Inexperienced and unworldly as many of we Dartmouth students are, we should nevertheless struggle with issues of moral dilemma. If for no other reason, it greases the wheels turning in our bright, still maturing, minds. "The Widow's Challenge, Part I and Part II" is an interesting series of Op-Eds and for this reason, I feel that it is important to delve into the question of whether it is better or not to let the widow burn and why this question even is relevant.
The relevance of the question lies in the nature of the question: what is the right course of action? Our British administrator friend does indeed have a problem on his hands, for he is perhaps not asking so much whether or not he should allow for diversity of belief but, moreover, whether in fact his own beliefs are anything as reasonable as the native ones of the native Indian culture.
What is the wrong with the taking of human life in the first place? What constitutes the taking of human life? These questions are important because they force one to place values on things such as life.
Ms. Alexander values "human life, all human life." If there is indeed an inherent value to human life, what is it? Are we to place a finite value on human life or an infinite value? Are the many worth more than the one? Are we to reason our moral adversaries that she might be allowed to live? If not, are we to use force? How much force is acceptable?
Was it worth the many who died during Britain's conquest of India so that our administrator might have the luxury of saving the widow's life and putting his conscience to rest?
Is the widow's life worth more than her people's way of life? And this way of life, is it the "good life?" Is there only possible one optimal mode of life?
And if there should be, and there is no universally recognized definition of the good life, is the mere life of more value than the good life? I should hesitate to answer Mr. Stevenson's challenge so promptly, as Ms. Alexander has done.
The fact is that we have no certain answers to the question about what the value of this widow's life is and no certain answers to questions concerning everything from slavery to sodomy. One might say "one must follow her conscience." So must the widow's people.
If the conflict is not resolved reasonably, force might ensue. Then are we decide the winner assuming that might is right? This is how conflict is usually resolved: millions dead, sons and daughters of a generation lost.
I cannot answer the widow's challenge with the authority befitting a British administrator in India. Perhaps I would be wiser to follow the course of Socrates and attempt to "persuade the laws." And if that were to fail, what next? Shall I disregard them, disrespect the customs of another people? And if another people were to do this to my customs, what should be my response?
The fact of the matter ends up being that we can validate none of what we do except by our sincerity, still dreadfully inadequate in the absence of authority. Perhaps we are better to act on pure instinct alone, or better yet what each of us should determine her own reason over instinct, or still more, act on some kind of moral ground, which precedes reason and instinct.
Whether that moral ground is common or personal, there is no possible way of telling whether or not it is the absolute moral ground on which all either stand or fall.
The most honest answer to this challenge with which I can respond is: "let the administrator do what he wants." This harmless relativism, on which a decision of life and death is made, will have to spice until humanity becomes open and honest with itself.
