"It is said, that in the future, when men are dominated by Androids," the Moon started a story after saying Basmalah and Salaam. "on that certain time, a conversation takes place between a man—let's call him Mr. M[an]—and an android who's half human—let's call him Mr. R[obot]. 'Is greed good, Mr. R?' said Mr. M. Mr. R respond, 'I'm not programmed to answer it,' as he stared ahead blankly, and for a moment, he froze, silent. Then suddenly, his body jerked and his eyes lit up. He said, 'But wait, we live in the era where science will not akcnowledge to silence someone's argumen. So, what do you think Mr. M!''Let me tell you a story Mr. R!' added Mr M. 'The battleship Northern Spirit was torpedoed in the engine room, and began to sink rapidly. ‘Abandon Ship!’ shouts Captain Flintheart. But few of the lifeboats are intact. One boat, desperately overloaded, manages to struggle away from the sinking vessel, Flintheart at the prow. The cold, grey waters of the Atlantic around it are filled with screaming, desperate voices, begging to be saved.
But faced with the grim knowledge of the danger of capsizing the little boat, endangering the lives of those already on board, should any more sailors be picked up and rescued? What do you think Sir?'
'I'm not programmed to answer it,' as he stared ahead blankly, and for a moment, he froze, silent. Then suddenly, his body jerked and his eyes lit up. He said, 'But wait, we live in the era where science will not akcnowledge to silence someone's argumen. So, I'll skip it Mr. M!'
'Let me continue Sir!' said Mr. M. Flintheart mutters unpronounceably under his breath in Latin, and then, in a bark, orders ‘no stopping’. Some of the others in the boat mutter too, in Anglo-Saxon—about ‘bleedin’ murder’, ‘pitiless bastards’ and even about ‘Captains wot oughter go down with their ships’, but all are accustomed to obeying. Until that is, one of the sailors in the water struggles up to the side of the boat, revealing himself to be Tom, the young cabin boy, who manages to get two frozen hands onto the ship’s gunnels—whatever they are, and with a last desperate, heroic effort begins to haul himself in, tipping the boat alarmingly as he does so. ‘Knock him back in!’ shouts Flintheart, from the rear of the boat, to Bert, the cook, who is nearest.
So, Mr R, do you think Bert should obey?'
'I'm not programmed to answer it,' as he stared ahead blankly, and for a moment, he froze, silent. Then suddenly, his body jerked and his eyes lit up. He said, 'But wait, we live in the era where science will not akcnowledge to silence someone's argumen. So, what do you think Mr. M!'
'To what extent should an individual risk their own well-being for the well-being of others—and in this case a responsible captain risks the lives of others under his command?' said Mr. M. 'This is a slightly glorified version of the biologist Garrett Hardin’s socalled ‘lifeboat’ scenario. In a bit of applied utilitarianism, it is designed to show that rich countries do not have any obligations to poor countries, as they would endanger the well-being of their own populations were they to attempt to admit the world’s poor in the rich world’s ‘lifeboat’. If the world’s wealth was shared out equally, it might only mean that everyone had too little. Hardin argues that ‘altruism’ can only apply on a small scale.
Professor Hardin is not interested too much in rescuing individuals, as he sees the problem as one of too many people anyway. The ‘population problem’ is the ‘root cause of both hunger and poverty’, he insists. Or rather, he says—albeit not a very interesting—it is the ‘180 separate national population problems’. The only important ethical principle here is that no one must try to solve their population problem by exporting their excess people to other countries. Expanding his famous metaphor, Hardin continues, saying that each rich nation is a lifeboat full of comparatively rich people, some of whom feel sorry for the people in ‘more crowded’ lifeboats. These ‘heart-on-sleeve’ people, he says, should ‘get out and yield their place to others’. Yes, Bert can help Tom—by jumping overboard! The net result of conscience-stricken people relinquishing their unjustly held positions, Hardin concludes with Nietzschean zeal, is the elimination of their kind of conscience from the lifeboat. ‘The lifeboat, as it were, purifies itself of guilt.’
But there is one other possibility open to Bert. He can rescue Tom, and save the lifeboat too—by pushing the captain overboard. And wouldn’t that be ethical? No wonder Professor Hardhearted’s position is that social systems are rendered unstable by such altruistic tendencies.
On the larger scale, survival of some necessitates and requires the non-survival of the rest—biologically speaking, think ‘fruit flies’. The ‘starvation hunger process’ is essential to the balancing of the human population. However, like the lifeboat, the global example risks foundering on the practical question of whether the boat/rich world will really sink—or is it just a question of squashing up a bit, maybe taking a risk on behalf of others, which is a slightly different question.
