83

Sometimes we like to argue about moral and ethical issues. Why should we do this? Why should we not do that? In the right gathering such discussions can be useful, but too often there will be someone who argues for the “Desert Island” principle of ethics.

Should a mother hiding from the Gestapo smother her child so the child’s cries will not reveal and thus condemn many other hiding fugitives? A child darts in front of a car. Should the car driver swerve and thus hit a few bystanders or go straight and take one life rather than several? A drone operator spots an active enemy missile launcher in the middle of a residential area. The classic is the desert island dilemma. Two men are stranded on a desert island. One, very wealthy, has given the other a copy of his will in which he leaves his fortune to various humanitarian groups. One day this man is inspired to write out a new will leaving his fortune to establish a home for feral cats. He gives his new will to the other man and makes him swear he will destroy the older will and, if they are ever rescued, give his new will to the authorities. They see a rescue ship and the man dies. What should the surviving man do?

Now some will say—I have heard it—that these rare dilemmas undercut the idea of moral rules, that however unlikely they might be, that they exist at all means everything is relative. No. The examples above are irrelevant. We do not live on desert islands. We live in a busy world, and we have to decide how to spend our money, or how to deal with our neighbors, or how to be responsible citizens in a busy world. Read the Sermon On The Mountain for guidance.