There is so much argument and confusion in our divided world, I realized this morning that I’m not really sure how my conscience works and if mine is healthy or selfish or muddled.

Now that I think about it, it’s hard for me to even define what a conscience is.

Merriam-Webster defines “conscience” in this way: the sense or consciousness of the moral goodness or blameworthiness of one’s own conduct, intentions, or character together with a feeling of obligation to do right or be good.

But in a world where everything is argued, there is little consensus about truth and morality,  and there are many different ideas of what good and right and wrong really mean.

How do I know my conscience is sound?

How can I believe in it?

I collected some of the thoughts of people we think of as moral and thoughtful to see if I could get somewhere:

“There comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must take it because conscience tells him it is right.”

I like Martin Luther King’s idea about taking a position because my conscience tells me it is the right thing to do.

The most controversial thing I’ve done in a couple of years and to write openly about Donald Trump and my perspective about the election coming up. Many people agree with what I write, many disagree. Some even argue I should not be permitted to write about it all.

But I decided to do it because my conscience told me it was the right thing to do, even if my positions are neither safe nor politic nor universally popular.

I think my conscience is the voice inside of my head that tells me what is right and what is wrong. We each have that voice inside of us, we each have our own idea about what is right.

To me, conscience and truth are linked together. Facing the truth about myself and writing honestly about my life is an act of conscience.

Moral philosopher Hannah Arendt wrote that conscience is a way of feeling beyond reason and argument, and of knowing through sentiment what is right and wrong.

Such feelings exist, wrote Arendt – that people feel guilty or feel innocent – but that alas, these feelings are no reliable indications of right and wrong.

Historians and philosophers say that in ancient times, the idea of conscience did not yet exist. This changed by Christianity and Judaism and Islam. Conscience was discovered as the organ in humans who hear the voice of God instructing them on wrong and right.

Deeply religious people don’t really have to think about right and wrong, they are judged on what they are told, not on what they believe. That’s what has always kept me at some arm’s length when it comes to conscience.

Later, the idea of conscience was picked up on by secular voices like Plato and Aristotle.

“I’d much rather be in hell with God than in heaven without him,” wrote Cicero. In history, there is no greater motivator for doing good than the threat of eternal damnation.

In the realm and dogma of organized religious experience, there can’t be a conflict of conscience. The voice of God speaks clearly, the only question is whether or not the voice is obeyed.

When people support Donald Trump, for example, they do so because they believe it is the right thing. When people oppose him, it is for the same reason. So far, God has not made a clear statement about the presidential campaign.

When somebody thinks they are acting out of conscience, it’s difficult to accept that someone else acting out of conscience may be just as noble and righteous.

So it comes down to a personal mix of ideas, feelings, impulses, and teachings. Arendt pointed out that the people who carried out Nazi atrocities believed they were acting out of conscience.

Most of them thought that what they were doing was right and necessary, and moral.

So did the people who tried and executed them after the war.

Tolstoy argued that wrong does not cease to be wrong because the majority share in it.

Of all of these ideas, I most like Arendt’s idea of conscience as a  feeling. I can’t know if I am right or wrong, I can know how I feel. When something is right, it feels good.

When something is wrong, it doesn’t feel good. All I can do is listen to my heart and soul.

And I try to never assume that what I believe is good is good for everyone else.

Socrates said it is better to suffer wrong than to do wrong.

I have to like the face I see in the mirror. Conscience for me is never about what others think, it’s about what I think.

Others don’t have to like my face or idea for it to be right for me.

We all spin and justify and rationalize what we believe.  But when all is said and done, there is one universal and undeniable thing. Conscience is intensely personal and subjective.

Outside of religious dogma, I am on my own. My conscience is only as strong as my faith in it.

I have come to think that at the core, it’s as simple as that.