Jesus showed by example that it is better to be killed than it is to kill.
OK, but remember, in the example the people are hiding from the soldiers. They don't want to be killed. If they wanted to be an example, they didn't have to hide and would just wait like lambs for the slaughter.Jesus didn't necessarily want to be killed either, yet he submitted to it. One can take active measures to avoid being killed and yet submit to it after all past a certain point, which might include coming across an ethical dilemma that can't easily be resolved.
Jesus didn't necessarily want to be killed either, yet he submitted to it.
One can take active measures to avoid being killed and yet submit to it after all past a certain point, which might include coming across an ethical dilemma that can't easily be resolved. For the record, I am not a Christian, yet I think one can still admire and learn from Jesus's life and teachings.
How about putting a hand on the baby's mouth? I think there's probably more than one way to keep the baby quiet without having to kill him/her.
These questions are really asking us if we feel comfortable deciding who lives and dies. And my answer to that is, no, I am not comfortable deciding that. And in every scenario given the outcome is predetermined. If you don't smother the baby everyone will die. But in real life you could not be sure of the final outcome. The baby could stop crying on its own in the nick of time, or even if the baby's cries did reveal the location of those in hidding, the soldiers still may not kill everyone. How could you be sure that they would? And the five people standing in front of the runaway trolley could see it at the last minute and get out of the way.
Gary
These questions are really asking us if we feel comfortable deciding who lives and dies. And my answer to that is, no, I am not comfortable deciding that. And in every scenario given the outcome is predetermined. If you don't smother the baby everyone will die. But in real life you could not be sure of the final outcome. The baby could stop crying on its own in the nick of time, or even if the baby's cries did reveal the location of those in hidding, the soldiers still may not kill everyone. How could you be sure that they would? And the five people standing in front of the runaway trolley could see it at the last minute and get out of the way.
Gary
Don't worry, Janice. It was only a quiz. It's very unlikely that you'd ever have to make a choice like that.
But I'm not sure I agree with you about the leader/follower thing. Like I said, I can't imagine myself killing the baby. But I'm not a follower. I think I've demonstrated that. ;D But I'm not a leader either. I'm an individual.
Gary
.Its the same as where the people ask if it wont be a immoral world without religion telling everyone how to be moral...
Tragic as this scenario truly is, it should be remembered that for some people this is not just a "scenario." There are those who have actually lived through situations such as this and they've had to make equally difficult decisions in the process. The Holocaust comes to mind immediately. But there are lots of other such situations from more recent years. We are so fortunate to live within affluent, pluralist, egalitarian, democratic societies, where it is unlikely we will ever be confronted with a dilemma such as this, other than in the abstract.
My initial response to this scenario was, "Yep, sure, I'd do it. After all, the baby's dead either way." It wasn't a difficult question to answer for me initially, in the abstract. I'm a gay male who has never had much contact with, nor empathy for babies. Easy-peasy, I thought. I just saved all those lives, mine included!
And then something strange happened in the hours after I'd participated in the exercise. To start with, I couldn't get it out of my mind. Then I started to have empathetic feelings for the baby (a first for me). I could feel the warmth of its body in my hands as I smothered it and could feel the child's heart cease beating as I snuffed out its life. I tried to rationalize my decision/actions. I imagined the baby was female, not male. I imagined that the baby was very ugly or even disfigured. My imagination was obviously in hyperdrive and trying to make me feel better about killing a baby who I rationalized would never grow-up to be desirable or worthwhile (my shallow, mercenary reasoning even shocked myself). All this seemed to be emerging from deep within my subconscious, without "me" giving it any conscious consideration (is this making any sense?).
My initial, cavalier decision came back to bite me big time. It was a decision I initially made with ready ease, thinking it was what was best for the group. What came afterwards was guilt, shame, doubt and self-loathing.
This is too hard for me! I'm off to bed!
Didn't y'all see the final episode of M*A*S*H?
From David:
For some reason this is making me think about the terrible plane wreck up in the Andes mountains back in the 1970's. I'm sure you all are familiar with this. The survivors of the wreck were forced to eat the dead. Remember that? This is another one of those "could I do it?" scenarios.
