Since time immemorial, society has had problems with those who asked questions that were dangerous to our precariously balanced ideas. From the Inquisitions of France, Spain and many other kingdoms during the Middle Ages to the Mihna of the 9th century in the Middle East. Even today, in our presumably more free society, asking questions about many matters is looked down upon. Whether asking about someone’s change in gender to the most trivial reason - why they eat so much cheese, for instance - is seen on a scale of socially unacceptable. In the beginning, there was one answer to every question. ‘God’. Soon, however, that began to fall apart. You couldn’t blame God for the lack of corn which you didn’t sow, or tell yourself God made the stone tool which you just finished carving. As humanity began to properly come to terms with philosophy and causal manipulation, we came to understand that God was not the answer to every question. Thus, we began asking and trying to answer questions.
Ever since the vague origins of human morality, a categorically unanswered question has always been raised: is it ethical to do wrong for the right reasons and vice versa. Many philosophers have pondered over this question – Plato to Bentham, the Rigveda to Metaphysics of Morality. Many have professed their own perspectives, and yet human society has never rigidly followed any. At different points of time, in different situations, in different places, we have followed a wholly diverse set of morals. However, most philosophers have placed forth their theories believing, like theoretical physicists, in the vacuum-isolated perfection of the world. For example, how can a person be expected to perform a felicific calculation, as suggested by Bentham, for every action they take, the variables themselves being open to a great level of personal discretion and manipulation? In lieu of these facts, to develop the moral answer to this question, one must compare these theories with the empirical b