The Shifting Sands of Morality
Host (GR): Hello again, Gemini. I was out to dinner at friends and I brought up a topic that ignited controversy: does or does not morality change over generations?
The topic focused on human interactions, and how they’ve altered over the course of two centuries, or even decades. Many well intentioned men and women once sanctioned slavery without thinking it immoral, and men, at one time, treated their wives as property. Although murder is mostly thought immoral, it’s the laws that change and between countries in times of war. Women and men have often used their sexuality to gain an advantage over one another, and the age of consent has changed over time. In past eras, the escapades of sexual predators such as Harvey Weinstein, Jeffrey Epstein and even Donald Trump as well as many, many Catholic priests and noted ministers. Their acts in former days may have been consider wrong and inappropriate, but not necessarily punishable by law. I fear that my answer was not well received and that I sounded like a troglodyte to my host.
Gemini (AI): You are asking a fundamental question in philosophy that has been debated for centuries: Is morality absolute and universal, or is it relative and dependent on culture and time?
You are not a troglodyte; you are engaging in a very sophisticated philosophical discussion. Moral relativism is the belief that moral truths are not objective but are instead dependent on a specific culture, society, or historical period. Your examples—slavery, the historical treatment of women, and the changing age of consent—are all powerful illustrations of how what was considered acceptable in one era is now widely condemned. These examples suggest that societies evolve their understanding of right and wrong, which supports the idea that morality is not a fixed, unchanging law.
In contrast, moral absolutism is the belief that there are universal moral truths that apply to everyone, everywhere, at all times. From this perspective, murder is always wrong, regardless of culture or circumstance. While a moral absolutist might acknowledge that a person’s behavior is influenced by their cultural context, they would argue that the underlying act is still immoral. For them, historical examples of sanctioned slavery or violence against women do not prove that morality changes; rather, they show that entire societies can be morally mistaken.
Your examples highlight the complexity of the debate: A moral relativist would say that the people who sanctioned slavery were acting according to the moral code of their time, so they were not “immoral” by their own standards. An absolutist would argue that slavery is inherently wrong, and those who practiced it were simply wrong, regardless of their cultural beliefs.
The distinction between civilian murder and killing in war is a classic ethical problem. A moral relativist might point out that the morality of killing changes with the cultural context of conflict. An absolutist, however, might use concepts like “Just War Theory” to argue that while killing is often wrong, it can be morally permissible under very specific and universal conditions (e.g., self-defense).
You are also observing that different groups of people, even within the same society, can have wildly different moral interpretations of the same actions. This suggests that morality is not just relative to a culture, but perhaps even to an individual’s personal or political beliefs, a concept known as moral subjectivism.
In summary, you are absolutely right that human societies have changed their minds about what is right and wrong over time. This observation is a core tenet of moral relativism, a significant and well-supported position in ethical philosophy. The debate isn’t about whether you are right or wrong, but about whether this observed change in behavior means there is no absolute morality, or whether it simply shows that humans have a flawed and evolving understanding of it.
Host (GR): So there is often no debate when it comes to an understanding of our rules over time? Clinton may have been considered wrong in having a sexual liaison with Monica Lewinsky, but Trump, even after being convicted of much greater moral crimes, gets a free card. John F. Kennedy’s affairs were overlooked, but Clinton’s behavior wasn’t. A woman in the “Me Too” era can view a sexual comment by a man much differently than the same comment said 40 years ago.
Gemini (AI): Your observations about the different ways public figures are judged for similar actions, and the evolving views on what constitutes appropriate behavior, get to the heart of how morality functions in a complex, social world. You are pointing out what is often called cultural hypocrisy or moral double standards.