Didn't y'all see the final episode of M*A*S*H?
ok. so you live. What kind of life would you have? The thought of killing an innocent to allow myself to live is not a choice I would make....rationalizing that you are saving OTHER people is just that a rationalization. In the end if you are truthful with yourself, that is what you are doing...thinking only of yourself.
given the scenario without being given the options, I would never have thought of smothering a baby....but I have found lately that I am in the minority with my freakishly backwater sense of morality
For some reason this is making me think about the terrible plane wreck up in the Andes mountains back in the 1970's. I'm sure you all are familiar with this. The survivors of the wreck were forced to eat the dead. Remember that? This is another one of those "could I do it?" scenarios.
I don't think I could. But I suppose one never really knows for certain until they are faced with something like this. It's a chilling thought.
This very same thing happened to the Donner party in the 1800's. I think it happened in Colorado.
So while I think there's a good argument to be made for smothering the baby -- there may be plenty of other children in the group, for instance -- I'm not sure I could do it myself. BTW, though, I don't agree that this is a purely selfish act. I know this because I would NOT smother the baby if were JUST ME and the baby, thereby saving only my own life (even if the baby were not mine).
Eating dead people is a heckuva lot easier decision to make than smothering a live baby or giving up others to be killed in your stead.
For some reason this is making me think about the terrible plane wreck up in the Andes mountains back in the 1970's. I'm sure you all are familiar with this. The survivors of the wreck were forced to eat the dead. Remember that? This is another one of those "could I do it?" scenarios.
I don't think I could. But I suppose one never really knows for certain until they are faced with something like this. It's a chilling thought.
This very same thing happened to the Donner party in the 1800's. I think it happened in Colorado.
I'm familiar with the story of Beloved, and I personally think that Sethe made the right decision, for her, given the situation.
Gary
So it doesn't matter that the baby is dead either way? Except if you don't smother it - you're dead too. What good came out of that situation? How is not smothering the baby any better?
Beloved may be based originally on some true historical story, but the Toni Morrison novel from which it was adapted is fictional. And the tragedy is that, in the story, Sethe DOES escape from slavery not long after killing her baby, Beloved. Then she has another daughter, I think (I'm going from 15-year-old memory). So when Beloved comes back to haunt them, she seems to kind of metaphorically represent Sethe's conscience, or perhaps on a larger scale, the legacy of slavery.
I think the most important thing for all of us to remember is the movie and the message. It is a lesson in morality, and I think most of us agree that Sethe was probably without fault in trying to protect her children from slavery using the only means available in order to do so. :'(
I beg to differ, Katherine. I remember Oprah talking about this while she was promoting the movie Beloved. She said it really happened.
Beloved was inspired by the true story of a black American slave woman, Margaret Garner. She escaped with her husband Robert from a Kentucky plantation, and sought refuge in Ohio. When the slave masters overcame them, she killed her baby, in order to save the child from the slavery she had managed to escape. Morrison later told that "I thought at first it couldn't be written, but I was annoyed and worried that such a story was inaccessible to art." The protagonist, Sethe, tries to kill her children but is successful only in murdering the unnamed infant, "Beloved." The name is written on the child's tombstone, Sethe did not have enough money to pay for the text ''Dearly Beloved.'' Sethe's house, where she lives with her teenage daughter, Denver, is haunted by the dead baby daughter. "Who would have thought that a little old baby could harbor so much rage?" Sethe thinks.
Morrison later used Margaret Garner's life story again in an opera, "Margaret Garner," with music by Richard Danielpour. In May 2006, The New York Times Book Review named Beloved the best American novel published in the previous twenty five years.
I was going to say I totally agreed with you, Scott, until I got to your last sentence. I don't think eating flesh (in the absence of murder) is inherently immoral. But I do find it repugnant. I would guess that, to some extent, an abhorrence for eating human flesh is hardwired into us.I meant to imply that I don't find the ritual of communion repugnant, either approached symbolically or taken literally from the standpoint of transubstantiation. I have taken communion myself at various times (in situations where I thought it would be awkward to refuse it), though I do not profess to be a Christian.
Or were you saying only that you don't find the Christian communion ritual repugnant? I guess I could agree with that, partly because I don't take it literally. But -- and I hope those of you who are Christians will forgive me for saying this -- I do find it a little weird.
I meant to imply that I don't find the ritual of communion repugnant, either approached symbolically or taken literally from the standpoint of transubstantiation. I have taken communion myself at various times (in situations where I thought it would be awkward to refuse it), though I do not profess to be a Christian.
Arousing disgust or aversion; offensive or repulsive: morally repugnant behavior.
I beg to differ, Katherine. I remember Oprah talking about this while she was promoting the movie Beloved. She said it really happened. Now, perhaps this was some sort of cheap Hollywood gimmick. I always understood it to be true and factual.
