Do you know someone struggling with addiction?

If you do, or if you’re that someone, you should certainly check out the excellent Speaking of Faith podcast on the matter.  The program focuses on Twelve Steps-style recovery programs and does a fantastic job of explaining the spiritual side of addiction and recovery.  The program really opened my eyes, as there are those in my life who struggle with some of these issues.

As you may know, it is not easy to discuss religion in an informed way without embracing hostility.  Most people have at least some deeply held convictions, and most people aren’t really capable of talking about these convictions without feeling a need to force others into the same position or die trying.  Speaking of Faith is terrific because it doesn’t do that – Krista Tippett, the host and native Oklahoman, is wonderfully skilled at staying out of the way, asking leading questions yet allowing the stories of her guests to drive the program.  This program is just another example of that, and I believe that any of you who might have addiction in your life or in the life of a family member should spend an hour with this podcast.  No matter what faith you embrace (or even if you reject all faith), this is a worthy approach to addiction and contains universal truths that we can all embrace within our own lives.

I had a grandfather who was able to overcome an alcohol addiction late in his life.  The difference that he felt was enormous – when he drank, his family despised him and he them.  Following the death of one of his daughters and a rather lengthy speech from one of his doctors, he made a commitment to stop drinking and embrace the family that he had.  He spent five years to the day free of alcohol, and those five years were the best of his life.  I regret not talking to him more.  I am grateful for his example, both because it inspired me to avoid alcohol and other harmful drugs and because it helped me to see the power of personal change.  Nobody in my family ever thought he’d stop drinking – we thought he’d die drunk, and likely at the neighborhood tavern.  He exceeded all expectations.  At his funeral, nobody talked about his alcoholism and recovery, but it was on everyone’s mind.  He died a good man, the man his family had always wanted him to be, and there is much to be said for that.

Anyway, at worst, it’s a good program, and you should listen to it.  You’ll learn much about the spiritual elements of addiction and the potential for recovery.  I hope the story of my grandfather illustrates, at minimum, the power of individuals to make lasting changes in their lives.  If you’re addicted to something, I hope you get help.  If you have a family member addicted to something, I hope you get help.  And, if you’re not addicted to anything, try this instead of alcohol.

What is a moral decision?

No, I’m not wondering why Neifi Perez lasted till age 34 in the major leagues.  Yes, this is what a 20-2 beating does to your soul.

Two recent conversations, one with a friend and one over the beloved Internet, have led me to ask myself a few questions about this.  Most people consider morality to be defined by adherence to a few pretty general principles, with those who are mostly able to do so being labeled “good people”.  Don’t lie, don’t cheat, don’t steal, be nice to Mom, don’t hurt others, do something sweet once in a while.  Some people add believe in God, don’t screw a different girl every night, don’t drink alcohol; others don’t see those as important at all.  But generally speaking, morality as defined in the popular culture is basically a checklist: do/don’t do these few things, and you’re a moral person.

I see it rather differently.  “Nuclear Deterrence, Morality, and Realism” helped me to understand that morality and utilitarian decisionmaking are fundamentally different, and really shouldn’t come into contact with one another.  If “morality” is to have a different meaning than prudence or, indeed, utility, it must not describe the world of rational cost-benefit analysis.  Indeed, moral decisionmaking is best described as the “logic of appropriateness”, in which one makes decisions based on what is appropriate, either in the judgment of society, a Supreme Being, or himself.  To sum up the difference: rational thought says “I bought an apple because I like to eat apples”, while moral thought says “I bought an apple because you buy apples on Mondays”.  Now, the rules that inform the logic of appropriateness might be created in lots and lots of different ways – for example, by the evolution of a social norm against stealing.  Eventually, you don’t think “the risk of stealing that bike is too great” or “he might be able to beat me up if I try to fight him”: you just don’t even consider it an option to steal or fight, and if you do, the thought is quickly dismissed as inappropriate with no real consideration of its merit.

So that’s my view of morality: a logic of appropriateness that focuses on rules rather than the rational interests of oneself.  What characteristics must such a decision have?  I can think of at least three.

First, there must be no way that you can profit from the decision at hand.  Self interest is a powerful force: it shapes our actions, our positions on critical issues, and, ultimately, our view of truth itself.  The only way to be sure that self interest is not the thing motivating you is to be completely sure that you will not benefit.  This means that you can’t make money from the decision.  Your social status cannot be enhanced.  You cannot become any more likely to receive whatever eternal rewards your religion promises.  Indeed, you cannot even feel good about doing what’s at hand.  If there’s any way that you can profit, it is most certainly a factor in your decision, and your decision is not truly moral.  Let’s take a decision that most people would see as a very moral decision: running into a burning building to save a child.  This is something that should be done.  It saves a life and provides a great deal of utility to that child, his family, his friends, and all who know him.  However, you can stand to gain a great deal from doing this.  You will be seen as a hero by your friends and coworkers, and your status will rise.  You will probably feel good about having done the right thing.  If you subscribe to a faith that promises eternal rewards for temporal obedience, you’ll surely earn some brownie points there.  These are all reasons that this particular decision, while important and good, is most certainly not moral.  Maybe you stand to lose even more, especially if you’re permanently injured in the fire.  However, unless you know for sure that you’ll be worse off, the prospect of reward is still a possibility.  Since there is no way to separate the prospect of those rewards from the decision itself, it must be that you are being prudent and not moral. 

How could that be a moral act?  Well, suppose the house is out in the country, and nobody will know you saved him.  Suppose you’re unable to feel positive emotions, or simply know for some reason that you would not in this case.  Suppose you do not subscribe to a belief system that offers rewards for good behavior.  If all of these things were true, your action would be moral, as it would be surely based on a rule and not on your own self interest.

Second, the decision cannot be taken in a way that weighs anyone else’s interests, either.  This is merely an elaboration of the difference between moral and rational decisionmaking, but it’s worth describing for a minute.  If you weigh the concerns involved in a decision (or try to do so) and conclude that an action is worth taking, you’ve merely behaved rationally.  Moral reasoning isn’t reasoning at all: you simply behave according to a code of conduct which is accepted as a set of rules that does not admit of exceptions. 

Finally, the decision must actively forward some larger principle.  This excludes the trivial decisions of life, such as which cereal to buy or how one behaves in a line.  A moral decision must further a moral principle of worth and, indeed, be based on this principle as well.  So, saving the child might be described as a furthering of the principle that one ought to protect the innocent.  It could also further the principle that one must always assist one’s neighbor, or that one must risk one’s life for another at least one time.

As I am nominally religious, it is more than a little difficult to reconcile my above convictions about morality with a punishment/blessing system that rewards praiseworthy behavior and punishes “bad” behavior.  Seeing the requirements of religion as little more than a fire drill with no connection to what I believe to be true morality makes it pretty tough to get excited about them, and nearly impossible to believe that these requirements are a relevant way to distinguish between good and bad people.  Of course, such is life: some days you accept the utter degradation of mankind, and other days you get beat twenty to two by Philadelphia.