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sometimes commit suicide. Durkheimians have a biological need to belong to tight groups with clear and widely shared norms for behavior.

Given this need, it is not surprising that Durkheimian ethics revolves around groups. For any action, they ask: Does it undermine or strengthen the group? Anyone whose actions weaken social cohesion is evil and ostracized. For first offenders, the ostracism is brief, but for the most serious offenses the offender is tattooed with the word “Individualist” and is expelled from the group. Durkheimian societies are hierarchically organized by hereditary occupational castes, and most of the ostracism cases involve individuals who fail to perform their caste duties. These individuals seem to prefer their own comfort or own projects to the needs of their highly interdependent groups.

Within a few weeks of the discovery of Planet Durkheim, Google found a way to translate and index all Durkheimian academic journals. We used Google Durkheim to examine the state of social psychology research, and we found a fascinating debate taking place over the puzzle of “The Dissenters.” The Dissenters are a social movement that disagrees with the frequent use of permanent ostracism. The Dissenters point out that the penalty is applied overwhelmingly to members of the lower castes, for whom work is often dull or dangerous. They argue that these individuals are not traitors, they are innocent victims who should be given compassion, more societal resources, and better work. The Dissenters even suggest that society should be changed, so that each individual rotates through all the high and low caste positions. The Dissenters acknowledge that such rotations would be less efficient than the current system of lifelong specializations assigned at birth, but they say it would be somehow right or good to do it anyway.

The Dissenters are a puzzle because most of them come from the upper castes. Why would an upper-caste Durkheimian press for a change to society that would harm not just himself (through loss of privileges) but also society as a whole (through loss of efficiency)? There is no justification for such a position within Durkheimian morality, so Durkheimian social psychologists recently proposed a theory—called “victim justification theory”—to explain the unconscious motives that impel Dissenters to defend traitors and challenge the legitimacy of the social system.

Of course, Planet Durkheim does not really exist, but our reactions to it can be illustrative. It seems obvious to terrestrial readers that the Dissenters are trying to act in accordance with moral concepts such as fairness, rights, and justice, which the rest of their hive-like, group-oriented society does not include as part of the moral domain. In this paper, we suggest that an analogous situation holds here on Earth: many people who justify the political/ economic system even when it seems to work to their detriment are trying to act in accordance with moral concepts such as loyalty, tradition, hierarchy,

order, respect for one’s superiors, and sacredness. The politically homogeneous discipline of psychology, however, does not at present consider such traditional concepts to be a part of the moral domain. For example, the most widely used definition in moral psychology says that “the moral domain refers to prescriptive judgments of justice, rights, and welfare pertaining to how people ought to relate to each other” (Turiel, 1983, p. 3). Rules and practices related to sexual purity, patriotism, and respect for authority are often dismissed as social conventions.

To develop this analogy into an argument, we will first discuss three of the most important ideas from classical sociology—community, authority, and sacredness—as described by Emile Durkheim, Ferdinand Tönnies, and Max Weber. We believe these sociologists offer to psychology analytical tools that are essential for understanding the moral concerns of American social conservatives in moral terms, rather than (or in addition to) being expressions of non-moral processes. Next, we will present our own theory of how and why the moral domain varies across cultures, which we call moral foundations theory (MFT; Haidt & Graham, 2007; Haidt & Joseph, 2004, 2007). In the third section of this chapter, we will present evidence in support of MFT, evidence that shows an unexpected but explainable result: that political conservatives are more accurate than political liberals in characterizing the explicit moral beliefs of the other side. And finally, we will suggest a reinterpretation of system justification theory (SJT; Jost & Banaji, 1994) that integrates it with MFT to provide a more complete account of the motives and motivated reasoning of partisans on both sides of the political spectrum.

THREE GREAT IDEAS

According to the sociologist Robert Nisbet (1993), two great revolutions— the French Revolution and the Industrial Revolution—were the largest steps in the long transformation of European society from medieval/feudal to modern/democratic. During this transition, the individual took on much greater importance as the unit of society and the unit of value; the centralized state became ever more powerful; and there was a hollowing-out of everything in between. The many lowand mid-level associations and institutions that had proliferated in medieval Europe (guilds, extended families, the church, local feudal authorities) were weakened or destroyed. These cataclysmic changes to the social order greatly increased the liberty of most individuals, but the loss of social structure and social integration imposed costs on individuals as well. Sociology has its roots in the study of these changes (e.g., Marx, 1977/1867; Tocqueville, 1988/1835). Political conservatism has its roots in the opposition to them (e.g., Burke, 2003/1790).