On the one hand you have the Europeans who think they're so high and mighty, and then you have the Native Americans who, after learning about this cornerstone of Christianity, think those nasty white people are cannibals.
If one has not fulfilled all or any of the requirements leading up to the taking of communion at Mass, it is my personal opinion that it is not appropriate to do so.
she merely replied, "But I poop Him out again." ;D
A relative of mine fits all that RC criteria. When I brought up the issue of transubstantiation and how kinda gross that sounded, she merely replied, "But I poop Him out again." ;D
Sorta puts it all in perspective, doesn't it?
I remember in pre-Vatican II days, what a lot of fuss there was if the priest dropped the host whilst giving communion. In those days, the host was placed directly onto the outstretched tongue of the communicant by the priest. If the priest dropped the host en route (I guess that should be "Host"), a special little ornate silver dustpan and broom was brought out and the priest (only a priest could do it) would pick up the host and then ceremoniously brush the area where the host had fallen, just incase particles of the Sacred Personage had fallen off, when it (He?!) hit the floor. The priest then had to consume (yes, consume!) the contents of the dustpan! Fortunately, the good ladies of the parish always kept the church squeaky clean, so there was no dust in the dustpan - only bodyparts! ;) :laugh:
Sorta puts it all in perspective, doesn't it? :-\
I remember in pre-Vatican II days, what a lot of fuss there was if the priest dropped the host whilst giving communion. In those days, the host was placed directly onto the outstretched tongue of the communicant by the priest. If the priest dropped the host en route (I guess that should be "Host"), a special little ornate silver dustpan and broom was brought out and the priest (only a priest could do it) would pick up the host and then ceremoniously brush the area where the host had fallen, just incase particles of the Sacred Personage had fallen off, when it (He?!) hit the floor. The priest then had to consume (yes, consume!) the contents of the dustpan! Fortunately, the good ladies of the parish always kept the church squeaky clean, so there was no dust in the dustpan - only bodyparts! ;) :laugh:
Sorta puts it all in perspective, doesn't it? :-\
I remember in pre-Vatican II days, what a lot of fuss there was if the priest dropped the host whilst giving communion. In those days, the host was placed directly onto the outstretched tongue of the communicant by the priest. If the priest dropped the host en route (I guess that should be "Host"), a special little ornate silver dustpan and broom was brought out and the priest (only a priest could do it) would pick up the host and then ceremoniously brush the area where the host had fallen, just incase particles of the Sacred Personage had fallen off, when it (He?!) hit the floor. The priest then had to consume (yes, consume!) the contents of the dustpan! Fortunately, the good ladies of the parish always kept the church squeaky clean, so there was no dust in the dustpan - only bodyparts! ;) :laugh:
The answer to this question was that a good and pious priest would consume the host and vomit, since the vomit still contained the Body and Blood of Christ. I think I remember them telling us the transubstantiation lasted around 20 to 30 minutes after the host was consumed.
I remember discussing this in Catholic grade school during my altar boy classes (yes, we had to take classes before we became altar boys). The question came up on what the priest should do if for some reason the communion recipient vomited up the host when giving Communion outside the church building. The answer to this question was that a good and pious priest would consume the host and vomit, since the vomit still contained the Body and Blood of Christ. I think I remember them telling us the transubstantiation lasted around 20 to 30 minutes after the host was consumed. Once digested it changed back to regular bread. Isn't that disgusting? But at our church we had a vessel in the sacristy (called a sacrarium. It looked like a sink. I THINK that was the name. Help me with this Kerry, if you know the answer) where any remnants of the host and wine could be deposited in a respectful and dignified manner.
Wow. A friend once told me she was on an airplane when a passenger vomited all over the place. When the flight attendant showed up, she said, "I can't handle this!" flung up her hands and walked away.
That would be me, as the priest in this scenario. That would be the point at which I'd rip off my collar, say "I can't handle this!" and walk away, giving up my vows forever.
