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Mette looked into the eyes of her estranged husband, but could find no flicker of remorse.
"You tell me you want us back," she said to him. "But how can we do that when you won't even admit that you did the wrong thing when you left me and the children?"
"Because in my heart I don't think I did wrong, and I don't want to lie to you," explained Paul. "I left because I needed to get away to follow my muse. I went in the name of art. Don't you remember when we used to talk about Gauguin and how he had to do the same? You always said he had done a hard thing, but not a wrong one."
"But you are no Gauguin," sighed Mette. "That's why you're back. You admit you failed."
"Did Gauguin know he would succeed when he left his wife? No one can know such a thing. If he was in the right, then so was I."
"No," said Mette. "His gamble paid off, and so he turned out to be right. Yours didn't, and so you turned out to be wrong."
"His gamble?" replied Paul. "Are you saying luck can make the difference between right and wrong?"
Mette thought for a few moments. "Yes. I suppose I am."
Source: The eponymous essay from Moral Luck by Bernard Williams, 1981.
Baggini, J., The Pig That Wants to Be Eaten, 2005, p. 289.
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I haven't left my wife behind for my art and my philosophy, but I have left a lot of money and socially productive work behind. And I don't think I've had my lucky break yet to make this all worth it. Does that mean my actions have been morally bad too? I'll be back on Friday to discuss Paul's choice, my choice, and how I think this moral question can be considered in general. In the meantime, let me know what you think about this in the comment section below. I can't guarantee it, but that just might turn out to be the right thing for you to do.