Oh you poor old Augustine
Evil – I'm lovin' it!
St Augustine began life as a fairly normal sort of chap and then got religion. He might've been remembered as the most fun person in history. Well, he'd probably be remembered for stealing pears and for enjoying the act rather than the fruit, which was fed to the pigs.
The dilemma in the book is whether Augustine knowingly chose to do evil when he became the Pear Tree Raider.
But this situation makes me wonder about motivation. We tend to judge people's actions in terms of the reason for that action. It's clear that we have a gradient scale where this reason is sufficient, but that reason is not. We like to know there's a good reason for something. Gustino's reason was the act itself, but this is regarded as weak motivation, and although we might disapprove of theft, we understand if there was some utilitarian purpose behind it. But Gus didn't want the pears for himself or for anyone else; he didn't even steal them for the pigs, who ended up being the accidental beneficiaries of the crime.
Yet any reason is a reason for doing something. Why demand more? My reason for showing DVDs on Fridays has always been purely selfish. It's spared me from having to teach a formal class one day of the week. But for many of you, that would be insufficient motivation and you'd insist on turning the whole thing into a lesson.[1] All right, would it help if I told you that I could think of no greater irritation when watching a film or TV programme than for some annoying person to stop it every 30 second and insist on boring you about some point of English when all you want is to see the next part of the story? If I don't want it done to me, I'm not inclined to inflict it on anyone else. Or I see no point in spending my time preparing work that will mostly never be done anyway.
Furthermore, why should my reasons for doing something be in accordance with anyone else's? Doesn't this imply that you've assumed the right to judge me? Where did that right come from? Of course, I make such judgments myself just as everyone else does. I'd also hope that except on odd occasions, my reason for doing something is sufficient.
You could say that Gustino's pears are a trivial matter, but it's what his action represents. He was enjoying being naughty for the sake of being naughty. It's like the Four Stages of Cruelty. You start with pears and the next thing you know, you're dissecting live corpses for the amusement of the Fellows of the Royal Society.
Gus wriggles out of the whole problem with some logical trickery in which he declares that the supreme good can't be corrupted; something has to have some good in it to be corrupted in the first place; therefore, evil has no substance because if it dd, it'd be good.
Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, you Pear Pilfering Pervert.
Notes.
1. I assume that your motivation is your blind enthusiasm for pedagogy and your obliviousness to alternatives. Not everything has to be about something. Sit back and enjoy the ride for once.
St Augustine began life as a fairly normal sort of chap and then got religion. He might've been remembered as the most fun person in history. Well, he'd probably be remembered for stealing pears and for enjoying the act rather than the fruit, which was fed to the pigs.
The dilemma in the book is whether Augustine knowingly chose to do evil when he became the Pear Tree Raider.
But this situation makes me wonder about motivation. We tend to judge people's actions in terms of the reason for that action. It's clear that we have a gradient scale where this reason is sufficient, but that reason is not. We like to know there's a good reason for something. Gustino's reason was the act itself, but this is regarded as weak motivation, and although we might disapprove of theft, we understand if there was some utilitarian purpose behind it. But Gus didn't want the pears for himself or for anyone else; he didn't even steal them for the pigs, who ended up being the accidental beneficiaries of the crime.
Yet any reason is a reason for doing something. Why demand more? My reason for showing DVDs on Fridays has always been purely selfish. It's spared me from having to teach a formal class one day of the week. But for many of you, that would be insufficient motivation and you'd insist on turning the whole thing into a lesson.[1] All right, would it help if I told you that I could think of no greater irritation when watching a film or TV programme than for some annoying person to stop it every 30 second and insist on boring you about some point of English when all you want is to see the next part of the story? If I don't want it done to me, I'm not inclined to inflict it on anyone else. Or I see no point in spending my time preparing work that will mostly never be done anyway.
Furthermore, why should my reasons for doing something be in accordance with anyone else's? Doesn't this imply that you've assumed the right to judge me? Where did that right come from? Of course, I make such judgments myself just as everyone else does. I'd also hope that except on odd occasions, my reason for doing something is sufficient.
You could say that Gustino's pears are a trivial matter, but it's what his action represents. He was enjoying being naughty for the sake of being naughty. It's like the Four Stages of Cruelty. You start with pears and the next thing you know, you're dissecting live corpses for the amusement of the Fellows of the Royal Society.
Gus wriggles out of the whole problem with some logical trickery in which he declares that the supreme good can't be corrupted; something has to have some good in it to be corrupted in the first place; therefore, evil has no substance because if it dd, it'd be good.
Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, you Pear Pilfering Pervert.
Notes.
1. I assume that your motivation is your blind enthusiasm for pedagogy and your obliviousness to alternatives. Not everything has to be about something. Sit back and enjoy the ride for once.
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