Morality in Fictional Worlds–as the author wishes

Does fiction help us understand morality?

Philosophy professors like to use thought experiments to get their students to look at their assumptions in a new way, or to bring out their intuitions about conflicting principles.

“Could I be a brain in a vat?”

“Should I reroute the trolley so it hits one person rather than five?”

“Should Heintz steal the medicine for his wife from the greedy pharmacist?”

And always, “Why?”

Sometimes philosophers use situations from familiar books and movies to serve the same purpose: Sophie’s choice, McCoy’s aversion to the transporter on Star Trek, Huck Finn’s decision to go against what he believes is “right.”

Focusing on a vividly described situation makes for interesting discussion, but it’s important to remember how fiction differs from reality. In fiction, the author determines which details are relevant, what consequences ensue, and how the world works.

One such relevant detail is where the story “ends.” End the story too soon, and all the hero’s efforts seem have resulted in disaster. End it just after he succeeds, and it seems that he made the right choices after all. End it too late… well, it’s up to the author whether he really lives happily ever after as a result of his decisions. That brings us to the author’s control over what consequences ensue.

For instance, suppose you have a film in which the good guy and the bad guy end up shooting at each other. Which shots hit their mark? Which injuries are fatal or incapacitating? In westerns and the Marvel Universe, the results tend to favor the hero, because the author controls the consequences.

You can also see this as a fact about how these worlds work, something else the author controls. In these worlds, the good guys are more adept at fighting than the bad guys. It isn’t very plausible, unless maybe God is on their side. After all, surely the bad guys attack people more often. Even if the good guys have self-discipline and practice devotedly, they will have less battle experience. So why would they win so consistently?

(In the long run, the good guys have the advantage of working together and trusting each other, but that isn’t going to make their aim more accurate.)

In the world of Dr. Who, guns are not the answer. Dr Who also faces bad guys who are armed with all sorts of weapons, but he (or she) relies on finding alternate ways of dealing with them. And he succeeds. There is always another way to solve the problem.

I would like to believe that this is true of our actual world–that there is always another solution– but I don’t know how we could tell. The writers of Dr. Who can ensure that the good Doctor does find that other way. We don’t have a Doctor to call on.

In some worlds, this other solution involves the Power of Love. Star Trek Discovery, season 3, seems to exist in such a world. The bad guys are not really bad after all, just misguided, unhappy, or perhaps even right about having been mistreated. And there is something to this, as anyone who has been caught between two feuding friends can agree. In these worlds, with the right approach, the two sides can be reconciled and be friends.

I would like to think that this is also true of our world, but it seems clear that there are some people who really don’t care about others. There are even people who actively enjoy hurting others, and not because they believe the others have wronged them. The Power of Love seems inadequate here, at least without some sort of psychiatric fix that we don’t currently have.

Even when the enmity is between two basically decent people or groups of people, reconciliation is much, much harder than it appears in fiction. People tend to see all the ways in which they have been wronged, but only a small percentage of the ways in which they have wronged others. (I don’t remember the name for this bias.) So people feel that they are being asked to accept more cost and forgive more injury than the other side. Even when it’s clear that the dispute is hurting everyone, it is very hard for people to accept less than they feel they are owed. And if resentment continues to burn, the dispute is likely to flare up again at a moment’s notice. One can only hope that the next generation doesn’t inherit all the resentment of the past.

Does fiction help us understand morality? As an author, I can show a world in which it is sometimes necessary to kill, or a world in which there is always a better way. My characters may need to do bad things in order to prevent worse ones, or my characters may need to stick to their principles and refuse to do wrong, no matter what, lest they become part of the problem themselves. The bad guys may be misunderstood, or they may truly be bad.

How does this help with the real world? When I’m addressing some real world situation, I may have the Dr. Who universe in mind, while someone else is thinking about the Marvel Universe. No wonder we disagree about what to do! Which of the many fictional worlds is most like our own? Tony Stark’s New York? Dr. Who’s London? The Federation of the far, far future? Something else?

Yes.

One thing fiction does help us do is see the different ways that other people–and ourselves, at different times–perceive the world. It can help us understand why we draw such vastly different conclusions about how to react. It cannot, however, tell us what is right.

Till next post.

P.S. Though I used science fiction for my examples, the same contrasts exist in novels and films set in strictly realistic settings.

Hope–in poetry, fiction, and life

Let me start by sending you to a poem, “Hope” by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer.

