Should we hold our ancestors to the moral standards of today? Or should judgment of anyone from the past be withheld categorically?

These questions are part of an ongoing debate surrounding the question of historical morality. Sometimes, it is professional athletes and celebrities campaigning for the removal of statues of slave-owning Founding Fathers like George Washington or Andrew Jackson. Other times, it is activist groups protesting against the “murderer” Christopher Columbus’ celebration on Oct. 12 . In all cases, some seem to think the moral standards which govern our lives today are applicable across time; others disagree.

This is a tricky puzzle. If you regard morality as deontological and transcending, right is right, and wrong is wrong no matter when you are born. If, however, you view it as a product of one’s own time, then it is challenging to morally condemn an individual born in 1750, when slavery was regarded as ethically okay, legally permissible, and widely practiced (even by African slave owners).

I believe that somewhere between these two poles, a reasonable position lies.

On one side, there is a shortsighted aspect to claiming absolute moral superiority and forfeiting all historical context. Of course, slavery was always morally despicable, even when enforced by law and widely condoned. But should the judgment of an individual born within slavery’s heyday and one born today be the same? I don’t believe so, simply because most of our morality comes from our environment, and an individual born in a pro-slavery environment can’t be discerned from his or her environment.

On the other, the question of historical relevance could be brought forth in defense of the indefensible. If we fully adopt the view that morality is entirely and uniquely a product of one’s own time, then we forfeit the ability to draw a permanent line in the sand between good and evil. This launches us into dangerous territory and dismisses the progressive advances we seem to make with each passing generation.

So, where should the line between historical contextualization and transcending morality be drawn? I believe each case must be determined individually.

Some of the historical individuals targeted by this reviewed morality include Thomas Jefferson, George Washington, Andrew Jackson, Christopher Columbus, and most recently, Laura Ingalls Wilder, author of Little House on the Prairie. The judges of today accuse them of racism, discrimination, and imperialism. Because of these alleged crimes, their works are promptly disqualified from modern-day discourse. Statues are brought down; university halls are rechristened; awards (as in the case of Wilder) are renamed.

It is safe to say these people did not have the same standard of equality and multiculturalism as we do today. But then again, who did? If the crimes cited above are reason enough to ban their works, we might as well start burning history books in their entirety. It is a noble and necessary effort to condemn the crimes of our past, but we must realize these crimes were the norm for all of human history. There is no past culture that had even a semblance of our current morality.

If we are barred from holding in esteem the words of John Stuart Mill because of his attitudes towards Indians and the East India Company, we lose a huge piece of the liberal doctrine which makes our inclusive and multicultural environment possible. Yes, Mill probably did have questionable views on Indians, but his thoughts on individualism and classical liberalism directly contradict his personal beliefs. In a way, his works prove him wrong. And it is only because of the environment he, Jefferson, and Washington created that we now have the luxury to look back and judge the misgivings of their imperfect characters.

This goes to what I believe to be the necessary separation between the art and the artist. Individuals are flawed, and prisoners of their generations. But the wisdom of some of these men and women is not. It transcends and illuminates well beyond their generation, which is why they remain relevant.

It is absolutely necessary to remember these crimes, of course. But when reading On Liberty, one simply cannot not be awed by the tolerance, inclusivity, and yearning for freedom for all in its pages. The artist is flawed; the art is not.

Or upon reading Louis-Ferdinand Celine’s Journey to the End of the Night, the genius of the writing is evident; the words transcend and amaze millions to this day. Yet, Celine was a vicious anti-Semite. If one puts himself on a moral high-horse, condemning the writer before even seeing the writing, you reduce the imperfect work to its imperfect author, and forbid yourself the beauty of the work before having contemplated it.

The distinction between art and artist must be made if we are to reconcile our morality to the words and deeds of the past. We need to be able to draw on the past’s positive, while having the presence of mind to shun the negative.

Louis Sarkozy is a contributor to the Washington Examiner's Beltway Confidential blog. He is a student in philosophy and religion at New York University. He is the youngest son of former French President Nicolas Sarkozy.