Because I don't have a post-graduate degree in philosophy, I was once told off by a blogging professor that I shouldn't be calling myself "a philosopher." He said I was just someone who philosophizes. I wasn't aware this had become a credentialed title like a doctor, lawyer, or engineer, and I told him most of the "managers" in the world must just be "people who manage" then too. Honestly, the logical contortions others will go to to protect their own interests...

I much prefer the more expansive view of philosophy espoused in the recent blog post by Eric Schwitzgebel, titled What Philosophical Work Could Be. Schwitzgebel is a professor of philosophy at UC Riverside, so he's speaking mainly to other similar professionals, but he acknowledges that "popular essays, fictions, aphorisms, dialogues, autobiographical reflections, and personal letters have historically played a central role in philosophy. We could potentially add, too, public performances, movies, video games, political activism, and interactions with the judicial system and governmental agencies. ... I favor treating a wide range of inquiries as philosophical, only a small minority of which happen in philosophy departments. I have a liberal conception of "inquiry" on which sitting at one's desk reading and writing expository arguments is only one sort of inquiry. Engaging with the world, trying out one's ideas in action, seeing the reactions of non-academics, exploring ideas in fiction and meditation -- these are also valuable modes of inquiry that advance our philosophical knowledge, activities in which we not only deploy our expertise but cultivate and expand it, influencing society and, in a small or a large way, the future of both academic philosophy and non-academic philosophical inquiry."

With this in mind, I'm declaring my upcoming break as another means of philosphical inquiry. As I wrote before, philosophers don't vacation or holiday (they go on tour!) so this is consistent with my beliefs and I'll do my best to bring my views to others and then bring all my observations back here. I'll be back on the blog with more thought experiments in two weeks, but until then, enjoy your own modes of inquiry!

Okay, time to jump on top of this week's thought experiment, as it were. As a reminder, here is the story that is up for consideration.

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     It came as a great surprise to his family that Private Kenny was not awarded the Victoria Cross for bravery. After all he had died smothering a grenade that would have killed a dozen or more of his comrades. If that was not a 'signal act of valour or devotion in the presence of the enemy' then what was?
     They demanded an explanation from his regiment. The statement issued by the army read: 'It has been the practice in the past to reward such actions with the appropriate medal. However, we have decided that it is a mistake to consider such acts as requiring an exceptional devotion to duty. All military personnel are required to act in the interests of the whole unit at all times. To suggest that Private Kenny's act was over and above the call of duty, therefore, suggests that it might be acceptable to sometimes not act in the interest of the whole unit. This is clearly absurd. Therefore, we no longer reward such acts with posthumous awards.
     'Although we appreciate this is a painful time for the family, we should also point out that Private Kenny would have died in the blast anyway, so it is not even the case that he sacrificed his life for his colleagues.'
     It was hard to fault the cold logic of the statement, but in their hearts Kenny's family were not persuaded that he had acted anything other than heroically. But on what grounds could they appeal?

Baggini, J., The Pig That Wants to Be Eaten, 2005, p. 43.
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Based on my understanding of moral feelings, I'm confident you'd all like to award Private Kenny a medal for bravery. This would especially be the case if you or your family members were in the room with him at the time of his act. So where to begin poking holes in the "cold logic of the statement" from the military?

First off, I'd point out that the rule where "all military personnel are required to act in the interests of the whole unit at all times" is impossible to uphold as well as unwise and potentially immoral. As I pointed out in my published paper, our actions ought to lead towards the survival of all life. This requires wise balancing acts to be performed between the needs of all forms of life: from individuals, through societies, to ecosystems, all interacting over evolutionary timeframes. We have millennia of development in our genes that favoured looking out for ourselves so this is quite a tough task. Heck, it's only been 150 years since we even discovered the fact of evolution, so it's no wonder we sometimes struggle with considering the ramifications of our moral choices on all the "others" out there into the far off future. But that *is* what we *ought* to do. No military law should try to overrule that. And the mere words on the page that try to do so  shouldn't stop us from decorating a hero who manages to overcome the selfish part of his evolutionary heritage so decisively.

Next, I'd bring up how knowledge of the future is only probable at best. The military letter claimed that "Private Kenny would have died in the blast anyway", but do they really know this? What if, instead of diving on the grenade, Private Kenny had been able to dive behind a steel girder, which would have shielded him and him alone from the blast? What if the grenade had gone off earlier than expected and Private Kenny had simply been a bit closer to the grenade as it killed everyone? What if another soldier had been nearer to the grenade, or born with faster reflexes, and he had jumped on the grenade just fractions of a second before Private Kenny? After all, everyone is supposed to act in this way according to the military's letter. But then, Private Kenny might have been unnecessarily injured by being too close to the blast when it killed this other grenade smotherer. Surely that outcome wouldn't be in the interests of the entire unit. Given all these possibilities for different outcomes, even if you were to reasonably expect members of the unit to throw themselves on grenades for the good of their comrades, Private Kenny should be rewarded for wisely making the right split-second decision about how best to act.

Finally, I'd ask the blind bureaucrat who sent this letter where the harm is in celebrating someone who has done their duty right up until the difficult end? Sure, we may not want to cheapen medals by handing them out every time someone covers their mouth during a sneeze, but I think we can agree that when a soldier dies doing his or her duty, then we should thank them for their service and remember that they signed up for it in the first place.

