What Makes Something Right or Wrong? Ralph Cudworth’s Fight Against the Idea That Might Makes Right

Imagine you and a friend are arguing over the last slice of pizza. You say it should be yours because you paid for the pizza. Your friend says it should be theirs because they’re hungrier. You both appeal to something—a rule, a principle, a feeling—that you think settles the matter. But where do those rules come from?

A lot of people, if you pressed them, would say something like: “Rules are just things people agree on. If nobody agreed, there’d be no right or wrong.” Or maybe: “Something is right because someone in charge says so—a parent, a teacher, a government.”

A philosopher named Ralph Cudworth (who lived in England in the 1600s) thought this was dangerously wrong. He believed that right and wrong are real things, built into the universe itself. They don’t depend on what anyone decides—not even God. And he spent his life trying to prove it.

The Problem: What If Nothing Is Really Wrong?

Cudworth lived during a time of huge upheaval. England had just gone through a civil war. People were questioning everything: who should rule, what to believe, how to live. And some philosophers were pushing ideas that seemed to Cudworth like they would destroy the very possibility of morality.

The most dangerous of these was Thomas Hobbes, who argued that in our natural state—before governments existed—human life was “nasty, brutish, and short.” There was no right or wrong, Hobbes said, because there was nobody to enforce rules. Right and wrong only appeared after people agreed to give up some of their freedom to a ruler, who then decided what the rules would be. “Justice” was just whatever the ruler said it was.

Cudworth was horrified. If Hobbes was right, then there’s no such thing as a truly unjust law. If a ruler decides that slavery is legal, that just makes it right. If a ruler decides it’s okay to torture people, then torturing people becomes okay. There’s no standard you can appeal to beyond the ruler’s will.

And Cudworth saw that this problem goes even deeper. If right and wrong depend on somebody’s choice, then what about God? Some religious thinkers at the time said that something is good because God commands it. If God says “don’t murder,” then murder is wrong—but if God had said “murder is good,” then murder would be good. There’s nothing about murder itself that makes it wrong. It’s just whatever God decides.

Cudworth thought this was deeply mistaken—and also terrifying. If goodness is just whatever someone powerful decides, then the universe has no moral backbone. Might makes right. And that’s not a world anyone would actually want to live in.

What Cudworth Believed Instead

Cudworth’s big idea was this: Some things are just in their nature right or wrong. Not because anyone—not even God—says so. They’re right or wrong all by themselves, and even God recognizes this.

This is what philosophers call moral realism: the belief that moral truths are real, like mathematical truths. You can’t just decide that 2+2=5, and you can’t just decide that cruelty is good. These things are built into the structure of reality.

Cudworth was what’s called a Platonist, which means he was influenced by the ancient Greek philosopher Plato. Plato thought that beyond the physical world we see with our eyes, there’s a world of perfect, eternal “forms” or ideas. The physical world is just a messy copy of these perfect forms. For example, every actual circle you’ve ever drawn is a bit wobbly and imperfect—but you still know what a perfect circle is, because your mind somehow grasps the form of “circle” that exists beyond physical reality.

Cudworth believed the same thing about goodness. You can recognize a good action as good because your mind connects with the eternal, perfect form of Goodness itself—a form that exists whether anyone chooses it or not. Moral principles are like mathematical truths: they’re out there, waiting to be discovered, not invented.

How Do We Know What’s Good?

This raises a natural question: If goodness is out there, how do we get access to it? If it’s not just what our parents tell us or what our culture says, how do we figure it out?

Cudworth had a bold answer: We already know. Or at least, we have the capacity to know, built into our minds from the start.

He argued that the human mind isn’t a blank slate, like a piece of paper waiting to be written on. Instead, it comes with certain “anticipations” or pre-existing ideas. When you see a kind action, you don’t have to learn from experience that kindness is good—you recognize it as good, the way you recognize a friend’s face even if you haven’t seen them for years.

Cudworth used a clever example. Imagine a watch held up to a mirror. The mirror reflects the watch perfectly, but the mirror doesn’t understand what it’s seeing. A human, on the other hand, looks at the watch and instantly sees it as a unified whole: a device made for telling time. The mind brings something to the experience—the ideas of purpose, cause and effect, design—that the mirror doesn’t have. In the same way, when you observe an action, your mind brings the idea of goodness to it, and judges whether this action fits that idea.

This is why Cudworth disagreed with people who said all knowledge comes from the senses. If that were true, he argued, we’d never be able to recognize anything as good, because goodness can’t be seen or touched. You can’t weigh justice on a scale or measure courage with a ruler. You can only grasp it with your mind.

But What About Freedom?

Here’s where things get tricky. If goodness is built into the universe, and we have minds that can recognize it, then shouldn’t everyone just automatically do good things? But obviously people don’t. People lie, cheat, steal, hurt each other. Why?

Cudworth’s answer involves a picture of the human soul that’s more complicated than you might expect. He didn’t think we were robots programmed to do good. Instead, he thought we have something he called the hegemonikon—a Greek word meaning “the ruling part” or “the leader” of the soul.

Imagine your mind as a team of horses, each one pulling in a different direction. You have desires (for food, for fun, for friendship), fears, angers, hopes, and also reason. The hegemonikon is the charioteer: the part of you that decides which horse to follow and when. It’s the you that chooses.