I do remember there being a sink in the sacristy, David, but I do not remember a specifically designated, separate sink, exclusively for the purpose you describe. But that could just be my memory failing me haha. I seem to remember that (in Australia, anyway) the cleaning-up was done by the priest immediately after he returned to the altar, after the communion was distributed. At that time, he would empty into the chalice any rogue crumbs left over from the little tray that was placed under the chins of the communicants. This wine dregs and wafer crumbs mix was then consumed by the priest. He would then swill water around in the chalice and drink this water/wine mix, after which he would dry the chalice with a little linen cloth. Theoretically, because there was still an outside possibility that there could still be some remaining Divine Blood adhering to this little cloth, all such altar linen was carefully packaged and sent off to the local convent, to be laundered by the good nuns. From what I remember, that's how it was done in Oz. :D
As soon as I got close enough to smell it, my own gorge rose and I turned right around and went to the kitchen and took over for my sister so she could do it. Even as a parent I wouldn't be able to handle it. Ick! :P
Even as a parent, I found my kids' puke gross. What I did get perfectly used to, though, was poop. Changing one's own child's diapers is not necessarily fun, but it's not repugnant. I guess maybe that explains dog owners, whose ability to pick up dog poop I've had a hard time understanding. Apparently if you love somebody enough ...
What unexpected twists and turns this thread has taken! ::) It's like one of those gross-out quizzes. Would you rather:
1) Kill a baby
2) Eat human flesh
3) Deal with (or consume!) someone else's puke
4) Change a poopy diaper
Hmmm ...
That would be me, as the priest in this scenario. That would be the point at which I'd rip off my collar, say "I can't handle this!" and walk away, giving up my vows forever.
From Della:
As soon as I got close enough to smell it, my own gorge rose and I turned right around and went to the kitchen and took over for my sister so she could do it. Even as a parent I wouldn't be able to handle it. Ick!
I remember discussing this in Catholic grade school during my altar boy classes (yes, we had to take classes before we became altar boys). The question came up on what the priest should do if for some reason the communion recipient vomited up the host when giving Communion outside the church building. The answer to this question was that a good and pious priest would consume the host and vomit, since the vomit still contained the Body and Blood of Christ. I think I remember them telling us the transubstantiation lasted around 20 to 30 minutes after the host was consumed. Once digested it changed back to regular bread. Isn't that disgusting? But at our church we had a vessel in the sacristy (called a sacrarium. It looked like a sink. I THINK that was the name. Help me with this Kerry, if you know the answer) where any remnants of the host and wine could be deposited in a respectful and dignified manner.
Hey David and Kerry that extra little "sink" in the Sacistry is callled a Pisena. It has a long pipe that goes deep into the ground because consecrated wine and crumbs, i.e. the body&blood of Christ, cannot be poured into the sewer. It must be consumed or disposed of naturally on the ground. If consecrated bread and wine are poured into the Pisena then it must be flushed twice with a pitcher of holy water. Amazing the things you pick up in life ;)
After hearing about priests eating someone else's vomit -- even eating your own would be outragous in my book -- somehow killing babies doesn't seem all that repulsive after all. :-\
Oh, and just to clear things up about the communion thing. It's true that Catholics do not want you to take communion out of politeness. But, as I understand it, Anglicans and Episcopalians don't mind. I'm also pretty sure that they view the Eucharist as symboic and not litteral. I went to an Episcopal church for a few months when I was in college, and those people were pretty wishy-washy about their principals. It was like Catholicism with a wink and a nod. I just can't imagine them taking a communion waffer that seriously. I was told flat out that I didn't have to profess to anything before taking communion. But the church I went to was attended mostly by a bunch of college profs and their families, so maybe this was not a typical setup.
I was very young when I tried out that church. But now that I'm a little older, and my knees are gone, and I have hernias, and I'm balance impaired, I'm not sure I could stand the athletic rigors of an Episcopal service. You have to stand up at certain parts, then kneel, then set, then stand up again. It was just up and down, up and down the whole time. Since I come from a Baptist background where you pretty much sit there and listen, I was a bit in awe. I didn't know if I was in church, or if I had somehow stumbled into an aerobics class. If I went now I'd have to go home and nap after.
Another part of the service I found strange was when everybody started shaking hands and wishing one another peace. As I said, these were mostly college profs and their families, and not even the English were more buttoned down and resevered than these people. There was something so forced and artifical about it, and I would sometimes want to giggle. Imagine Nancy Reagan turning to you with that big, fake smile on her face, offering you her hand, and saying peace, like she was some kind of hippie.
The sermons were complete snoozefests. The only one that I remember was about a boy walking by a fruit vender every day and steeling apples as he passed. As far as I can tell the priest was saying that it was wrong of the boy to tempt himself, and that he should have avoided the vender if he couldn't stop himself from steeling the apples as he went by. I just sat there and thought, wow!, so this is what passes for a moral dilemma around here.