Nisbet (1993) presents five “unit-ideas” of sociology—fundamental concepts developed in the 19th century that are still essential for sociological work today. We will focus our discussion on three of these ideas1— community, authority, and sacredness—for these three ideas match closely the three foundations of morality that (we believe) psychologists often fail to recognize as moral foundations (Haidt & Graham, 2007). In arguing that community, authority, and sacredness are foundations of morality, we are making a descriptive claim only, not a normative one. We claim that most people across cultures and throughout history have considered community, authority, and sacredness to be sources of moral value in their own right, not derived from their ability to promote other values such as the welfare of individuals or justice. If this descriptive claim is true, then a moral psychology that examines only the psychology of welfare and justice is incomplete as an empirical exercise.

Community

Many theorists have contrasted two basic modes of relationship, one warm and personal, exemplified most perfectly in the closeness and lasting interdependence of family, the other cooler and more calculating, based on the mutual usefulness of the partners at a given time. The philosopher Buber (1937/1996) called these two forms “I-You” and “I-it.” Psychologists Clark and Mills (1979) contrasted “communal” and “exchange” relationships. People in all cultures have the capacity and the opportunity to engage in both kinds of relationship, yet cultures differ greatly in their valuation and relative frequency of the two types. Imagine that you were raised in a society in which, on average, 90% of your daily interactions were of the “warmer” type and only 10% involved the “cooler” type. What would you think of a neighboring society in which the ratios were reversed? Now imagine that your historically communal culture was undergoing changes, forced upon you by outside economic and political forces, that were pushing inexorably toward a market-based, exchange-oriented society. Might you be alarmed? Might something valuable be lost in the transition, even if these changes brought greater economic efficiency, wealth, and liberty?

The analysis of such transitions was the life-work of Ferdinand Tönnies (1887/2001), who saw this process unfolding in 19th-century Europe. Tönnies

1 The other two are alienation and status. Alienation is what happens to people when they are cut off from ties of community and shared moral purpose. This is clearly not a foundation of morality but an effect of its loss. Status refers to the position of an individual within a hierarchy. We consider the moral ramifications of status in our discussion of the authority/respect foundation.

referred to the traditional pattern of social relations as Gemeinschaft, which is usually translated as “community.” Gemeinschaft relationships rest on the three pillars (whether real or imagined) of shared blood, shared place, and shared mind or belief. The prototype of Gemeinschaft is the family, and the family (particularly the patriarchal family) is easily scaled up to create larger Gemeinschaft institutions such as the Catholic Church or the feudal system. Tönnies labeled the new, more impersonal kind of relationship Gesellschaft, which is usually translated as “society” or “civil society.” Gesellschaft is what happens when the social restraints of community are weakened, mid-level institutions are eliminated, and people are largely free to pursue their own goals as they see fit. Gesellschaft relationships are “characterized by a high degree of individualism, impersonality, [and] contractualism, and [they proceed] from volition or sheer interest rather than from the complex of affective states, habits, and traditions that underlies Gemeinschaft” (Nisbet, 1993, p. 74).

Modern social scientists, who are likely to feel repugnance toward concepts such as patriarchy and feudalism, may find themselves equating Gemeinschaft with oppression and Gesellschaft with equality, freedom, and progress. Yet even if you are a proud Gesellschafter, devoted to the scientific study of how to structure society, the legal system, and the family to improve the lives of individuals, you might soon discover that there is a dark side to Gesellschaft. That is what happened to Emile Durkheim. Durkheim was politically liberal (Coser, 1977), but he spent his career investigating the importance of some rather conservative and system-justifying ideas.

In his famous study of suicide, for example, Durkheim found that the suicide rate in European countries “varies inversely with the degree of integration of the social groups of which the individual forms a part” (Durkheim, 1951/1897, p. 208). Factors that increased social integration (having a large family, being Catholic or Jewish rather than Protestant, being in a nation at war) decreased suicide rates; factors that increased the degree to which people relied upon themselves (e.g., wealth and education) were associated with higher rates of suicide. Durkheim rejected the atomism of social theory in his day, which focused on individuals and the processes by which those individuals create larger groups. Durkheim, in contrast, gave analytical priority to the group. Many groups exist for centuries or longer; they have lives of their own, and their behavior follows laws that are not reducible to laws of psychology (hence the need for sociology). Individuals are born into these groups and made into human beings by them. Events or policies that weaken groups increase anomie—the unhealthy state in which norms are unclear or unshared—and therefore raise suicide rates. (For evidence that national suicide rates in Western nations are still related to Durkheimian variables, see Eckersley & Dear, 2002.)

