The Myth of Choice_ Personal Responsibility in a World of Limits - Kent Greenfield [79]
Other times, an understanding of the contours of situation allows us to recognize that blame is appropriate and punishment should be increased. The climbers caught in the storm on Mount Hood deserved more blame than they received. Self-help guru James Arthur Ray will be more blameworthy to a jury the more they understand the situation he created in the sweat lodge. The executives at fast food companies who knowingly take advantage of human frailty in order to sell unhealthful food do not deserve to be protected from lawsuits. Individuals and institutions who manipulate cultural iconography for selfish ends—politicians hiding pork barrel projects behind flag pins, the Vatican hiding pedophiles behind church robes, or professional athletes hiding sexual assault behind team logos—should be held accountable.
How do we tell when people should be let off the hook, given a “do over,” or forgiven, and when they should be punished, held accountable, or ostracized? How do we make a choice about other people’s bad choices? How do we make a choice about our own?
These are tough questions, and the answers will not be the same for everyone. But I can say with certainty that we could all stand to be a little more like David Souter and Armando Galarraga.
Like Souter, we could remember that decisions are much more complex than we usually assume. Most of us, most of the time, are being pushed and prodded in various ways, some obvious to us and some not. We can understand the limitations and situational influences on our own choices, but it’s not a bad idea to cultivate the habit of opening our eyes to the constraints on others, too. We could all use a little of the intellectual empathy that Souter showed when he was charged with evaluating the choices of others.
And we all make mistakes. Few of us have reason to expect that we could throw a baseball as well as Armando Galarraga. But most of us could be more like him when it comes to cutting others some slack when they screw up. Especially when they fess up, as Jim Joyce did.
At the very least, people who make bad choices should be given the opportunity to tell their stories. They should have the chance to ask for—and sometimes gain—our understanding.
9
Building Choice in a World of Limits
Everybody thinks of changing humanity, and nobody thinks of changing himself.
—Leo Tolstoy, Pamphlets, 1900
And this bird you cannot change And this bird you cannot change Lord knows, I can’t change Lord help me, I can’t change Lord I can’t change Won’t you fly high, free bird, yeah?
—Lynyrd Skynyrd, Free Bird, 1973
NEIL JORDAN’S FILM THE CRYING GAME tells the story of a British soldier named Jody, played by Forest Whitaker, who is kidnapped by members of the Irish Republican Army. Over the few days of his captivity, he develops a bond with Fergus, a soft-hearted Irish volunteer. As days pass, Jody comes to believe he is about to be murdered and tells Fergus the ancient parable of the scorpion and the frog.
Ever heard of ’em? A scorpion wants to cross the river but he can’t swim. Goes to a frog, who can, and asks for a ride. Frog says, “If I give you a ride on my back you’ll go and sting me.”
Scorpion replies, “It would not be in my interest to sting you, since, as I’ll be on your back we both would drown.”
Frog thinks about this logic for a while and accepts the deal. Takes the scorpion on his back, braves the waters, halfway over feels a burning spear in his side and realizes the scorpion has stung him after all. And as they both sink beneath the waves, the frog cries out, “Why’d you sting me Mr. Scorpion? For now we both will drown.”
Scorpion replies, “I can’t help it. It’s in my nature.”1
The next day, Fergus’s bosses require him to kill Jody, but Fergus hesitates. Jody bolts but flees into the path of onrushing British armored troop carriers, which run him over and crush