Now that you’ve read what it says, so nicely and concisely, I’m going to talk about hope at more length.

Hope leads us from where we are, a place where we can’t see how things are going to work out, to that unknown future where, quite possibly, things really do work out. We can’t know in advance what that future will look like and there are no guarantees–except perhaps that if we don‘t keep moving, we will never get there.

There are two things I want to say about hope. The first is that sometimes we despair because we think we know more than we do. We think we know what is required to save the day, and also that we are unequal to the task. So we lose hope.

In The Lord of the Rings, Frodo is faced with a nearly impossible task. Go to Mordor? “One does not simply walk into Mordor”, as the popular quotation from the movie goes. Much less does one walk in while carrying the One Ring and hope to escape detection long enough to drop it in Mount Doom.

But Frodo accepts the task anyway, “though I do not know the way.”

You know how the story goes. There are others who can show him the way, even the way into Mordor. Help comes from unexpected sources, and in very unexpected ways. Frodo can anticipate none of this. And as he plods forward through the hostile wasteland that is Mordor, he has no way to know that in the White City, Aragorn has learned Frodo is alive and is planning desperate measures to keep Sauron from looking his way.

The day always needs saving, from one threat or another, but you aren’t responsible for saving it. Only for doing your bit.

The second thing I want to say about hope is that it is amazing what we can accomplish together when we have a clear, urgent goal.

Here I’ll move into real examples. Remember the Tham Luang cave rescue? (If not, there are documentaries you can watch.) Twelve kids and their soccer coach were stranded in a cave in Thailand. The Royal Thai Navy Seals and expert divers and rescue workers from all over the world put their skills to work to get them out. The route was long and incredibly difficult, and one diver died in the process. But they did get the kids out.

And then there are the Covid vaccines. People all over the world poured knowledge, skills, and funding into the effort, and the vaccines were developed faster than we had any reason to expect. Death rates dropped, and family gatherings recommenced.

Working together is harder when the goal isn’t as clear as “get the kids out of the cave” or as urgent as “because huge numbers of people are dying daily right now and all our lives have been turned upside down.” But hard isn’t impossible. And again, it isn’t all on your shoulders. Other people are also at work.

To be clear, these examples could have gone very differently. The kids could have died in the cave or on the way out. We could still be waiting for a vaccine for Covid. The point is not that we always succeed when we devote ourselves to a task–we don’t–but that we sometimes do manage incredible feats. Therein lies hope.

I’m going to end with a couple of lines from a song. I like these lines because they seem counterintuitive at first. So, from “Trip Around the Sun”, (I prefer Jimmy Buffet, but here’s Stephen Bruton as well)

“I’m just hanging on while this old world keeps spinning.

And it’s good to know it’s out of my control…”

Can you imagine being responsible for keeping the earth spinning?

Till next post.

P.S. I want to thank the neighbor around the block who periodically inscribes poems on the sidewalk in chalk. I think this started during the pandemic, and I have enjoyed both the poems I recognized and the opportunity to discover some new favorites. “Hope” is a new favorite.

Cat Dreams–what do cats dream about?

I know my cat dreams. It isn’t just that she’s a mammal, with a brain much like mine. It’s because sometimes, as she sleeps on my lap, her paws twitch and she mumbles that chirping, chattering sound she makes to birds on the other side of the window.

So she probably dreams about birds in the garden. What else do cats dream about? I imagine she dreams about other things that happen in her life. Maybe she chases lizards, or washes herself, or eats delicious wet food.

Does she dream about things that haven’t happened? The vacuum has never left the closet of its own accord and chased her around the house, but does she have nightmares about that happening? Or does imagining things that haven’t happened, even in dreams, require some quality that cats’ brains don’t possess? Maybe she has bad dreams of going to the vet, of being poked with small pointy sticks, but none in which inflated garbage bag creatures pounce on her in the kitchen.

Maybe that’s a good thing.

What is it like when she gets woken up mid-dream, perhaps by some over-affectionate human wanting to pat her? When I wake up abruptly from a dream, sometimes it’s hard to shake the feelings I had, especially if I was angry at someone, or very upset about something that happened in the dream. And I know that it was a dream, and know the difference between dreaming and reality. How do cats know the difference between a dream and reality? Or does it not matter–does whatever they felt in the dream get immediately replaced by their awareness of their waking surroundings, so that the dream fades from thought almost instantly?

What is it like when cats dream? I can only guess.

Till next post.