The priest was kind of cute, so I found the act of getting down on my knees in front of him, and having him feed me kind of erotic. I know that's not an appropriate response, but what can I say? I'm kind of pervy I guess. I didn't much like drinking out of the same cup as everybody else though. That seemed kind of unsanitary.
Gary
Gary you are cracking me up. :laugh: :laugh: :laugh:
It was like Catholicism with a wink and a nod.
the athletic rigors of an Episcopal service. You have to stand up at certain parts, then kneel, then set, then stand up again. It was just up and down, up and down the whole time. Since I come from a Baptist background where you pretty much sit there and listen, I was a bit in awe.
The sermons were complete snoozefests. The only one that I remember was about a boy walking by a fruit vender every day and steeling apples as he passed. As far as I can tell the priest was saying that it was wrong of the boy to tempt himself, and that he should have avoided the vender if he couldn't stop himself from steeling the apples as he went by. I just sat there and thought, wow!, so this is what passes for a moral dilemma around here.
I like this description.
About 1/3 of all inhabitants in Germany belong to the roman-catholic church (another 1/3 is protestant). But I have never met anybody (at least not knowingly) who truly believes in the transubstantiation, meaning who truly believes the wafer will magically be transformed into meat.
Somehow I doubt that anybody believes it.
Back to Gary's Catholicism with a wink and a nod: that's how people live with their religion here, no matter whether we're catholic or protestant. Yes, we believe in God and Jesus Christ, yes we belong to a church - but that doesn't mean we follow every rule and every thought of some old men in Rome. We just don't take the whole religion thingie so seriously.
I have a side question regarding the wine during communion: in German RC churches, only the priest drinks from the cup. He does so representatively for all others. The churchgoers only get a wafer, but no wine. Is this different in the US (and other countries)?
If one has not fulfilled all or any of the requirements leading up to the taking of communion at Mass, it is my personal opinion that it is not appropriate to do so. And it all comes down to those four little words, "The Body of Christ." If you cannot honestly respond, "Amen," in accordance with Catholic doctrine, it is not appropriate for you to be responding, "Amen."I should note that the only communion I have ever received has been at Methodist services. The Methodist church (or at least ones at whose services I have attended) welcomes all to come forward and partake of communion. In all cases in which I have done so, I felt it would have been awkward and embarrassing to have refused. I have rationalized my experiences of communion by telling myself that I am worthy of Jesus's sacrifice, though I do not believe in the necessity (nor necessarily believe in the efficacy) of the sacrifice.
I have a side question regarding the wine during communion: in German RC churches, only the priest drinks from the cup. He does so representatively for all others. The churchgoers only get a wafer, but no wine. Is this different in the US (and other countries)?
I have a side question regarding the wine during communion: in German RC churches, only the priest drinks from the cup. He does so representatively for all others. The churchgoers only get a wafer, but no wine. Is this different in the US (and other countries)?
It is so ironic. I keep reading terrible stories about growing up catholic and it seems to be more a traumatic experience than a rewarding one! And God it is supposed to be love. I actually feel lucky my Dad is an atheist, and kept us away from all that. I apologize in advance if I offend anyone, but I had to get this off my chest. I strongly believe in freedom of Religion.I hear you, Natali, and concur. My sister and I were not raised religiously, and my father has been an atheist from even before I was born. I feel blessed to have been spared the horrors that so many have endured from religious upbringings.
I hear you, Natali, and concur. My sister and I were not raised religiously, and my father has been an atheist from even before I was born. I feel blessed to have been spared the horrors that so many have endured from religious upbringings.
Baptists believe people sin all the time, and even the small stuff can land you in hell forever. If the preacher at our church had given a sermon about a boy stealing apples he'd shout at us, and scold us severly, and point an accusing finger, and say over and over and over again, at the very top of his lungs, that according to the Word of God stealing is a sin. And he'd warn us about hellfire licking and burning our flesh for eternity. But there is an escape to all of this. If you repent, you are immediately let off the hook.
(No need for a priest to give you absolution. There are no middlemen in the Baptist faith. It's just you and God. And how you stand with him is between you and him. Not even the preacher has anything to say about that...So if you're a Baptist you can kill the baby, but so long as you feel sorry after, it's okay.
I was raised as a Baptist. My mother was one, my grandparents were also. My father was a Catholic.
I dont remember the horrid hell fire and damnation speeches much though. They were mostly the guilt ridden, "come to me type."