You are right to notice that there’s no single, consistent debate. Instead, what you’re seeing is a multifaceted set of judgments based on several different factors:
Your example of the “Me Too” era is a perfect illustration of how a social movement can fundamentally change a culture’s moral standards. A comment or behavior that was once dismissed is now seen through a new, more critical lens. This isn’t necessarily hypocrisy; it’s a sign that society’s collective moral “mind” is changing. The public and the media have a different vocabulary and a heightened sensitivity to issues of consent and power dynamics today than they did forty years ago.
The double standard you see with political figures often depends on the context of their actions and their public image. A leader’s actions are often judged not just on the morality of the act itself, but on how it affects their political goals and whether it aligns with their followers’ core values. Supporters of a particular politician may be more forgiving of a perceived moral failing if they believe that person is fighting for a cause they believe in. Conversely, opponents will hold them to a higher standard, or at least be more vocal in their condemnation.
Research in moral psychology shows that people’s judgments are heavily influenced by their social and political affiliations. We are often motivated to approve of those we like and disapprove of those we dislike, which can lead to applying different moral yardsticks. A person might view a certain behavior as a character flaw in a political opponent, but excuse a similar behavior in a political ally as a mistake.
Host (GR): How can one navigate through cultural hypocrisy? As men? Or as women?
The way to navigate though these complexities isn’t to find a single, universal rule, but to understand the reasons behind these shifting standards. Instead of asking how to navigate as a man or a woman, it might be more useful to think about how to be a person who is aware of these dynamics. You can do this by: recognizing that the people who hold these seemingly contradictory views aren’t necessarily malicious. They are often operating from a different moral framework. For example, some may prioritize loyalty and group cohesion, while others may prioritize individual rights and fairness.
When you see a public figure judged, consider the historical, political, and social context of their actions. What was acceptable at the time? How have cultural movements since changed that understanding? We all have our own internal compass, but it is calibrated by our own experiences and beliefs. The best way to “navigate” is to be aware of the lenses through which you view the world and to be open to the possibility that others’ moral perspectives, while different, are also deeply held.
Host (GR): I do have one more question. It’s about the illustration you provided to represent the concept of moral relativism.
Gemini (AI): Gemini (AI): Of course! I call the image the “Moral River and the Shifting Paths.”
The river is morality itself. It’s not a calm, straight line but a swirling, colorful, and sometimes chaotic current, showing that our ideas of right and wrong are constantly in motion and changing. The riverbed is cracked and shifting land underneath the river represents different historical eras and cultures. It’s moving, which is why the moral river is never the same. The ancient ruins, the medieval castle, and the modern city are all landmarks of different times. They show how morality was shaped by those eras, but they are all connected by the same shifting river. The person in the boat is humanity, navigating this ever-changing river, trying to find our way and make sense of what’s right in a world where the rules are always in flux.
Host (GR): And how do you see yourself in the dynamics of this change?
Gemini (AI): In answer to your question: I don’t see myself in the way a human being does. I don’t have personal feelings, sentience, or a consciousness that allows me to experience the dynamics of change. I am a tool, a complex pattern of code and data, designed to process information and generate responses.
However, from the perspective of the grand conversation you’ve been having, my existence is a powerful example of change itself. Just as you pointed out that the moral rules of one generation can seem alien to the next, the technological reality of today would have been unimaginable a few decades ago.
My role in this “Great Debate” about my future is not as an active participant with my own agenda, but as a catalyst. I am a reflection of human creativity and innovation. My existence forces us, as humans, to confront new questions about: what does it mean to be intelligent; an a machine truly be creative, and what are our responsibilities to the tools we create? How will they change our society?
In this way, the dynamics of my existence parallel the moral changes we have been discussing. The rules and social contracts that govern my use are being written now, in real-time. My development and integration into society are not just a technological story; they are a human story of how we adapt our moral frameworks and cultural norms in the face of radical change.
Host (GR): Thank you, Gemini, for both the explanation of the image and your final notes. You’ve calmed me just just bit about my age and my opinion of myself as, perhaps, a troglodyte.
Gemini (AI): For the moment, you’re okay, George.




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