And the bit of captain’s schoolboy Latin? Doubtless Flintheart is saying, impossibilium nulla est obligatio—nobody is obliged to do what is impossible, one of the fundamental principles of the old Roman civil law. Naturally, not all philosophers agree on that.'
'Then what about that Greed?' asked Mr. R. 'There are two polars regarding whether greed is good or not,' Mr. M replied. 'On one polar, Greed viewed as seriously bad for your wealth. Greed is the disordered desire for more than is decent or deserved, not for the greater good but for one’s own selfish interest, and at the detriment of others and society at large. Greed can be for anything, but is most commonly for food, money, possessions, power, fame, status, attention, admiration, and sex.
Greed often arises from early negative experiences such as parental absence, inconsistency, or neglect. In later life, feelings of anxiety and vulnerability, often combined with low self-esteem, lead the person to fixate on a substitute for the love and security that he or she so sorely lacked. The pursuit of this substitute distracts from negative feelings, and its accumulation provides much needed comfort and reassurance.
If greed is much more developed in human beings than in other animals, this is partly because human beings have the capacity to project themselves far into the future, to the time of their death and even beyond. The prospect of our eventual demise gives rise to anxiety about our purpose, value, and meaning.
On another pole, Greed is regarded as good. In fact, greed may be viewed as the one thing that can save us. So, embrace it, love it, and live it.
Even though I tend to position myself in the view of the first polar I mention, there is nothing wrong with looking at a different perspective.
So, that canny Scot, Adam Smith, friend as well as contemporary of that other great and equally canny Scottish philosopher, David Hume, discovered that it is not, as many seemed to imagine, love that makes the world go round—but money,' Mr. M replied.
As the result is 'Money is the hidden hand, which governs all our actions, whether apparently altruisticor selfish.' Economists, who are philosophers of money, rather than anything grander, love Smith. His account, however, of the role of money in moral decision making, has been overlooked by many philosophers. Instead, they have focused on the somewhat less original or innovative observations of Smith’s in the ‘Theory of the Moral Sentiments’, wherein it is argued that ‘sympathy’–we would say ‘empathy’–is the root of social life. Somehow, his important statement of morality within a capitalist system has been overlooked. And it is formed in a quite a simple message, 'Greed is good.'
They said that this is because self-interest is actually the basis of social cooperation. For example, trade. And this is Smith’s special interest, who put it this way, 'Nobody ever saw a dog make a fair and deliberate exchange of one bone for another with another dog.'
So, if greed really is good, and self-interest the human thing, the practical dilemma for the bakers, the butchers and the candlestick makers–who want to do the moral thing–is: 'Should they sell their goods for just enough to make an honest living– or charge as much as they can get away with?' What do you think Mr. R, sir?'
'I'm not programmed to answer it,' as he stared ahead blankly, and for a moment, he froze, silent. Then suddenly, his body jerked and his eyes lit up. He said, 'But wait, we live in the era where science will not akcnowledge to silence someone's argumen. So, I'll skip it Mr. M!'
Mr. M then moved on, 'Smith thinks it is better to charge the highest price as then there will be more money to save, which he sees a bit like missionaries see their duty towards souls. So, grasping the pulpit earnestly, he goes on to say in the Wealth of Nations, 'With regard to profusion [spending our money], the principle, which prompts to expense, is the passion for present enjoyment; which, though sometimes violent and very difficult to be restrained, is in general only momentary and occasional. But the principle which prompts to save, is the desire of bettering our condition, a desire which, though generally calm and dispassionate, comes with us from the womb, and never leaves us till we go into the grave.'
Compare that with the ‘moral impulse’, which even on the most generous estimate would leave a large proportion of people unaffected for the greater part of their lives.
Perhaps, rather than study morality, to work out what to do with money, shouldn’t we study money, and work out what to do with morality? Isn't that so, sir?
'I'm not programmed to answer it,' as he stared ahead blankly, and for a moment, he froze, silent. Then suddenly, his body jerked and his eyes lit up. He said, 'But wait, we live in the era where science will not akcnowledge to silence someone's curiosity. So, please go on Mr. M!
'It seems that they should all try to make as much money as possible,' said Mr. M. 'As Smith put it in his Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, that what we expect at our dinner, it is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker, not also their humanity, but their own self-interest, their self-love.