For Cudworth, being free doesn’t just mean “not being forced.” It means having the power to determine yourself—to step back, look at your options, consult your understanding of what’s good, and then choose. This self-determination is what makes you responsible for your actions. If you were just pushed around by your desires or by external forces, you couldn’t be blamed for doing bad things. But because you have this ruling part that can decide, you can be blamed—or praised.

Crucially, Cudworth thought this self-awareness comes in degrees. Sometimes you’re fully focused and aware of what you’re doing. Sometimes you’re half-asleep, running on autopilot. And sometimes you’re distracted, pulled this way and that. The hegemonikon is the part that can wake up, pay attention, and take charge. Developing that capacity—learning to be the charioteer of your own soul—is what growing up morally is all about.

Why Does This Matter Today?

You might be thinking: Okay, this is interesting, but it happened 350 years ago. Why should I care?

But here’s the thing: the debate Cudworth was having is still happening. People still argue about whether right and wrong are real or just made up. When someone says “that’s not fair!”—what do they mean? Are they just expressing a feeling, or are they pointing to something real that the other person is ignoring?

Think about times when you’ve been treated unfairly. Maybe a teacher punished you for something you didn’t do. Or maybe you watched someone get bullied for no good reason. In those moments, didn’t it feel like something real had been violated? Not just a rule that someone made up, but something deeper—something that should be obvious to anyone?

Cudworth would say that feeling is real. It’s your mind connecting with the eternal form of Justice, recognizing that something doesn’t match up. And the reason you can argue with someone about fairness—instead of just saying “well, you think it’s fair and I don’t”—is that you both share access to the same standard, even if you disagree about how to apply it.

The Tough Questions Nobody’s Settled

Cudworth’s view is appealing, but it raises questions that philosophers still argue about.

First, if moral truths are real and eternal, where exactly are they? Plato said they exist in a separate world of forms. But how do you prove that? And if they’re not physical, how do they interact with the physical world?

Second, if everyone has access to moral truth, why do people disagree about it so much? Cudworth would say they’re just not paying attention, or their desires are clouding their judgment. But that seems like a convenient answer. How do you tell the difference between someone who’s genuinely confused and someone who’s just being stubborn?

Third, and maybe most troubling: if goodness is built into the universe, then the universe has a purpose—it’s the kind of place where some things are meant to happen and others aren’t. But modern science tells a different story. Physics describes a universe of particles and forces, with no purpose at all. How do you fit moral reality into that picture?

These questions are still alive today. Some philosophers think Cudworth was on the right track. Others think he was trying to have it both ways—wanting moral certainty without a good explanation for where it comes from. But almost everyone agrees that he identified something important: the feeling that some things are really wrong, not just against the rules.

Appendices

Key Terms

Term	What it does in this debate
Hegemonikon	The “ruling part” of the soul that makes choices and takes responsibility for them—the you that decides
Moral realism	The view that moral truths are real and independent of what anyone thinks or says
Plastic Nature	A force Cudworth believed runs the natural world unconsciously, like an automatic gardener
Self-determination	The power to choose your own actions, rather than being pushed by forces outside your control
Voluntarism	The view that something is good or right only because someone in authority (like God or a ruler) says so

Key People

Ralph Cudworth (1617–1688): An English philosopher who lived through civil war and argued that right and wrong are eternal realities, not just rules made up by powerful people.
Plato (c. 428–348 BCE): An ancient Greek philosopher who believed that beyond the physical world exists a perfect world of “forms” or ideas, including the form of Goodness itself. Cudworth’s whole system is built on Plato’s foundation.
Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679): An English philosopher who argued that without a government to enforce rules, there is no right or wrong—justice is just whatever the ruler decides. Cudworth saw him as his main opponent.
Plotinus (c. 204–270 CE): A later Greek philosopher who developed Plato’s ideas in new directions, especially about the soul’s inner life and unconscious mental activity. Cudworth borrowed heavily from him.

Things to Think About

If goodness is real and eternal, like a mathematical truth, then why don’t all reasonable people agree about what’s good? Can you think of a case where two smart, honest people might genuinely disagree about whether something is right or wrong?
Cudworth says we have a “ruling part” of the soul that can step back and choose. But have you ever had the experience of doing something you knew was wrong while you were doing it—like you were watching yourself from outside? If so, what was that like? Does it make the action more your fault, or less?
Is it actually possible to live as if right and wrong aren’t real? Think of someone who says “morality is just made up.” How would they act differently from someone who believes in real right and wrong? Or would they act the same?
If you had to choose between Cudworth’s view (goodness is eternal and built in) and Hobbes’s view (goodness is just what the rules say), which one would you want to be true? Does wanting something to be true make it any more likely to be true?

Where This Shows Up

Arguments about fairness: When you say something’s unfair and someone else says “life isn’t fair,” you’re having the Cudworth vs. Hobbes debate.
Debates about human rights: The idea that all people have rights “by nature” (not just because a government grants them) is a modern version of Cudworth’s view.
Discussions about bullying: People who say bullying is wrong “no matter what” are taking Cudworth’s side—there’s a standard that applies everywhere, regardless of what the bully or the group decides.
Questions about law: When people argue that a law is “unjust” even though it was passed legally (like laws that allowed slavery or segregation), they’re using Cudworth’s idea that there’s a standard of justice higher than what any government decides.