In other words, if Durkheim is right, then we are all, to some extent, residents of Planet Durkheim. Strong, cohesive groups help us flourish.2 And if this is true, then moral systems that aim to strengthen groups and that value group loyalty might, under some circumstances, be better for individuals overall than a moral system that aims to maximize individual rights and liberties.3

Authority

Which bumper sticker are you more likely to find in a faculty parking lot: “Question Authority” or “God said it, I believe it, that settles it!” We believe that academics have generally negative associations to the word “authority,” associating it easily with authoritarianism and oppressive power. Nisbet, however, argues that in the history of sociology, authority is conceptually opposed to power. Authority refers to “the structure or the inner order of an association, whether this be political, religious, or cultural, and is given legitimacy by its roots in social function, tradition, or allegiance” (Nisbet, 1993, p. 6). Power, on the other hand, “is commonly identified with military or political force or with administrative bureaucracy and which, unlike the authority that arises directly from social function and association, raises the problem of legitimacy” (Nisbet, 1993, p. 6). It makes sense that academics in so many university departments are suspicious of power, which is often used to brutalize the powerless and enrich the powerful. (As Lord Acton said, “all power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”) But authority might deserve a second look.

A foundational question in cosmology is: Why is there something rather than nothing? The same can be said for sociology: Why is there such a profusion of intricate societies in which people restrain themselves and cooperate with others, rather than a planet full of self-interested individuals living in social anarchy? Tönnies, Durkheim, and Weber all investigated the willing submission of people to the rules and restraints that make social life possible. Tönnies found the answer in the natural sociability of the family, extended outward to create Gemeinschaften in which the authority of tribal, religious, or other leaders is experienced using the same psychological systems that make people feel respect for their fathers. Traditional authority is embedded

2 Up to a point. Durkheim also noted that when groups bind too tightly, a different kind of suicide—altruistic suicide, often motivated by intense shame—rises in frequency.

3 Group-based moralities might be beneficial for happiness, civic engagement, and mental health for those who fit into groups, but we note that they may be oppressive to those who do not fit in, and they often increase the likelihood of intergroup conflict.

in personal relationships: people feel respect for the people in positions of authority; they owe loyalty and obedience to them, and in return can expect protection and guidance from them.4

One of Tönnies’ concerns about the transition from Gemeinschaft to Gesellschaft was that this natural, interpersonal kind of authority is lost. When personal relationships are replaced by administrative and bureaucratic entities backed by the force of law and threat of punishment, then traditional authority is replaced by something cold, impersonal, and weak. Max Weber (1947) called this new kind of authority “rational” authority, in contrast to “traditional” authority.5 These labels may suggest to modern readers that rational authority is reasonable authority, whereas traditional authority is patriarchal oppression, but Weber focused his analyses on the dark side of the unstoppable force of rationalization. Weber acknowledged that rational authority, in concert with the bureaucratization of government and the rise of an impersonal legal system, were necessary for the efficient administration of large modern states. But he pointed out that this very rise in efficiency necessitated a loss of humanity. For example, conflict resolutions provided by traditional authorities are tailored for the particularities of each case (think of King Solomon), but modern legal proceedings, said Weber, are cold, mechanical, and often unsatisfying to all sides. In political relations, in the workplace, and even in religious and private life, Weber consistently warned about the unexpected and alienating consequences of requiring all arrangements and all actions to be justifiable with reference to efficiency, utility, and means–ends rationality.

Durkheim also stressed the loss to humanity that accompanied the loss of traditional authority and strong community. When mid-level associations and institutions are weakened, when the only remaining authority is the state, when social distinctions are erased and individuals engage mostly in temporary relationships of their own choosing, the result is not egalitarian liberty but anomic anarchy:

Man cannot become attached to higher aims and submit to a rule if he sees nothing above him to which he belongs. To free himself from all social pressure is to abandon himself and demoralize him . . . While the state becomes

4 Authority relationships, at their best, are mutually beneficial (see Fiske, 1991). However, when authority becomes distant and freed from checks and balances, it often devolves into power and oppression. See Abu-Lughod (1986) for an example of how women in a patriarchal Bedouin society impose some limits on the authority of males in their families.

5 Weber’s third kind of authority—charismatic—is not as important, for it exists only briefly, during the reign of a charismatic individual. Authority always reverts, Weber said, to a rational or traditional form.

religious beliefs per se; it is to create a cult, to forge a community out of individuals who, if left unbound and uncommitted, would think and act in profane (practical, efficient, self-serving) ways. On this view, the shared rites, shared movements, shared calendar, and shared mental maps of sacred versus profane space are more important in creating this community than are the shared factual beliefs about the nature of God and the origin of the world. (For more on the power of synchronized motor movements to create transcendent experiences that bond people together, see McNeill, 1995; Haidt, Seder, & Kesebir, in press.)