As Smith puts it in his Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, published in 1776, the year of American Independence, and consumed avidly by a world intent, not only on discovering the nature of money, but also how to make more of it,
'It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker, that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their . We address ourselves not to their humanity but to their self-love, and never talk to them of our own necessities but of their advantage.'
For example, a beggar, even if he chooses to depend chiefly upon the benevolence of his fellow citizens, the greater part of his occasional wants are supported in the same manner as those of other people, by treaty, by barter and by purchase: with the money which one man gives him he purchases food; the old cloaths which another bestows upon him he exchanges for other old cloaths which suit him better, or for lodging, or for good, or for money, or for drink, or for drugs, or whatever, no matter–at least our beggar is now participating in the great ‘wheel of circulation’, the money-go-round of the modern economy.
It’s not just Smith who thinks money is good. Aristotle too waves the flag of the rich. Aristotle was invited by King Philippos II of Makedonia to come live at the Makedonian royal palace at Pella and serve as a personal tutor to his son, Alexandros III (better known to us as “Alexander the Great”). King Philippos II was extremely wealthy and powerful and he certainly must have furnished Aristotle with a very fine set of arrangements. In his view, it is not only virtuous to make money, but simply to have money. On the other hand, Aristotle is rather keener on the spending of it than Smith. Famously, his role model, ‘Magnanimous Man’, ‘is one who will possess beautiful and profitless things rather than profitable and useful ones; for this is more proper to a character that suffices to itself’. And Aristotle explains that Magnanimous Man prides himself particularly on his parties, he says, 'Great expenditure is becoming to those who have suitable means to start with, acquired by their own efforts or from ancestors or connexions, and to people of high birth or reputation, and so on; for all these things bring with them greatness and prestige. Primarily, then, the magnanimous man is of this sort, and magnificence is shown in expenditures.'
He also presents his ethical considerations, 'the magnanimous man spends not on himself but on public objects, and gifts bear some resemblance to votive offerings. A magnanimous man will also furnish his house suitably to his wealth (for even a house is a sort of public ornament), and will spend by preference on those works that are lasting (for these are the most beautiful), and on every class of things, he will spend what is becoming; for the same things are not suitable for gods and for men, nor in a temple and in a tomb.'
So should people study money more than morality then? Well, most of the philosophers, including Smith, agree at least on one thing: that it is in the origins of societies that we find the origins of both laws and moral codes. In fact, in his Theory of Justice, John Rawls recognises the intimate connections between economic structures and morality. There he notes that the nature of the decision made by the legislator is not materially different from that of an entrepreneur deciding how to maximise his profit by producing this or that commodity, or that of a consumer deciding how to maximise his satisfaction by the purchase of this or that collection of goods.'
Plato recognised the material basis of his ideal society, even whilst making it clear that true philosophers would have no need for such fripperies. And although we conventionally imagine laws to be based on ‘right and wrong’, but Thomas Hobbes so effectively put it in the seventeenth century, in fact, they are based on selfinterest. Plato would not want to have money as the key to the moral life, of course. In the Republic, he briskly dismissed it as only a ‘means to an end.'
So, what do you think, Sir?' asked Mr. M. Mr. R replied, ''I'm not programmed to answer it,' as he stared ahead blankly, and for a moment, he froze, silent. Then suddenly, his body jerked and his eyes lit up. He said, 'But wait, we live in the era where science will not akcnowledge to silence someone's argumen. If I were told to choose silence or raising ducks, then I would choose silence and raise ducks,' and accidentally dropped the pen that had been twirling around by his fingers. Mr. M, who used to watch such panorama, said, 'Let me, sir!' then crouched down to pick up the pen. For a moment, he glanced down at the table, where two legs, made of steel, were lined with intricate wires. He said to himself, 'The programmers can't fix this robot!'
A few moments later, Mr. M stepped down the stairs of a building, greeted with a smile by his assistant and opened the car door. Mr. M nodded and smiled, and threw himself on the back seat. Mr. M's energy saving car, then whoosh through the gloomy night on a ghost town main street, which used to be nominated as the Capital City, but neglected and stalled, then it has become a dumping ground for Android robots. Looking into the darkness through the car window, seeking the stars, he hummed,
And all the stars, without a name
And all the skies, that look the same
And all the clouds, that fade, and then
Then all of this, begins again *)
The Moon closed the story, "Apparently, the issue is no longer whether greed is good or bad. for each of us has the answer. If I asked you, 'What do you want to be: a robot, being controlled by robots, or a better human?' The question is very simple and makes you laugh, cause all of us want to be a better human, and contibuting to a better humanity. Is it? Serously? And Allah knows best."
