Occasional Tales

Are we just going to turn a blind eye to man’s inhumanity to man? Erasmus condemned war. But when war is declared, ethics gets turned on his head. Killing people, looting and pillaging, deception and (for the especially deranged) suicide missions suddenly become quite acceptable. Thus, we might conclude that war is very bad. As the book notes, recent wars have been conducted to free people from the spectre of genocide and fanatical regimes. World War II was fought to defeat the Nazis and their odious philosophy and Japanese militarism. But if we stopped fighting wars to remove such regimes, then we are, in effect, leaving dictators to murder as many people as they like. Whether war is acceptable depends on the reason for its declaration and its aftermath. World War I was precipitated by an assassination of Archduke Ferdinand of Austria which then triggered the various alliances among the European powers. The penalties imposed on Germany at the end of the war seem to have contributed to

Bombs have a mind of their own. Today’s dilemma is about the conduct of war and how during WWII, Allied bombers didn’t just attack military and industrial targets, but simply cities themselves. The notion that bombing undermines civilian morale seems to be misguided. It didn’t work during the Blitz in 1940 and if it did bring the war to an end in 1945, it wasn’t because civilian morale was undermined. Bombing military targets or industry makes military sense. Bombing civilians to undermine morale is a crime against humanity. If the Germans think that Arthur Harris should’ve been tried for war crimes, I’d agree. The end would not appear to justify the means, but I suppose the circumstances were such that faced with a far more powerful enemy in 1940, the government indeed might’ve countenanced such tactics to cause a maximum amount of disruption. The loss of skilled workers was perhaps more disastrous than the loss of factories. Besides, I believe I’ve read that German industrial product

Try killing the boyfriend. We’re still in Relatavia for one last visit today and this time into the murky world of honour killing. Jonathan has been going out with Sally, who’s a Lovelander (not that that really matters) without his mother’s permission. She summons the women of the family together who decide that Jonathan must pay the penalty for his filial impiety, and shoot him. A policewoman come round to check on the noise as the family is disposing of the body. When she learns what happened, she tells them it’s now against the law and she’ll have to impose a fine. Mother is outraged and thinks everyone has lost their sense of right and wrong. Is the policewoman right to impose the fine? As one of the Relatavian delegation to Hairland noted, it might not’ve been right yesterday; it might not be right tomorrow; but if it’s right today, then it must be respected. In other words, if Relatavian law says it’s wrong, then the policewoman ought to fine the family. Mother may be outraged,

Well, just eat the chips. The Chief Minister of Hairland listens to the Relatavians for a time and then silences them. He tells the Relatavians that the custom after people have had a disagreement is to go on a Baldie Hunt, which will provide them with something to eat afterwards. Most of the Relatavian delegation agree that customs must be respected (partly out of fear that something worse may result if they don’t acquiesce). The Baldie member of the delegation wonders whether they have any principles at all. But the hunt is exciting and the subsequent banquet very tasty. The trade talks are successful and the Relatavians go home. Some time later, though, a Loveland newspaper publishes the background to the agreement and claims that it’s all rather unethical and a betrayal of principle. The Relatavians wonder whose principle has been betrayed and the story fades away since eating people is a minor ethical matter when it’s done amicably. The discussion in the back of the book can be bo

Baldie. It seems that the Baldie member of the Relatavian delegation just won’t let this one drop. He notes that the Baldies of Hairland didn’t use to be treated as second class citizens until fairly recently, but the others remind him that that was then and this is now. In fact, what is right is right now regardless of how it was once considered or might be considered in the future. The Baldie notes that all the problems are found in a part of the country that was formerly part of Loveland and thinks that the sort of tolerance that’s found in Relatavia would be practised there as well. But the Chief Minister of Hairland still wants an answer to yesterday’s question. “Are you trying to impose your values on us?” Each of the Relatavians will answer for themselves. I suppose this is meant to be relativism taken to an absurd extreme where relativists not only respect cultures in a general sense but cultures in a personal sense as well. The whole delegation has to respond as individuals be