As the West continued its long (although uneven) progression from Gemeinschaft to Gesellschaft, its process of rationalization, and its dismantling of traditional sources of moral authority, is it any wonder that some critics— even nonreligious sociologists—lamented the loss of something important? The historian of religion Mircea Eliade (1959/1957) argued that the perception of sacredness is a human universal. (See also Tetlock, Kristel, Elson, Green, & Lerner, 2000, on people as “intuitive theologians.”) Most people passionately want to live in a “sacralized cosmos,” a world that is more than just matter swirling around, with no value beyond its usefulness in providing pleasure to individuals. (See Kass, 1994, on how the act of eating can be dignified and elevated above its utilitarian functions.) Eliade suggested that the cosmopolitan centers of the modern West are the first fully profane, fully desacralized societies ever created. Modern social scientists are, for the most part, secular cosmopolitans; we find pleasure and freedom in our desacralized lives and our pursuits of self-expression. We must understand, however, that many of our fellow citizens find the ethos of tolerance, individualism, and anything-goes-as-long-as-it-doesn’t-hurt-anyone to be ugly, antisocial, and profoundly immoral. How can there be such a fundamental disagreement about morality within a modern Western nation?

MORAL FOUNDATIONS THEORY

Modern moral psychology is decidedly un-Durkheimian. In fact, Jean Piaget (1965/1932) specifically disagreed with Durkheim on the value of adult constraint and “heteronomous” relationships of hierarchy and obedience. Piaget thought that children constructed much of their morality for themselves, rather than learning it from their parents or from society. If adults would just step back and grant them more autonomy, children would reach moral maturity more quickly, including especially an understanding of justice. Lawrence Kohlberg (1969, 1971) developed Piaget’s ideas further and proposed that moral development is, essentially, the individual’s development of ever more adequate reasoning about justice.

However, Kohlberg’s attempt to ground all of morality on a single foundation met with resistance: Carol Gilligan (1982) argued that women have an additional “ethic of care” derived from their experience of close relationships. The debate between Kohlberg and Gilligan dominated the field of moral psychology in the 1980s, but in the end most participants came to a consensus: Gilligan was correct that care was a separate foundation of morality, not derived from justice concerns, although she may not have been correct that the two ethics are gendered (see Gibbs, 2003; Walker, 1984). The field converged on a definition of the moral domain that accommodated both Kohlberg and Gilligan: “prescriptive judgments of justice, rights, and welfare pertaining to how people ought to relate to each other” (Turiel, 1983, p. 3).

The idea that there were two separate foundations, systems, or sets of skills with independent developmental trajectories fit with the then-emerging sociobiological idea that morality is the product of two evolutionary processes: kin altruism and reciprocal altruism (see Dawkins, 1976; Wilson, 1975). The idea that we evolved to be sensitive to the needs and welfare of our children and close kin bears an obvious affinity to Gilligan’s ethic of care, while Trivers’ (1971) explanation of reciprocal altruism and the origins of the human obsession with fairness bears an obvious affinity to Kohlberg’s emphasis on justice and rights.

But once the rationalist dream of a single principle—a unified moral theory—is lost, then why stop at two? In the 1980s and 1990s, several anthropologists objected that Western moral psychology was essentially the psychology of modern cosmopolitan Westerners, and that it could not accommodate many of the moral concerns found in other cultures. Richard Shweder (1991; Shweder, Much, Mahapatra, & Park, 1997) proposed that there are three “ethics” in which moral discourse occurs around the world: the ethic of autonomy, in which the autonomous individual is the unit of value (this is Turiel’s moral domain); the ethic of community, in which the group and its stability and cohesion are of fundamental importance; and the ethic of divinity, in which God is thought to be present in each person, rendering it morally necessary that individuals live in a pure, holy, and dignified way, rather than following their carnal desires wherever they please. In terms of Nisbet’s (1993) unit-ideas from sociology, the ethic of community obviously includes both community and authority, whereas the ethic of divinity maps neatly onto sacredness.

Haidt and Joseph (2004, 2007) and Haidt and Graham (2007) have developed Shweder’s (1991) theory further, connecting it to recent evolutionary thinking and making it more specific about the developmental processes and cognitive mechanisms involved. The result is MFT, which has three parts:

(a) a nativist claim that natural selection prepared the human mind to learn