I taught ethics for many years. It was my area of primary study in graduate school; I wrote and defended a dissertation on the subject and later published a book trying to convince readers that one could think critically about ethical issues — one doesn’t simply have to go by hunches and gut feelings. But the thing I always found most difficult when teaching and thinking about ethical issues was how to close the gap between the determination of what is right and wrong and actually doing what one has decided is right.
For example, let’s say I live in a border state in the American Southwest. My government has decided to build a wall to keep the Mexicans out of this country and I am aware that the local police randomly arrest Mexicans off the streets, whether they are here legally or not, and keep them locked up for days at a time. I fear for the lives of my family because I am aware that many of these people who are here from Mexico are poor and unable to find work; as a result I worry that they are likely to steal from me and possibly harm my family. It matters not whether these people actually pose a threat to my family: what is important here is the perception that this may be so, because that is my primary motivation. In any event, I know that from an ethical perspective determination to keep “foreigners” out is wrong, as are the racial profiling and the false arrests. But I support the efforts of my government and the actions of the police because it seems to be a way to keep my family safe.
Note the conflict here between the ethical considerations of the rights of the Mexicans to share our way of life if they so choose — certainly as much right as we had, if not more, to take this country away from the native people. Human rights are based on the capacity to make moral choices, according to Immanuel Kant. And the Mexicans have that capacity as surely as I do. So, on the one hand, I must recognize their rights while, on the other hand, I experience fear and suspicion of those who are different from me and I support steps I know are wrong in order to keep my family safe. Here’s the gap between what I know is right and my ability to act on that knowledge. In the best of all possible worlds, where everyone does the right thing, I would welcome the Mexicans to my town and make an effort to ease their transition to a new way of life. But this is not the best of all possible worlds. This is the real world where people base their actions on perceived danger, real or not, and act out of ignorance or on impulse rather than on sound reasoning.
In my book I distinguish between justification, explanation, and rationalization in ethics. The first is the ability to find sound ethical reasons to support a claim. I know, for example, that the right thing to do in my example is to treat all humans, including “foreigners,” with respect. An explanation simply accounts for my determination to act as I do. I can explain my reluctance to welcome those who differ from me even though I cannot justify my actions: I fear for my family’s safety. And finally, I find it easy to rationalize my actions: it’s what everyone else is doing so why shouldn’t I? The latter is an attempt to find bogus reasons for what we are inclined to do anyway. One would like to find sufficient justification for doing the right thing. But, as Dostoevsky noted in several of his novels, the problem is frequently not one of justification, explanation, or rationalization but of reconciliation — to the fact that at times we must do the thing we know is wrong.
In the end the gap is still there. I may know what is right, but I am unable to do it even though I can rationalize and even explain it. I cannot justify my actions from an ethical perspective. I know I am not doing the right thing. Knowing what is right and doing what is right are two entirely different things. How to close the gap between thought and the real world which as Machiavelli tells us is full of humans who are “ungrateful, fickle, liars, deceitful, fearful of danger, and greedy of gain.” In the end I have come to realize that this is not a philosophical problem; it is a psychological problem. Why do we find it so difficult to do the right thing?
hughcurtler 
Hugh, I love your comment about Dostoevsky. I think the word reconciliation is more pertinent than rationalization. It becomes clearer when you look at a totalitarian regime, such as Nazi Germany. The common citizens saw the injustice toward Jews, gays, gypsies, etc., yet could not speak out in fear of being put on the list. The clearly reconciled their inaction toward an injustice with safety of themselves and family. Good post, Keith
My guess is that a good part of reconciliation demands rationalization. How else could one look at himself in the mirror each day? What we do is try to support our inaction with weak reasons that we know perfectly well could not stand up to independent criticism.
Wonderful, thoughtful piece, Hugh. We must make the effort to know more about our fellow man — their lives, their fears, their cultures, their reasons for moving to America if they are immigrants. The more we know, the more weapons we have against fear. It is hard, indeed, it requires us to leave our comfort zones, to learn about another person or culture. I’m reminded, though, of something JFK said when he announced the start of the American moon-landing program. “We do this, that and the other thing — not because they are easy, but because they ARE hard.” In other words, doing the hard thing is the right thing, the thing that expands our knowledge, our capacities, that makes us better.
Well said, as usual!