More or Less

I am reminded of a story:
A man shows up at the door one day, a strange little box-like mechanism, with a small handle on top of it in his hands. “Here,” he says, insinuating the small apparatus into the world of an otherwise normal homeowner (Read: “you” or “me”). “It’s really quite easy; all you have to do is push this button,” and he points out a small red dimple on the handle atop the box, “and I will return with one million dollars. Voila.”
Of course, there is a catch; there always is, so our friend, standing unsurely in the doorway asks, “And?”
“Well of course,” says the man, in that knowing sort of way that certain men in ties can so easily affect, “Yes, of course. If you are of the mind to hit the button, well, someone, somewhere in the world will die. Like that; unexpectedly.” And here he kind of smiles. “But after all . . .”
“Who will it be?” asks the homeowner, suddenly horrified by the little device.
“I don’t know,” says the man, shrugging. “But we’re all to die, someday. No?”
“What a horrible little gadget,” says the one without the tie, shuddering.
“Be that as it may, I’ll just leave it here,” and he quickly places the little thing inside the door, “until you’re done with it.”
“But,” responds the other, “What if I never push the button?”
Alas, the suit has somehow disappeared and the homeowner is left alone with his quandary.
Of course, we all know how the story ends.

"Wish for Everything," acrylic and ink on paper, 10" x 8", 2005

It is played out again and again in households and parlors around the world on a daily basis. The price to seduce each of us into pushing that button rises and falls with all the vagaries of the stock market, but there is always a price that is barely enough, and we are always able to act with a delicious dozy indifference to that person “out there” who might well be effected by our actions. And so, push we do . . .
The greatest fib of all is that we can somehow inure ourselves to charges of malfeasance by “taking the fifth” in life. Not asking too many questions; turning a blind eye, sucking up to those who hold the Big Keys, taking a job where one delegates their moral choices to a “higher power” (i.e. their boss; not God), pushing that button anonymously and then putting the consequences out of mind. This common mental gymnastic allows us to pass the vast majority of our time operating in a complete moral void, while comforting ourselves that we have no responsibility other than to our family, our job or our “State.”
There is no such thing as neutrality.
The absurdity of Switzerland aside, every non-decision is a decision in and of itself; every abstention from taking a truly moral course of action is a descent into indifference, and amorality. Amorality and immorality are only separated by their prefix – not at all in their ultimate meaning. And it is just this indifference that is truly the opposite of Good. (“Your indifference makes of you an accomplice.”)
Albert (Einstein) had this to say – and it would behoove more of us to listen to that zany old genius:

“All of us who are concerned for peace and the triumph of reason and justice must today be keenly aware of how small an influence reason and honest good will exert upon events in the political field. But however that may be, and whatever fate may have in store for all of us, we may rest assured that without the tireless efforts of those who are concerned with the welfare of humanity as a whole, the lot of mankind would be still worse that in fact it even now is.”

How many “buttons” – annihilating some anonymous person out there – do we push everyday, with our job choice, our purchasing choices, our driving choices, even flushing a toilet overfilled with precious water?
No, no – of course, after all, how can we really be held responsible for any of this? They’re not really our choices, after all – for God’s sakes! What kind of realist would expect that we could take charge of our actions in such as way as to become truly moral actors in this world gone to the dogs?
(Succumb . . .)
We drift through our days, doing our jobs, taking care of our friends, certainly giving of ourselves to charity and trying to make the world a better place (within reasonable bounds, of course!), sending holiday cards that demand: “World Peace,” and then checking “Destroy” in the ballot box; going to a house of worship on the weekend and then blissfully forgetting it all the vast majority of the time.
And we feel more or less certain that we are more or less good and moral people.