In a small, peaceful plot of land, Prudence is busy at work, sowing seeds for the next crop, when she sees two strangers approach. As they come closer, Prudence notices that one of them is carrying a gun.
Stranger: Good day. My name is Justine, and this is Peter. We’ve come here to ask for your help.
Prudence: I see, and how can I help?
Justine: Peter needs food, and I’ve been told you have a surplus. I’m here to ask if you could share some of your food with him.
Prudence: I see… What if I refuse?
Justine: Well, in that case, I will have to use force; it’s not fair that you have a surplus and this person dies of hunger.
Prudence: And is it fair that you use force? How about asking for help without guns?
In this ordinary situation, we might sympathise with Prudence. Justine claims to be acting morally, but she is prepared to commit a crime, that of killing or wounding Prudence with a gun if she does not comply.
However, imagine that Justine wears a special suit and a badge, says that she is ‘the police’, and that it is written in ‘the law’ that Prudence has an obligation to give food to Peter, who has a ‘right’ to eat. In this case, we might begin to think differently, even though nothing has changed in reality, only words, clothes and their symbolic meaning.
Indeed, this interaction encapsulates the traditional roles of government (Justine), producers (Prudence), and citizens (Peter). Justine’s possession of a gun represents the ‘social contract’, where citizens grant authority to the government to enforce laws and regulations that meet collective needs. These needs are represented by Peter’s hunger, while Prudence represents the producers, who have resources and skills to fulfil them.
This scenario outlines a fundamental dilemma: are governments justified? Is Justine justified in using a gun against Prudence to help someone in need?
I believe they are not, and the reason is found in Prudence’s feelings, which is what I call ethics.
Justine’s ability to hold a gun against Prudence is a fundamental injustice, greater than the injustice of not feeding someone who’s dying of hunger. Peter’s support of this measure questions a citizen’s honesty and character: when we need help, we do not trust someone who chooses farming as a job, but we trust someone who chooses intimidation? Let’s imagine the roles changed and Justine was the farmer: would Justine be willing to share her surplus with Peter, or would we have to intimidate her? Would Peter share his surplus?
Any logical and coherent answer would have to admit that Prudence is willing to help a hungry Peter, if only they asked her honestly and peacefully. Likewise, Peter should not find himself in that situation, except by accident or bad luck; Peter would prefer to exchange his production or labour for Prudence’s food, rather than begging for it. For her part, Justine could help them produce even more food to prevent tragic situations, instead of going around with a gun intimidating people.
Unfortunately, though, we are born and grow up in a world where the gun is hidden beneath a guise of virtue and necessity. Adult human beings do not believe in our own goodness. Like a Prudence who resigns herself to paying taxes, we believe ourselves to be sinners who need intimidation and punishment to be morally good. However, deep down we know that those who punish us and lie about our nature have been, and continue to be, the cause of our problems.