orthogonal
Registered Senior Member
"In 1967 a military coup in Greece installed an incompetent but ruthless junta. For the next seven years the government attempted to maintain itself in power through the use of torture. Youths were selected (not on the basis of their sadism) from the regular army and subjected to months of brutal training in which they were beaten and humiliated. At the end of their training they were given uniforms and suddenly treated with respect. They were the new security police and they were expected to torture and murder. Almost all of them did so. When the junta failed many of these men were arrested.
But it wasn't their fault that they had been selected. They were no better or worse (apparently so) than anyone else. The fact that nearly everyone chosen went on to torture and kill tells us that anyone of us might do the same if we had been selected. So, how could we judge a man for something we probably would have been guilty of? Aren't we blaming them for being unlucky enough to have been at the wrong place at the wrong time?"
Piers Benn, Ethics
I've little doubt that all of us could remember past situations in which our negligence might have resulted in a tragedy. For example, I once set my little brother on fire in a "chemistry experiment" gone awry. Only his heavy winter overcoat saved him from having been badly burned. I've mentioned before in this forum how at summer camp I once shot an arrow just over a target and struck a young woman (standing behind the target) in the arm. Had I aimed that arrow a half-a-degree further to the left I would have buried the arrow in her heart. While driving I've often taken my eyes off the road to retrieve something that had fallen under the seat, etc. Had a child just so happened to cross in front of my car while I was looking down, well...I doubt if I could today live with my guilt.
Kant says that in each of these cases my culpability doesn't rest with the contingency of the situation. He'd say I had a duty to: keep my brother away from that container of flammable acetone, to look behind the target before I loosed my arrow and to always keep my eyes on the road. It's clear that in each of these cases I failed in my duty. Should I go out to the barn and hang myself because of what I might have done? What of the young Greeks conscripted at random into the above mentioned torture brigade? If you or I had been selected to receive the same brutal training, statistics suggest that we'd have acted just as badly. If that's the case, shouldn't we all go out to the barn to hang ourselves? Kant wrote:
"Out of the crooked timber of humanity no straight thing was ever made."
Here Kant recognizes the imperfection of humanity, that it's perfectly human to be imperfect. The expectation that even the best of us might never fail in our moral duty appears to be entirely supererogatory. But if we were to agree up-front that we're all imperfect, wouldn't this inextricably complicate the assignation of blame when when things go horribly wrong? How does luck enter into our concept of moral responsibility?
Michael
But it wasn't their fault that they had been selected. They were no better or worse (apparently so) than anyone else. The fact that nearly everyone chosen went on to torture and kill tells us that anyone of us might do the same if we had been selected. So, how could we judge a man for something we probably would have been guilty of? Aren't we blaming them for being unlucky enough to have been at the wrong place at the wrong time?"
Piers Benn, Ethics
I've little doubt that all of us could remember past situations in which our negligence might have resulted in a tragedy. For example, I once set my little brother on fire in a "chemistry experiment" gone awry. Only his heavy winter overcoat saved him from having been badly burned. I've mentioned before in this forum how at summer camp I once shot an arrow just over a target and struck a young woman (standing behind the target) in the arm. Had I aimed that arrow a half-a-degree further to the left I would have buried the arrow in her heart. While driving I've often taken my eyes off the road to retrieve something that had fallen under the seat, etc. Had a child just so happened to cross in front of my car while I was looking down, well...I doubt if I could today live with my guilt.
Kant says that in each of these cases my culpability doesn't rest with the contingency of the situation. He'd say I had a duty to: keep my brother away from that container of flammable acetone, to look behind the target before I loosed my arrow and to always keep my eyes on the road. It's clear that in each of these cases I failed in my duty. Should I go out to the barn and hang myself because of what I might have done? What of the young Greeks conscripted at random into the above mentioned torture brigade? If you or I had been selected to receive the same brutal training, statistics suggest that we'd have acted just as badly. If that's the case, shouldn't we all go out to the barn to hang ourselves? Kant wrote:
"Out of the crooked timber of humanity no straight thing was ever made."
Here Kant recognizes the imperfection of humanity, that it's perfectly human to be imperfect. The expectation that even the best of us might never fail in our moral duty appears to be entirely supererogatory. But if we were to agree up-front that we're all imperfect, wouldn't this inextricably complicate the assignation of blame when when things go horribly wrong? How does luck enter into our concept of moral responsibility?
Michael