to message me if you want to talk about this. My impression is that the event impacted on all of us.

What happened was that the workshop activity required us to freely associate sentences together with a partner. I came up with “I’ll take off my clothes”. This triggered our coach to call me out on this and rightly so. If anyone is offended by me saying something inappropriate, I’ll be the first to apologise and adjust my behaviour. I acknowledged the feedback, but was surprised about the intensity of it. During sessions like this it is not unusual to have a coach interject and point out something problematic; behaviour is consequently adjusted and we move on. This time though, it felt like feedback was a little disproportional. But then again our coach also told us about a very recent break-up, so I thought like the rest of us, our coach had a bad day.

As we moved through the workshop I became curious. I noticed that another workshop peer associated a raunchy towel fight in the shower. I realised that our coach never got into detail why my comment was inappropriate other than that I had an extra responsibility to keep it clean. Yet the shower moment was acceptable. This got me thinking if this is a conincidence, and sure enough, there was another instance where I was called out for saying something sexist.

This was a surreal moment. There was this part of me that felt confused and guilty: what did I do? What is it that is so offending, yet others, are not called out for saying similar things? And then there was me observing myself in this workshop, curious as to what’s going on, noticing the discomfort that the vague feedback was causing.

I ploughed through the workshop, with an heightened sense of reality, observing and losing all motivation to continue. But I did. On the way home I reflected on what happened. and what I said that was perceived as so offensive; I dug deep, honest, and concluded that at best there was minor transgression which did not warrant this kind of aggressive feedback. Feedback was vague and not specific, and only applied to me; others who made similar comments were not called out at all or even complimented for their sexy association.

I investigated a little more and discovered that there is well-documented phenomenon called ‘weaponised virtue’. In small groups (10–15 people), formal authority is often less powerful than social capital. When a group adopts a moral code specifically designed to prevent sexism, a savvy operator can capture the group by positioning themselves as the “Enforcer of the Code”. Because the group fears “abuse of power,” they will grant immense authority to the person who claims to be protecting them from it.

Moral codes are necessary, without them the world would be a terrible place. In this instance, however, I learned that a weaponised moral code used to gain power is self-destructive. It hollows the group out from within, motivation is lost, and people in the group sense that something is not quite right.

You might think that perhaps the problem really is what I said during the workshop. Perhaps all of a suddenly I turned into a sexist white male, out to discriminate others. I discussed this with my wife, with friends, and as a teacher in an international institution In would like to think that I have the sensitivity needed to avoid sexist and discriminatory behaviour as much as possible. I am still a white male from a privileged background – but thats something I cannot change. Above all though I am Human Being, like everyone else on this planet. I believe we have more in common than separates us. We have mothers, fathers, siblings, family and friends – regardless of where we come from.

And thats why I decided to write this article. Yes, we need moral codes, and yes Sexism is wrong, but absolute application of a moral code and using it to gain power, is equally despicable. When the code that is designed to prevent injustice is causing suffering and more injustice, then we should resist.

This is a complex problem though, because rejecting weaponised virtue when it is directed at you is not easy. In the worst case it could escalate into the Purity Spiral, where members of a group compete to be morally superior that the tiniest transgression, if any, demanding the strongest of penalties.

Journalist Gavin Haynes investigated the Purity Spiral among an online knitting group. The group ultimately disintegrated because members became so toxic in their discussion about inclusivity that the owner of the group almost committed suicide. All he wanted was to be more inclusive towards people of colour, renaming the group to ‘diversnitty’, and in doing so became the target of thousands of people accusing him of being a white supremacist—when in fact he was gay, married, and HIV+. Yet the vast majority of his critics were not people of colour—but white middle-class people who appointed themselves as the Enforcer of the Code.

You might find yourself one day in a situation where you need to determine whether or not you committed a major, a minor, or no moral code offence at all. I created the chart below to help you navigate a potentially complex and challenging moment.

But even if you find clarity for yourself, it may not be possible to confront the Enforcer(s) of the Code; it may not be possible to have a rational discussion. In that case, just consider leaving that group on friendly terms and wish them the best of luck – they will need more than you do.