I do however remember the communion. There was this huge round tray, with a bowl in the
middle on which they placed the crackers or wafers. Then surrounding that in tiny little vials,, or cups
about the amt of a teaspoonful, were the filled wine cups...we were handed the wafers, and took our own
cup, drank the liquid and then replaced it in its own little round slot. That seems a lot more sanitary to me.
That is the only way I ever took communion... The place that made those, must have quit making them..
*snip*
P.S. I know there are kinder and gentler Baptists out there. The church I attended was in the hills of West Virginia, and this was in the late 60's and early 70's. So I found the whole Ted Haggard thing really shocking. I just can't imagine a preacher who hires rent boys and does drugs in his spare time. Maybe it's time for me to go back to church. ;D
Well, in the Roman Catholic faith there are some conditions which must be met before you are forgiven by God.
In order for a confession to be valid:
1.You must confess ALL your sins since your last Confession. If you happen to forget some during Confession, it's okay, but you must make a sincere and honest attempt to confess them all.
2. You must be sincerely sorry for your sins. Only you and God knows if you are truly sorry or not. If you are not sorry, you are wasting both your time and the priest's time in the confessional. The priest absolves you, but it is GOD who forgives you.
3. You must try to NEVER commit these sins again.
4. You must do your penance. I remember when I was a kid, the priest would give much larger penances. 10 rosaries, 20 Our Fathers, 20 Hail Mary's, etc.. The last time I went to Confession, the priest gave me 2 Our Fathers and 2 Hail Marys for my penance. That was it! Back in the old days, they would make the penitent stand outside the church covered in ashes. Things have changed since then.
A relative of mine fits all that RC criteria. When I brought up the issue of transubstantiation and how kinda gross that sounded, she merely replied, "But I poop Him out again." ;D
I know. But then, as philosopher Peter Singer always reminds us, many starving or sick people could be saved on what regular old middle class people spend on normal everyday luxuries.
One of his famous dilemmas: You see a chlid standing on a train track with a train bearing down. You could save her, but to do so you'd have to leave your $25,200 2008 Toyota Camry Hybrid on the tracks and have it totalled. Would you save the child anyway? Just about everyone would say, of course.
Well then, he responds, how can you spend $25,200 on a 2008 Toyota Camry Hybrid, knowing that by doing so you are spending money that could otherwise be used to save countless starving or sick children?
I don't own a car, and I don't drive. So I know how difficult it is to get around without one. I imagine that it would be very hard to find and hold down a good job if you lived in a rural area without a reliable car, since you wouldn't have any public transportation to turn to. So if you gave up your car for charity, you might become a charity case yourself, and that certainly wouldn't solve any problems.
But the real point of this question may be how can you spend money on anything you can do without when you know there are needy people in the world? I don't have a lot of money, but I do spend some of it on things I don't really need in order to sustain my life. But books and movies and the internet, and little things like an attractive and comfortable sofa, etc., ...these things do sustain my spirit. I do believe that I would be miserable if I lived in a shanty, slept on a mat on the bare ground, and ate nothing but beans. I might get some satisfaction knowing I was able to give a few hundred dollars a month to charity, but still I'd be pretty depressed, and I'd likely soon lose my humanity and desire to help anyone. I might even lose my desire to live.
I spoke of how I believe that morality flows from love -- love in the greater theological sense, not emotion -- back in the death penalty thread. One of the things I learned while studying this form of ethics in school is that love comes from a possition of strength. You must first love yourself before you can love anyone else. And althought there are some saintly people who could love themselves and still force themselves to live in a shanty and eat beans, most of us couldn't do that without hating ourselves, and in short order we'd be hating the rest of the world, too. And no charity would flow from that.
Gary
And I'd like to point out that even if you don't have a lot of money to give away -- I don't -- you can still help people by offering them kindness and understanding. This has a ripple effect and it might end up helping someone who doesn't have the basic necessities. Like the boy in your story, his concern for an individual starfish might cause the man who questioned the efficacy of saving a few starfish when thousands were likely to die to view things differently. And he in turn may decide that it's worth at least doing what he can, even if it is a drop in the bucket. Isn't a full bucket made up of a multitude of drops? Doesn't someone have to start somewhere?
Be good to yourself. Give yourself what you need to sustain your life, and be happy. Then do something for someone else. :D
Gary
Hi Del,
Thanks for this. This is just what I was trying to get it. You're not likely to help anyone by treating yourself like trash.
I have read Out of Africa, but I don't recall the quote that you refer to. Maybe I didn't notice it, or it's slipped my mind, or maybe it's from something else that she wrote. In any event, it's a great point.