Hirsute hijinks in Hairland. The Relatavians are engaged in trade talks with the people of Hairland, a country which has a small population of Baldies. The delegation from Relatavia object to certain things about life in Hairland such as the unequal treatment of Baldies there. The leader of the Hairland delegation makes his excuses, but the Baldie member of the group from Relatavia notes that parents are offered a screening programme to ensure that they won’t have Baldie babies, and that Baldies are flogged and even killed during times of crisis. The Relatavians pride themselves on their tolerance of other cultures, but the leader of the Hairland delegation asks them if they’re trying to impose their values on them. What should the Relatavians say to that? I suppose that’s the conundrum of relativism. If it’s going to be tolerant about one aspect of a society, it has to be tolerant about the other, less pleasant ones. Yet it would seem that if human rights are being violated, then sayi

The Adventures of the Coast Patrol. The final dilemma in this section is the plight of illegal immigrants. With the report of a fishing boat laden with people approaching the coast, Wiggles, Bulgy and Dickie scramble to check it out. Sure enough, there’s the boat with people crowded on the decks. Bulgy fires some warning shots, but some of the bullets hit the boat by accident, although Bulgy would like to sink a few of these vessels to send a message against attempting such a dangerous trip. Wiggles radios the Hammerblow to tow the boat back out to sea until Dickie spots a message coming from it – SOS. Wiggles immediately radios the Hammerblow again to warn them that the boat might be sinking. The navy is under orders not to go to the assistance of such vessels and as Wiggles and the boys fly back to base, the Hammerblow also sets course for home. Nothing is heard of the illegal immigrants. The only answer to this dilemma which I can think of is to solve the problems which affect the

A cautionary tale. Today’s dilemma is a poem about Pauline and a box of matches. Left to her own devices, she’s tempted to light a match or two in spite of injunctions from her mother, nursie and two philosopher cats called Minz and Maunz. Pauline runs around the room with the lit match in hand until her clothes catch on fire and she’s burnt to ashes, leaving behind her scarlet shoes. Did Pauline really deserve this fate? Isn’t it the pattern of cautionary tales that the fate of the person who violates some injunction is usually fairly unpleasant? In other words, any child being told the story is being told that there will be extreme consequences, which is obviously seen as a deterrent. In fact, a lot of fairy tales are violent affairs, although there has been a certain amount of bowdlerisation. In the versions of Cinderella I was told whenI was young, they all lived happily ever after, but there are also versions in which the Ugly Sisters hack bits of their feet off so that the slippe

Cherchez la belle-mère méchante. A rich man and his wife love each other very much and hope for a child, but are unable to conceive. One day during the winter, the wife is outside under the juniper tree peeling an apple when she cuts herself. Her blood drips onto the snow and she wishes for a child as red as blood and as white as snow.[ 1 ] Having said this, her mood improves, and nine months later she gives birth to a little boy who has the very characteristics she hoped for. But in giving birth, the woman dies and is buried under the juniper tree. Her husband mourns for a time before marrying again. With his new wife, he has a daughter called Marlene. Her mother loves her daughter very much, but loathes the son from the previous marriage and contrives to decapitate him using the lid of a chest. Aghast at what she’s done, the wicked stepmother sets the head back on the body and covers the wound with a handkerchief. When Marlene gets home, she tells her mother how her brother said noth

Promises were made to be broken. I’m back from my holiday, have had a week at school (ugh), and feel like resuming the series of ethical dilemmas. Part I Today’s dilemma is a fairy tale, The Frog Prince. You know the one. When the youngest princess loses her golden ball in a pond, a frog offers to retrieve it provided the princess promises to cohabit with him. Naturally the frog gets the ball, but the princess, who hasn’t been reading her fairy tales or she’d know without question that the frog is a prince, reneges on the deal and goes home. But shouldn’t the princess keep her promise? Even to a frog? Since talking frogs would appear to be nothing unusual in the princess’s world, we can perhaps overlook that the frog is not human and would, therefore, have no rights enshrined in law. A promise may be a verbal or written contract. The law may say that any promise, verbal or written, constitutes contract, which makes the princess liable to keep the promise she made to the frog. Or the la