Ethics from the Barrel of a Gun
Is bearing arms indicative either of desiring to behave criminally, or of being a coward?
My defense of the right to keep and bear arms--even semi-automatic weapons--elicited the following response: "The bigger the weapon, the bigger the pussy!"
I responded to that using the seminal essay on the subject of bearing arms written by Eric S. Raymond: Ethics from the Barrel of a Gun.
In truth, we are called upon to make life-or-death choices more often than we generally realize. Every political choice ultimately reduces to a choice about when and how to use lethal force, because the threat of lethal force is what makes politics and law more than a game out of which anyone could opt at any time.
But most of our life-and-death choices are abstract; their costs are diffused and distant. We are insulated from those costs by layers of institutions we have created to specialize in controlled violence (police, prisons, armies) and to direct that violence (legislatures, courts). As such, the lessons those choices teach seldom become personal to most of us.
Nothing most of us will ever do combines the moral weight of life-or-death choice with the concrete immediacy of the moment as thoroughly as the conscious handling of instruments deliberately designed to kill. As such, there are lessons both merciless and priceless to be learned from bearing arms — lessons which are not merely instructive to the intellect but transformative of one's whole emotional, reflexive, and moral character.
The first and most important of these lessons is this: it all comes down to you.
No one's finger is on the trigger but your own. All the talk-talk in your head, all the emotions in your heart, all the experiences of your past — these things may inform your choice, but they can't move your finger. All the socialization and rationalization and justification in the world, all the approval or disapproval of your neighbors — none of these things can pull the trigger either. They can change how you feel about the choice, but only you can actually make the choice. Only you. Only here. Only now. Fire, or not?
A second is this: never count on being able to undo your choices.
If you shoot someone through the heart, dead is dead. You can't take it back. There are no do-overs. Real choice is like that; you make it, you live with it — or die with it.
A third lesson is this: the universe doesn't care about motives.
If your gun has an accidental discharge while pointed an unsafe direction, the bullet will kill just as dead as if you had been aiming the shot. I didn't mean to may persuade others that you are less likely to repeat a behavior, but it won't bring a corpse back to life.
These are hard lessons, but necessary ones. Stated, in print, they may seem trivial or obvious. But ethical maturity consists, in significant part, of knowing these things — not merely at the level of intellect but at the level of emotion, experience and reflex. And nothing teaches these things like repeated confrontation with life-or-death choices in grave knowledge of the consequences of failure.
Executive summary: It is being insulated from the responsibility to make the hard choices in life--especially ones involving life or death decisions--that makes one a "pussy." I would have far more trust in the ethics of a person who's lived a life where he or she has had to continually make hard ethical choices--and has done so honorably--than I would someone who doesn't trust themselves enough to have done so. If even you don't trust yourself to be ethical when you could easily decide to be evil, why should anyone else trust you?
Bees kill more Americans than assault weapons. Also ladders and autoerotic asphyxiation.
None of my guns have ever killed anything whatsoever, with one exception: I stopped one evening to euthanize a deer I'd just seen struck by an oncoming car. 2 - 22LR rounds into its brainstem, just as some veterinarians do for humane treatment of cattle.