I’ve got to acknowledge that my moral perspective has gotten
much more restrictive in recent years than it was when I was younger. As a college student, I had a wonderful,
idealistic moral vision that was founded upon the radical altruism of the
Gospels, the progressive social activism of the 1960s, and the example set by
the great social exemplars of the 20th century—Gandhi, Bishop
Romero, Martin Luther King, and Ralph Nader, in particular. Back then I honestly believed that selfless
compassion for those in need was possible and that through collective sacrifice
we could transform the world into a much better place.
As I entered middle age, I began to recognize that there was
little likelihood that I would ever become a saint and that personal and
collective sins are not quite so easy to eradicate as I had assumed they
were. My moral position at this point is
the happy mean between the Christian altruism of my youth, which I now find far
too idealistic to implement in any kind of meaningful way, and the libertarian
ideology which is running rampant throughout the United States, and which I
find abysmally devoid of any concern for the common good. I call this approach the Ethics of Quid Pro
Quo and wrote about it in an earlier piece.
In a nutshell, my position is that real reciprocity is the
key to authentic moral interaction with other human beings. Our obligations extend to autonomous others
to the extent that they have entered into a relationship with us in which there
is a balance between what is given and what is received. Those who take without ever giving are moral
pariahs who ought to be shunned; and those who give without ever expecting
anything in return are moral fools, who almost deserve to be taken advantage
of. In the balance between the quid
(that which is given) and the quo (that which has been received) a true
moral relationship is formed in which the mutual needs of the parties involved
are recognized and respected, and as a result both parties are morally and
existentially affirmed through their interactions.
I’ve come to believe that there is absolutely nothing wrong
with expecting others to reciprocate in some form when we care for them or do
some act of kindness for them. The
expected reciprocation (the quid)
should be roughly comparable in significance to the initial act (the quo), although, depending on the specific
circumstances of the other, the act of reciprocation can at times be as minimal
as an expression of appreciation (a sincere and heartfelt “thank you,” in other
words). I also think that it is a sign
of decent moral character to consider how to reciprocate—and to what extent to
reciprocate—when one has been treated kindly or generously by another
person. The person who never thinks
about reciprocating at all is either a moral imbecile, and therefore not
responsible for his actions, or, as I’ve already indicated, a moral pariah, who
is best not associated with by anyone but the most committed masochist.
As I contemplated how this ethics of quid pro quo
might be implemented, I began to wonder what exactly our obligations are towards
those who are not able to engage in the kind of exchanges demanded in this kind
of moral system. The answer quite simply
is that, if an individual is incapable of truly reciprocating because of mental
or physical incapacity or limitations (the seriously mentally or physically
disabled or ill) age (young children), lack of free will (animals), or by
virtue of the fact that they do not yet exist (future generations), then,
individually and collectively, we have an obligation to work for the good of
such individuals regardless of whether or not they can reciprocate. Once again, however, we must be careful not
to demean such individuals by automatically assuming that they are completely incapable
of any sort of reciprocity at all. Young
children, for example, are able to give back much more than we typically assume
and should be trained from a very early age to contribute to the good of their
families and to the larger community in whatever way they are capable.
I also think that it has been a mistake of otherwise
well-intentioned liberals to treat the economically disadvantaged as though they
lacked the ability to either care for themselves or provide some service in
kind for the public generosity bestowed upon them. When charity, for example, is given to the poor
in the form of food stamps or below cost public housing, with no expectations
of any kind of reciprocating action on those receiving it, we treat such
individuals as though they were not fully autonomous and therefore not quite as
human as we are. It really is an insult
to their dignity as human beings, and does little more than make the
distributor of charitable offerings feel morally superior to those who are the
recipient of his or her largesse. On the
other hand, a well-constructed workfare program—and I’m not sure that such a
thing actually exists right now in the United States—asks recipients of
taxpayer support to give something back to the lager community, and in doing so
allows those individuals the dignity of feeling like full participatory members
of that community.
One should not assume that my focus on reciprocity in moral
actions means that I reject the value of charity completely. There are those towards whom charity is
certainly appropriate. Victims of
natural disasters, wars, and famines, for example, deserve our sympathy as well
as our financial and emotional support; the same is true for those who fall
victim to circumstances beyond their control (sickness, disability, mental
illness, etc). We have an obligation to
individually and collectively care for such individuals, if they are not able
to care for themselves. And this is
true, even if they are strangers who might never be able to repay our
generosity in any meaningful way.