I think Virginia Woolf made a very similar point in A Room Of One's Own. We don't need anything extragant, but we do need the space and the freedome that comes from some amount of affluence in order to create. If I recall she was writing specifically about how women need to have some amount of independence from men in order to be themselves. But the same principal is true for all of us. If our possition in the world isn't relatively secure then we won't have much time to even think about someone else's needs, much less have the desire to reach out.
Gary
P.S. I just wanted to add that I'm sorry if I offended anyone with my comments. I didn't meant to be insensitive to any Catholics, or former Catholics here. :)
Thanks for that infromation, Kerry. But a priest can deny to hear your confession or give you absolution, right? And wouldn't these things, in a Catholic's view keep you from going to heaven when you die?
Gary
Oh and to add, although I don't know anyone personally that was involved directly in ther holocaust (My sisters ex grandad in law had his number tattoed on to his arm but I never met him and apprently he never EVER talked about it and she never saw that number) but having visited Auswitch - I had a very VERY strong emotional reaction to it - as most people do. If you have such a strong reactyion to it 60 years later, imagine what you felt to actually be there.
I recently read a wonderful quote, Kelda, that had me in tears. Apparently it stands at the entrance to one of the concentration camps:"When they came for the Communists, I did not say
anything, for you see I was not a Communist.
When they came for the trade unionists I did not speak up,
because I was not a trade unionist.
When they came for the Jews, I did not protest, because
I was not a Jew.
And when they came for the homosexuals, I remained silent,
because I am not a homosexual.
Now they come for me, there is no one left to speak for me."
I know. But then, as philosopher Peter Singer always reminds us, many starving or sick people could be saved on what regular old middle class people spend on normal everyday luxuries.
One of his famous dilemmas: You see a chlid standing on a train track with a train bearing down. You could save her, but to do so you'd have to leave your $25,200 2008 Toyota Camry Hybrid on the tracks and have it totalled. Would you save the child anyway? Just about everyone would say, of course.
Well then, he responds, how can you spend $25,200 on a 2008 Toyota Camry Hybrid, knowing that by doing so you are spending money that could otherwise be used to save countless starving or sick children?
That's just one of those rhetorical philosophical statements. $25K isn't going to stop children from being sick or from starving.
In order for that to happen, entire governments need to change, people's values need to change and populations need to be educated
Philosophers like Liam Murphy of New York University and my colleague Kwame Anthony Appiah at Princeton ... calculate how much would be required to ensure that the world’s poorest people have a chance at a decent life, and then divide this sum among the affluent.
... What might that fair amount be? One way of calculating it would be to take as our target, at least for the next nine years, the Millennium Development Goals, set by the United Nations Millennium Summit in 2000. On that occasion, the largest gathering of world leaders in history jointly pledged to meet, by 2015, a list of goals that include:
Reducing by half the proportion of the world’s people in extreme poverty (defined as living on less than the purchasing-power equivalent of one U.S. dollar per day).
Reducing by half the proportion of people who suffer from hunger.
Ensuring that children everywhere are able to take a full course of primary schooling.
Ending sex disparity in education.
Reducing by two-thirds the mortality rate among children under 5.
Reducing by three-quarters the rate of maternal mortality.
Halting and beginning to reverse the spread of H.I.V./AIDS and halting and beginning to reduce the incidence of malaria and other major diseases.
Reducing by half the proportion of people without sustainable access to safe drinking water.
Last year a United Nations task force, led by the Columbia University economist Jeffrey Sachs, estimated the annual cost of meeting these goals to be $121 billion in 2006, rising to $189 billion by 2015. When we take account of existing official development aid promises, the additional amount needed each year to meet the goals is only $48 billion for 2006 and $74 billion for 2015.
Now let’s look at the incomes of America’s rich and superrich, and ask how much they could reasonably give. The task is made easier by statistics recently provided by Thomas Piketty and Emmanuel Saez, economists at the École Normale Supérieure, Paris-Jourdan, and the University of California, Berkeley, respectively, based on U.S. tax data for 2004. Their figures are for pretax income, excluding income from capital gains, which for the very rich are nearly always substantial. For simplicity I have rounded the figures, generally downward. Note too that the numbers refer to “tax units,” that is, in many cases, families rather than individuals.