So, Kenny gets his medal for what philosophers call a supererogatory act. According to Baggini, "this is when someone does something good which goes beyond what is demanded of them by morality." I would point out that morality cannot "demand" anything (only societies can do this though laws), but in the great balancing act of the sacrifices required for life, surely some sacrifices go above and beyond the norm. Thank you for all the ones you have made. I wish I had a medal for you too.

As a reminder for new readers, I'm working my way through philosopher Julian Baggini's thought experiments from his book The Pig that Wants to be Eaten (and ninety-nine other thought experiments). I post these on Mondays and give my evolutionary philosophy based response on Fridays. I've enjoyed making my way through 14 of these provoking problems so far, but this 15th one is one of the thorniest. Especially so soon after Memorial Day in America.

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     It came as a great surprise to his family that Private Kenny was not awarded the Victoria Cross for bravery. After all he had died smothering a grenade that would have killed a dozen or more of his comrades. If that was not a 'signal act of valour or devotion in the presence of the enemy' then what was?
     They demanded an explanation from his regiment. The statement issued by the army read: 'It has been the practice in the past to reward such actions with the appropriate medal. However, we have decided that it is a mistake to consider such acts as requiring an exceptional devotion to duty. All military personnel are required to act in the interests of the whole unit at all times. To suggest that Private Kenny's act was over and above the call of duty, therefore, suggests that it might be acceptable to sometimes not act in the interest of the whole unit. This is clearly absurd. Therefore, we no longer reward such acts with posthumous awards.
     'Although we appreciate this is a painful time for the family, we should also point out that Private Kenny would have died in the blast anyway, so it is not even the case that he sacrificed his life for his colleagues.'
     It was hard to fault the cold logic of the statement, but in their hearts Kenny's family were not persuaded that he had acted anything other than heroically. But on what grounds could they appeal?

Baggini, J., The Pig That Wants to Be Eaten, 2005, p. 43.
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What do you think? Would you jump on the grenade? Should we expect you to?

This week's thought experiment is another one with a straightforward answer according to both morality and the law. Let's look at it quickly and then consider the answer.

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     When Richard went to the ATM, he got a very pleasant surprise. He requested $100 with a receipt. What he got was $10,000 with a receipt - for $100.
     When he got home, he checked his account online and found that, sure enough, his account had been debited by only $100. He put the money in a safe place, fully expecting the bank swiftly to spot the mistake and ask for it back. But the weeks passed and nobody called.
     After two months, Richard concluded that no one was going to ask for the money. So he headed off to the BMW dealership with the hefty down-payment in his pocket.
     On the way, however, he did feel a twinge of guilt. Wasn't this stealing? He quickly managed to convince himself it was no such thing. He had not deliberately taken the money, it had just been given to him. And he hadn't taken it from anyone else, so no one had been robbed. As for the bank, this was a drop in the ocean for them, and anyway, they would be insured against such eventualities. And it was their fault they had lost the money - they should have had safer systems. No, this wasn't theft. It was just the biggest stroke of luck he had ever had.

Baggini, J., The Pig That Wants to Be Eaten, 2005, p. 40.
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Sounds like Richard needs to reconsider. According to a New Zealand couple that received $4 million when they asked for a $40,000 loan, "A lot of people say: 'You're lucky, like winning the lottery'. I say: 'Nothing worse could happen to you'." After fleeing to Macao's casinos to try and launder the money they had received, the NZ couple were caught and returned to face justice. The husband, who played the majority role in the whole affair, was tried and sentenced to four years and seven months in prison.

I think you've lived a pretty good life if the worst thing that ever happened to you was a massive bank error ending up in your account, but I suppose the temptation to run to ruin might be pretty strong and succumbing to that temptation would definitely cause problems. There are clear laws against keeping this kind of windfall, and in today's electronic age it would be very difficult to keep such a transaction and any of the subsequent spending out of the eye of international law enforcement. But even if you were 99% certain that you could keep things a secret, wouldn't that remainder of doubt cloud the entire future of however you spent the money? Like Raskolnikov in Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment, you would always be looking over your shoulder. The bigger the error, the bigger the downfall would be. The smaller the error, the less worthwhile any transgression would be. Like all moral questions, if you look to the long term and the bigger picture, the answer is clear.

Monday morning and time for yet another thought experiment to consider. Perhaps you spent all your cash this weekend and are headed to the ATM like Richard...

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     When Richard went to the ATM, he got a very pleasant surprise. He requested $100 with a receipt. What he got was $10,000 with a receipt - for $100.
     When he got home, he checked his account online and found that, sure enough, his account had been debited by only $100. He put the money in a safe place, fully expecting the bank swiftly to spot the mistake and ask for it back. But the weeks passed and nobody called.
     After two months, Richard concluded that no one was going to ask for the money. So he headed off to the BMW dealership with the hefty down-payment in his pocket.
     On the way, however, he did feel a twinge of guilt. Wasn't this stealing? He quickly managed to convince himself it was no such thing. He had not deliberately taken the money, it had just been given to him. And he hadn't taken it from anyone else, so no one had been robbed. As for the bank, this was a drop in the ocean for them, and anyway, they would be insured against such eventualities. And it was their fault they had lost the money - they should have had safer systems. No, this wasn't theft. It was just the biggest stroke of luck he had ever had.

Baggini, J., The Pig That Wants to Be Eaten, 2005, p. 40.
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So it's pretty obvious we're all *supposed* to return the money. But would you? And why? Or why not? I'll be back on Friday to post my answer.