Perspectives
A fluid, local, model of morality
Morality is a tricky subject. We often treat it as if there’s a clear, universal code that everyone should accept and follow—yet when you look at how people actually live, it becomes obvious that moral viewpoints vary drastically from place to place and from person to person. How can something so important be so subjective? And what does it mean when we try to create rules—through politics or culture—to enforce our particular sense of right and wrong on everyone else?
I’ve come to believe that morality is fundamentally local, not global. It arises from the small, personal decisions we make every day, shaped by the experiences and information we carry with us. If that’s the case, then maybe the real challenge we face isn’t just about which moral code is correct—it’s about how we understand (or fail to understand) perspectives different from our own. Below are a few thoughts on why these different perspectives emerge, how they lead to conflict, and why curiosity and empathy might be our best tools for bridging the gaps.
Morality as Local, Not Global
Most of us inherit our first sense of right and wrong from our families and communities. We absorb these norms without even realizing it: what’s acceptable in some households might be completely off-limits just two houses down the street. By the time we reach adolescence, we’ve already formed a worldview—often a myopic one—that we treat as the baseline for morality.
When we scale this up, into states, countries, or vast cultural spheres, it becomes almost impossible to create one absolute set of moral truths that resonates equally with everyone. Politics, at its core, might be described as a society’s attempt to codify moral perspectives into law: deciding what’s fair, what’s harmful, and what responsibilities we owe each other. But given how many conflicting moral systems exist—frequently shaped by religious beliefs, socio-economic contexts, family upbringing, and individual experiences—political discourse often devolves into battles over whose moral “facts” prevail.
The crux of the problem? We sometimes treat political decisions as if there’s a single, correct moral stance that must be universally imposed. Yet for anyone who’s lived in more than one cultural environment (or even a single environment with diverse neighbors), it’s painfully clear that moral issues are rarely black and white once you account for context.
Two Sides of the Same Moral Coin
Consider, for instance, the debate around transgender rights—a topic that tends to ignite intense moral and emotional reactions. From the perspective of someone who is transgender, it is both fair and vital to live publicly as the gender they identify with. This includes access to spaces—bathrooms, locker rooms, sports teams—traditionally segmented by gender. From that vantage point, being recognized for who you truly are is not just a demand for comfort, but a matter of basic human dignity.
From another perspective—like that of a 12-year-old cisgender girl—seeing someone you perceive as a “boy” in a bathroom or on a sports team can feel unsettling, particularly if you’ve been taught your whole life that certain spaces are meant only for certain people. A natural initial response could be fear or confusion, especially for a young person still figuring out how the world works.
It’s easy for these perspectives to clash. The transgender student sees exclusion as moral harm—because it is. Meanwhile, the cisgender girl feels her sense of safety and privacy is being violated. In truth, both are responding from places that feel morally correct to them. Neither one is “wrong” for how they feel.
Often, society’s approach is to force a singular moral resolution—picking which side is “right” and which must give way. But the heart of the conflict is that each side sees only their own perspective, without fully appreciating the other’s. This disconnect, this lack of mutual understanding, is the crux of the problem.
When Worldviews Collide
We don’t just have these collisions of perspective in hot-button social issues. We see them play out every day at work, in our friendships, and especially in our intimate relationships. What happens when our local sense of right and wrong or our deeply ingrained worldview meets a contradictory perspective?
I’ve seen this firsthand in my own life. For years, I assumed that my personal worldview—a fairly standard one for a “white guy in tech” who loves to build things—was basically correct. I had a sense of how the world should function and how people should behave. It wasn’t until I started dating my girlfriend, someone who holds different life experiences and assumptions, that I realized just how strongly my own lens had shaped (and sometimes limited) my moral thinking.
By genuinely trying to see the world as she sees it, I discovered I wasn’t always right; I was just seeing the world locally, from my vantage point. When you love someone, you put in the time to understand them. That effort—sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes disorienting—can profoundly shift the way you interpret everyday events. And it makes you realize just how often we forget that other people’s perspectives can be equally valid, even when they seem to contradict our own.
