Читать книгу The Protector Ethic - James V. Morganelli - Страница 6

WHEN JAMES TOLD ME he was writing The Protector Ethic: Morality, Virtue, and Ethics in the Martial Way, I was very happy. Partially, this was because he is a good writer and he should write. But most importantly, he is an expert on the subject matter—the ethics of the protector. This expertise comes from years of hard work and sacrifice in the physical disciplines of the martial arts, as well as in the intellectual rigors of formal ethics training and study.

I knew the book would be good, but the book is actually very good. It breaks new ground, not just for aspiring and practicing martial artists but for anyone who is concerned with—and would like to see a decrease in—human violence. I venture to say there is also much to excite those interested in the intellectual pursuits of philosophy. The book will be helpful for anyone trying to make sense of the natural law in a useful way.

The other value of this book is that it represents a fresh bridge between Eastern and Western philosophical thought. Particularly in America, we consider our martial prowess to be a hallmark. It is not. Our prowess is technology and resources, mixed with a little stubbornness and topped off with an organic moral sense inherited from our founders. Our martial philosophy is deeply flawed, as can be seen in the frightening numbers of American warriors who come back from their combat-related experiences with psychological and moral injuries.

The shortcomings of Eastern politics are self-evident, but the philosophical strengths of Asian martial thought are a treasure still to be mined. James does the mining in the context of Robert L. Humphrey’s astoundingly satisfying Dual-Life Value theory of human nature. James makes sense of the often less-than-literal nature of Eastern thought in a way that the reader will find new and worthwhile. When East meets West in this book, the reader sees that life is the superseding, absolute value that all humans share, regardless of culture or ethnicity, and that our ethical imperative is to protect life. Whose life? Self and others. Which others? All others.

And that is what the martial arts represent—a skill set to bring into action our intrinsic moral inclinations to protect and respect life. If the philosophy of the West can articulate why life is an absolute value, the martial philosophies of the East can teach us how to practice that value as an ethic.

I really believe that the world needs a refresher and clarification on the subject of values, morals, and ethics. And that is why this book is important now. And not only for martial artists. It is heartbreaking to see men and women who are supposed to be our leaders and role models in business, government, the military, law enforcement, entertainment, sports, and even religion failing to act morally. This holds dire consequences for the rest of us, not just directly, although we are often physical, political, or economic victims of their lack of ethics. But we are philosophical victims as well.

When we see our role models and leaders acting immorally (and succeeding!), we ask ourselves if we might be the patsies. If we may be wrong. We wonder if we should be doing what they are doing. It seems to be the road to success in the world—this world, anyway. They are doing it, so why not us? If we don’t do it, someone else will, right? After all, who is to say what’s truly right or wrong?

And there you have it: the disease of moral relativism. Modeled by our leaders with a chilling trickle-down effect on us all.

James proposes that we have become a nation (world?) dominated by moral and cultural relativism. Moral relativism means that if an attitude or action doesn’t directly injure or disrespect “my tribe” (country, race, color, ethnic group, religion, company, team, and so on), then it is OK. Anybody outside our “in-group” is fair game. Cultural relativism means that all cultures are equal, just different, and you have to respect all of them. These mutually exclusive concepts, often somehow lumped together, are both dead wrong.

You’ve heard the phrase “Everything’s relative”? Not quite. Almost all values are relative—different for me from how they are for you. But the value of life is not relative; we all share it—those in our tribe and those outside our tribe. Equally. Tribal values are relative; the life value is not.

Don’t overthink this—we all have it, or we wouldn’t be alive. And if we were not alive, we would have no need for our other values. Some of which involve respecting the life of self and others. Some of which do not. Life, therefore, is not only the absolute value; it is the superseding value by which all other, relative, values must be qualified.

James argues that we need not like or respect the relative or cultural values of others, especially those values that are dangerous to those outside our in-groups. But we must value and respect the life value of self and others—all others. When we demonize, or dehumanize, those outside our in-group—that is, those who do not share our relative values—we violate the sacred life value. And the conflict, and perhaps violence, and perhaps killing, starts. Guaranteed.

And from this arises James’s perception of a warrior. A protector of life. Whose life? Self and others. Which others? All others. Can we separate the relative values of others’ beliefs and actions, some of which may be moral, neutral, or immoral, from the absolute value of life and our respect for it? That’s the discipline of the warrior. And James clarifies the philosophical basis for this transcending imperative.

James’s book, I believe, will ultimately be viewed as one of the most unique and helpful books on martial philosophy ever written. And, as an added benefit, it is a very entertaining read.

Enjoy it, think about what he says, and share the insights with your family and friends.

Jack Hoban, president, Resolution Group International LLC, author of The Ethical Warrior

“I’M AT LAUGHING MAN TAVERN in Washington, DC.”

This is the last tweet of Kevin Joseph Sutherland. It’s dated July 3, 2015.

In the early afternoon of July Fourth, Sutherland boards the Metro Red Line to meet friends downtown to watch fireworks. He is twenty-four, has recently graduated from American University, and has been hired as a digital strategist for a DC firm.

Just before 1 p.m. another passenger, eighteen-year-old Jasper Spires, tries to take Sutherland’s cell phone. He resists. They tussle. And now it’s a beating. Ten other passengers watch.

Spires pulls a pocketknife and stabs Sutherland more than forty times. He stomps him and kicks him. He dropkicks his head and even destroys the phone he originally tried to steal, smashing it against Kevin’s face.

Spires then turns on the others and demands their money. One gives him $65, another $160. He gets off at the next stop. He throws away bloody clothing, the knife, and a book bag containing his ID, and skips past police, who are looking for him.

Sutherland dies on the floor of car 3045. It’s the first homicide in the transit system’s four decades of existence.

Two days later Spires is arrested and charged with first-degree murder. A crucial piece of evidence: CCTV footage of Sutherland and Spires boarding at Rhode Island Avenue, where the train leaves at 12:46 p.m. It arrives at NoMa–Gallaudet, the very next stop, at 12:49.

The attack, murder, and robberies took all of three minutes.