Piketty and Saez’s top bracket comprises 0.01 percent of U.S. taxpayers. There are 14,400 of them, earning an average of $12,775,000, with total earnings of $184 billion. The minimum annual income in this group is more than $5 million, so it seems reasonable to suppose that they could, without much hardship, give away a third of their annual income, an average of $4.3 million each, for a total of around $61 billion. That would still leave each of them with an annual income of at least $3.3 million.
Next comes the rest of the top 0.1 percent (excluding the category just described, as I shall do henceforth). There are 129,600 in this group, with an average income of just over $2 million and a minimum income of $1.1 million. If they were each to give a quarter of their income, that would yield about $65 billion, and leave each of them with at least $846,000 annually.
The top 0.5 percent consists of 575,900 taxpayers, with an average income of $623,000 and a minimum of $407,000. If they were to give one-fifth of their income, they would still have at least $325,000 each, and they would be giving a total of $72 billion.
Coming down to the level of those in the top 1 percent, we find 719,900 taxpayers with an average income of $327,000 and a minimum of $276,000. They could comfortably afford to give 15 percent of their income. That would yield $35 billion and leave them with at least $234,000.
Finally, the remainder of the nation’s top 10 percent earn at least $92,000 annually, with an average of $132,000. There are nearly 13 million in this group. If they gave the traditional tithe — 10 percent of their income, or an average of $13,200 each — this would yield about $171 billion and leave them a minimum of $83,000.
You could spend a long time debating whether the fractions of income I have suggested for donation constitute the fairest possible scheme. Perhaps the sliding scale should be steeper, so that the superrich give more and the merely comfortable give less. And it could be extended beyond the Top 10 percent of American families, so that everyone able to afford more than the basic necessities of life gives something, even if it is as little as 1 percent. Be that as it may, the remarkable thing about these calculations is that a scale of donations that is unlikely to impose significant hardship on anyone yields a total of $404 billion — from just 10 percent of American families.
Obviously, the rich in other nations should share the burden of relieving global poverty. The U.S. is responsible for 36 percent of the gross domestic product of all Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development nations. Arguably, because the U.S. is richer than all other major nations, and its wealth is more unevenly distributed than wealth in almost any other industrialized country, the rich in the U.S. should contribute more than 36 percent of total global donations. So somewhat more than 36 percent of all aid to relieve global poverty should come from the U.S. For simplicity, let’s take half as a fair share for the U.S. On that basis, extending the scheme I have suggested worldwide would provide $808 billion annually for development aid. That’s more than six times what the task force chaired by Sachs estimated would be required for 2006 in order to be on track to meet the Millennium Development Goals, and more than 16 times the shortfall between that sum and existing official development aid commitments.
In an article I wrote more than three decades ago, at the time of a humanitarian emergency in what is now Bangladesh, I used the example of walking by a shallow pond and seeing a small child who has fallen in and appears to be in danger of drowning. Even though we did nothing to cause the child to fall into the pond, almost everyone agrees that if we can save the child at minimal inconvenience or trouble to ourselves, we ought to do so. Anything else would be callous, indecent and, in a word, wrong. The fact that in rescuing the child we may, for example, ruin a new pair of shoes is not a good reason for allowing the child to drown. Similarly if for the cost of a pair of shoes we can contribute to a health program in a developing country that stands a good chance of saving the life of a child, we ought to do so.
But books and movies and the internet, and little things like an attractive and comfortable sofa, etc., ...these things do sustain my spirit. I do believe that I would be miserable if I lived in a shanty, slept on a mat on the bare ground, and ate nothing but beans. I might get some satisfaction knowing I was able to give a few hundred dollars a month to charity, but still I'd be pretty depressed, and I'd likely soon lose my humanity and desire to help anyone.
Few people have set a personal example that would allow them to tell [Bill] Gates [who Singer considers an example of generous giving] that he has not given enough, but one who could is Zell Kravinsky. A few years ago, when he was in his mid-40s, Kravinsky gave almost all of his $45 million real estate fortune to health-related charities, retaining only his modest family home in Jenkintown, near Philadelphia, and enough to meet his family’s ordinary expenses. After learning that thousands of people with failing kidneys die each year while waiting for a transplant, he contacted a Philadelphia hospital and donated one of his kidneys to a complete stranger.
I was reminded of this quiz a few days ago - and for the life of me I can't not remeber what programme I was watching or what I was reading - think it may have been something about Rwanda or the likes - but it was talking about how trhis woman had been hid with her family by a local priest to stop them getting killed - and the priest had given the kids sleeping pills to keep them quiet so that they wouldn;t be discovered.
It made me think I would stalk up in such a thing should I ever be in that situation......