One of the most upsetting aspects of the war in Ukraine is seeing most of the world rallying to impose economic sanctions but making a very deliberate exception for oil and gas. As we see images of the destruction of homes and hospitals in Ukraine, we cannot evade the fact that this is all being partly funded by us buying Russian fuel and our governments are not prepared to stop handing over the cash.
The standard rely to this is that we simply cannot turn off the taps. If we did, our economies would be paralysed. I’m not so sure. Maybe there are one or two countries which are so dependent they would cease to function. For the rest of us the result would not be chaos but the need for rationing and some hardship. If we are not prepared for that, then aren’t our words of support for Ukraine hollow? As a politician I usually I have little time for, Foreign Secretary Liz Truss said, ‘The UK and our allies will have to undergo some economic hardship as a result of our sanctions. But our hardships are nothing compared to those endured by the people of Ukraine.’ And the electorate seems to be behind this. By 3 March, 73% of the UK public had said that they support for economic sanctions even if it leads to increased energy prices. Given how worse the situation now is, that number is now surely even higher.
The moral imperative to do all we can to frustrate Putin led me to set up a (so far) unsuccessful UK parliament petition. But it didn’t take long for my own stance to create a dilemma. For months I have been working with a kind of philosophical corporate consultancy to provide some training to a major multinational. Two days before it was supposed to start, I realised that this company had not committed to fully withdraw from Russia when all of its major competitors had. That meant that, not very indirectly, I was about to profit from trade with Russia which was helping to fuel Putin’s war.
The inconsistency between this and my pleas for others to sign my petition was glaring. At the same time, if I pulled out now I would be causing huge problems for the people I had been working with to provide the training. Also, I don’t do a lot of this kind of work, I’d like to do more and having finally found what seemed like a good partner, I risked destroying the working relationship.
Moral dilemmas like these are not only intellectually thorny. They are uncomfortable at an emotional level. No possible course of action can avoid difficult conversations, the awkwardness of causing problems for others and the gnawing of conscience. But in a complex world, can anyone who is serious about doing the right thing avoid this kind of discomfort?
Imagine someone who just doesn’t recognise this feeling. Maybe that’s because they believe that their moral compass is so accurate that they never face moral dilemmas. They always know the right thing to do and so they do not feel uncomfortable when that requires them to sever relationships or make personal sacrifices.
This kind of moral certitude might sound enviable, maybe even the mark of a kind of saint. But since I don’t believe ethics is straightforward, I think that it rather shows someone who refuses to accept the reality of moral messiness. If you don’t think moral dilemmas exist, you’re not paying attention to the world’s complexity. That suggests your moral certitude could even be pernicious. Little is more dangerous than someone who has no doubts that what they believe is right really is right.
An alternative way of avoiding moral discomfort is simply not to worry too much about ethics. It would have been very easy for me to tell myself a few reassuring things and appease my conscience. My fees are a drop in the multinational’s ocean, pulling out would not have changed their policies, but I would have caused real harm to the people I was working with. When faced with moral discomfort, I think many us look to comfort ourselves with reasons for thinking we have no reason to feel bad after all.
These two strategies made me realise that moral discomfort can have two very different sources: moral clarity and moral ambiguity. It is uncomfortable when it seems very clear what the right thing to do is – as it did to me in this case – and following through creates a lot of problems. But it can also be very uncomfortable when you genuinely don’t know what the right thing to do is and fear you’ll make the wrong choice.
The flip side of this is that moral discomfort can also be appeased by both moral clarity and moral ambiguity. If you are convinced of the rightness of your position, you don’t need to feel uncomfortable about acting on it, even if it creates problems. And if you think it’s all very unclear, you can choose to shrug your shoulders, ask ‘who knows what the right thing to do is anyway?’, and follow the path of least resistance.
Moral discomfort is therefore not fundamentally caused by the existence of strong moral imperatives or uncertainties. It comes from our attitudes to them. If we are sincere about wanting to do the right thing and refuse to give in to the temptation to rationalise difficult choices away, we’re going to find ourselves in some very uncomfortable places.
In the end, my solution was first of all to be very clear to my colleagues about why I didn’t think I could just go ahead as though nothing had happened. They in turn spoke to their contact at the multinational who was surprisingly open to our worries. We agreed that we would talk about the ethics of the company’s decision in the session, which was behind closed doors and so could not be used for corporate whitewashing. As for my fee, it would go to help Ukrainians. So I would be helping the company to face up to the moral dimensions of its actions and not profiting from its trade in Russia.
Whether or not this was the best solution, I think it was an ethical one. Do tell me if you disagree. If I was wrong, it is only right that you make me feel uncomfortable about it.
News
The latest Microphilosophy podcast is out, featuring a Philosophy Salon recorded live pre-Covid at St George’s in Bristol. This time, we’re talking about the perhaps unlikely and surprising connections between philosophy and … cycling. I was sceptical too but after talking with activist, writer and self-described ‘outdoor philosopher’ Kate Rawles and writer and musician Jet MacDonald, I was converted, and I hope you will be too. Also available here and at Apple.
Some of my writing appears behind paywalls and I cannot just post these on my website, but I stretch the terms and conditions of these by making the unedited, submitted versions available to supporters. Two such pieces have been posted this week.
I talk more about moral issues around doing business with Russia for an article soon to be posted at Philonomist. A version of this is available for supporters only here.
Another is my review of two books on masculinity, A History of Masculinity: From Patriarchy to Gender Justice by Ivan Jablonka (Translated from French by Nathan Bracher) and What Do Men Want? Masculinity and Its Discontents by Nina Power. Again, I have made a version of this available for supporters.
A reminder that if you buy books online, you can avoid the tax-dodging giant and buy through my affiliate shop which gives 10% to independent bookshops and 10% to me.
On my radar
The last Royal Institute of Philosophy London Lecture of the current series I’m charing online is Jonardon Ganeri on Fernando Pessoa: The Poet as Philosopher. Pessoa is one of those many Giants of Culture I know Almost Nothing About, so if you’re like me, it’ll be well worth tuning in. Please do come along and join in the Q&A. You can also watch all talks from the series on YouTube.
BBC World Service’s Outlook regularly highlights extraordinary personal stories from around the world. If you’re not a listener, this episode on Marjoe Gortner, ordained in 1944 as an evangelical minister at just four years old, is a good place to start. ‘During the 1950s, he became a star turn on the American preaching circuit and attracted huge crowds for his exuberant preaching, raking in millions of dollars. Behind it all was an elaborate con and years later Marjoe went public with an exposé that took him to Hollywood.’
Another excellent BBC Sounds podcast is War on Truth, ‘Stories from the information war over Ukraine” with disinformation reporter Marianna Spring. Disturbing.
I’m reading Clare Chambers’s Intact: A Defence of the Unmodified Body in preparation to interview her for Bristol Ideas. It’s a really thoughtful and nuanced book about often delicate issues of how much we want to and should change our appearance.
That’s it for this week. So until next time, if nothing prevents, thanks for your interest.