The Role of Information Asymmetry
Why do moral misunderstandings escalate into outright conflict, whether it’s left vs. right, us vs. them, or friend vs. friend? A big part of it is information asymmetry. Each of us sees only a slice of the whole picture, shaped by:
Media sources that selectively emphasize (or spin) facts.
Social circles that reinforce certain beliefs and dismiss others.
Personal experiences that make some stories “real” to us while others remain abstract.
Staying in our own bubble feels comfortable; we surround ourselves with news, entertainment, and friends that validate our beliefs. Yet that comfort comes at a cost: we rarely gain new information that challenges our assumptions. Without hearing the “other side’s” stories from their own mouths, it’s easy to assume they act out of ignorance or malice. In reality, most people aren’t out to cause harm; they’re just doing the best they can with what they know.
The Discomfort of Expanding Your Perspective
It takes real work—and often discomfort—to view the world through someone else’s eyes. It’s not just an intellectual exercise; it can shake up deeply held beliefs and force us to revisit parts of ourselves we’d rather keep tucked away. It can feel like being told you’re “wrong” or “naïve,” which naturally triggers our defenses.
Yet, pushing through that discomfort can be transformative. Once you start asking why—why people vote for certain policies, why they uphold certain moral values, why they fear or embrace particular societal changes—you discover the deeper motivations that might have been invisible from a distance. That knowledge doesn’t require you to abandon your own beliefs. But it often reduces the hostility you feel toward people who think differently. Instead of labeling them as villains, you might see them as humans navigating their own challenges with the best information they have.
The Power of “I Don’t Know”
One of the greatest forms of humility is admitting when we don’t have all the answers. There’s a certain peace in saying “I don’t know,” followed by “but I’d like to understand.” That openness is the starting point for real dialogue. It places the focus on learning rather than on winning an argument.
When we’re locked into the certainty that our moral framework is the “right” one, we tend to see everyone else as misguided. But when we allow for the possibility that we could learn something from other perspectives, we stop trying to shut people down and start seeking insight.
Finding Common Ground Through Curiosity
If morality is mostly local, then maybe the global solution isn’t about forcing the same rules on everyone—it’s about fostering curiosity and empathy across our many different “locals.” There will always be disagreements, and there will always be policies that need to be decided in one direction or another. But perhaps our political and personal conversations can be less about moral condemnation and more about moral understanding.
What might that look like in practice?
Ask Questions Before Arguing
When encountering a stance that offends or confuses you, ask “why” before immediately dismissing it. Listen to the story that shapes it. You might still disagree, but you’ll know more about the person’s reasons.Acknowledge Conflicting Emotions
Many moral conflicts involve fear, pain, or exclusion on both sides. Recognizing that both parties can be “right” in how they feel goes a long way toward reducing hostility.Diversify Your Information
Step outside your usual media and social bubbles. Actively seek out voices that challenge or expand your worldview. You might find common threads you never noticed before.Embrace “I Don’t Know”
Giving yourself permission not to have all the answers—especially about complex, emotionally charged issues—lowers the stakes. It opens the door to collaborative thinking and exploration.Meet People Where They’re At
Remember that no one’s moral perspective appears in a vacuum. We’re each shaped by our families, cultures, socioeconomic backgrounds, and personal experiences. The more we respect that starting point, the more likely we are to engage without alienation.
Conclusion
It’s easy to feel overwhelmed or even fearful when confronted by moral beliefs that conflict with our own. But our world becomes less scary, and more comprehensible, when we make the effort to understand how other people arrive at their viewpoints. Whether it’s transgender rights, political divides, or everyday disputes with family members, the real question isn’t “Whose morality is the ultimate truth?”—it’s “How can we learn from each other without losing our compassion and respect?”
The answers aren’t simple, but they start with curiosity. They start with accepting the possibility that your experience of the world is neither complete nor universally correct. From there, each conversation we have can be more generous, more empathetic, and ultimately more constructive. And if we can each do that, in our own small corners of society, perhaps we’ll find that bridging moral divides begins with seeing—and respecting—other people’s local realities.