When you say "torture is wrong," are you stating a fact about the universe, or expressing a feeling? This question—seemingly abstract—sits at the foundation of everything we think about ethics.

Meta-ethics asks not what is right or wrong, but what we're even doing when we make moral claims. Moral realists believe ethical statements can be objectively true or false, like mathematical propositions. Anti-realists deny this, viewing morality as expression, convention, or human construction with no mind-independent truth.

The stakes are higher than they first appear. If moral realism is true, moral progress is possible—we can discover moral facts we previously missed. If anti-realism is true, what exactly are we doing when we condemn historical atrocities or praise moral heroes? Understanding this debate transforms how you approach every ethical argument you encounter.

The phenomenology of moral experience provides the realist's first powerful argument. When you witness cruelty, the wrongness doesn't feel like a personal preference—it feels discovered, not invented. Moral intuitions arrive with a force that aesthetic preferences rarely match. This experiential quality suggests we're perceiving something real.

Realists also point to moral explanations that seem genuinely informative. Why did the civil rights movement succeed? Because segregation was genuinely unjust. This explanation seems to add something—the injustice isn't merely a label we apply after the fact, but part of why history unfolded as it did. If moral properties do real explanatory work, they merit inclusion in our ontology.

The convergence argument strengthens the realist position. Despite persistent disagreements, moral progress appears real. Almost no one now defends chattel slavery or denies women's moral standing. This convergence, realists argue, mirrors scientific progress—we're getting closer to moral truth, not merely changing preferences.

Perhaps most compelling is the companions in guilt strategy. If you reject moral facts because they're "queer" or metaphysically strange, you must also reject mathematical facts, logical truths, and other abstract objects. Few philosophers are willing to embrace such thoroughgoing skepticism. Morality may be no stranger than mathematics—both involve abstract truths we access through reason rather than sensation.

Takeaway

The strength of moral realism lies not in any single argument, but in how well it captures our actual moral experience—the sense that we discover wrongness rather than merely projecting it.

The argument from disagreement presents the most intuitive challenge to moral realism. Persistent, fundamental moral disagreements—about abortion, capital punishment, animal rights—seem different from scientific disputes. Scientific disagreements tend to resolve with better evidence; moral disagreements persist despite shared facts. This pattern suggests we're not converging on objective truths.

J.L. Mackie's argument from queerness poses a deeper challenge. What would moral facts even be? They would have to be utterly unlike natural facts—neither physical nor psychological, yet somehow capable of motivating action. No other facts carry this built-in prescriptivity. If moral facts existed, they would be metaphysically bizarre entities unlike anything else in our ontology.

Evolutionary debunking arguments add empirical force. Natural selection shaped our moral intuitions for survival and reproduction, not truth-tracking. The intuition that we should protect our children, for instance, clearly serves evolutionary purposes. But if evolution explains our moral beliefs without reference to moral truths, what reason do we have to trust those beliefs?

Anti-realists also emphasize the explanatory adequacy of their view. We can fully explain moral discourse—its social functions, emotional components, motivational force—without positing objective moral facts. Parsimony favors the explanation requiring fewer exotic entities. If morality serves social coordination and emotional expression, why add metaphysical baggage?

Takeaway

Anti-realism's power lies in explaining everything about moral practice without requiring mysterious moral facts—raising the question of whether such facts are explanatorily idle.

A pragmatic objection haunts this entire debate: does the meta-ethical answer change anything about first-order ethics? Whether moral realism is true or false, torture still seems wrong. We still condemn cruelty and praise kindness. Perhaps meta-ethics is a philosophical puzzle with no practical import.

But the practical stakes are real. Moral confidence shifts with meta-ethical commitments. If morality is objective, imposing your values on others through law has stronger justification—you're enforcing truths, not preferences. If morality is constructed, tolerance and humility gain stronger footing. The answer shapes how we approach moral disagreement.

Consider moral progress. Realists can say abolishing slavery wasn't merely change but improvement—we discovered a moral truth. Anti-realists must offer more complex accounts, perhaps appealing to internal coherence or expanding circles of empathy. Neither view eliminates moral discourse, but they frame it differently.

Perhaps the most important practical upshot involves intellectual humility. Both positions, carefully examined, counsel against moral dogmatism—realism because moral knowledge is difficult and incomplete, anti-realism because our convictions rest on contingent foundations. The examined meta-ethical life, whatever conclusion you reach, tends toward epistemic modesty about ethical claims.

Takeaway

The meta-ethical question matters not because it tells you what to do, but because it shapes how confident you should be in telling others what to do.

The debate between moral realism and anti-realism remains unresolved after millennia—which itself tells us something. Neither position is obviously absurd; both capture genuine features of moral experience. Realism honors the objectivity morality seems to demand; anti-realism honors the difficulty of locating moral facts in the natural world.

What emerges clearly is that meta-ethics isn't merely academic wordplay. Your answer shapes moral confidence, tolerance of disagreement, and interpretation of moral progress. It determines whether you see ethics as discovery or invention.

Perhaps the most valuable outcome isn't settling the question but understanding what's at stake in asking it. That understanding alone makes you a more sophisticated moral reasoner—regardless of where you land.