ethics from eighteen june '21
I placed the mouse’s fidgeting body into the isoflurane tank. It went limp after thirty seconds from the anesthesia, and with mechanical precision, I transported it onto the surgical table, steadying its head with metal clamps and bolts. Staring at the motionless body, I was suddenly reminded of an old memory, and my present reality flashed to a scene of the past.
My six-year-old self skipped across the streets of Chengdu, China. Old men in loose sweatpants and white tank tops argued over the mahjong table, fanning themselves in the sweltering heat. Lanterns dangled over the facades of buzzing restaurants while moths darted across the scene, socializing with the lights and people.
One particular moth caught my eye. She was as white as the moon in a clear night sky. Eyeing her with fascination, my curiosity swelled, and before I even realized it, I had pinched her wings together. White dust from her scales became black upon my touch. My heart sank when I realized what I had done.
As my chubby fingers cradled the moth’s motionless body, I began to cry. Even back then, I knew that harming an innocent creature was unquestionably wrong.
Hiss. The isoflurane valve was leaking, and the sound jerked me back to reality. The mouse was still unconscious, its chest rising up and down as its lungs swelled and contracted. It was a living, breathing animal like the moth had been. So why had I felt such shame in killing the moth, but experienced no such emotion while experimenting on the mouse? I had always known that it was wrong to kill or harm, yet here I was, about to drill a hole into a mouse’s skull, and strangely, I felt justified in my actions. I knew my work at the lab would hopefully benefit Parkinson’s patients, and that this procedure was necessary to achieve that goal, but I couldn’t help wonder if the means to attain such results were inherently moral?
I peeled off my surgical gloves. Two weeks later, the mouse died.
I realized then that ethics was far more complicated than I had ever perceived. Ethical conduct was one of society’s most basic tenets, yet even after the mouse’s death, I still struggled to determine whether my own actions were moral or not. This thoroughly troubled me. The ambiguity of my actions ate away at my conscience, and I was compelled to reach deeper into my moral naiveté.
While my journey through ethical discovery began with the mouse, my experiences in Lincoln Douglas debate have ultimately shaped this journey to what it has become today. In Lincoln Douglas, we debate the moral implications of our actions, focusing on whether we ought to do something rather than if we can. Throughout my debate experience, many of my opponents have asked me to explain how society deems actions moral or immoral. Such a question seemed simple before, and I would respond by explaining that all rational citizens have the same concept of morality, that there were moral absolutes everyone followed. It was only after I had personally experienced moral uncertainty at the lab that I realized just how complex the question really was. Suddenly, right and wrong, just and unjust weren’t so clearly defined anymore.
Since then, I’ve debated opponents across the nation, catching a glimpse of the many diverse interpretations regarding ethics in our world. I’ve studied philosophers from Friedrich Nietzsche to John Rawls, even exploring the idea that our perception of morality is simply a religious ideal. Ultimately, I’ve come to realize just how subjective morality can be; after all, the whole basis of why we debate and why we have so many philosophies stem from this subjectivity. Now, as captain of the Lincoln Douglas debate team, I still don’t have the perfect answer to how society deems actions moral or immoral, and I still don’t know if I’m always making the most ethical decisions. But my moral uncertainty urges me to recognize and reflect beyond preconceived notions of right and wrong. My time at the lab and in debate made me realize that I may never completely end my journey towards ethical certainty, but this realization has only encouraged me to dig deeper into the moral implications of my own actions.
This conclusion may seem unsatisfactory, as endings that lack defined, concrete answers often are, and I was put to the test this year in accepting my moral ambiguity as my grandfather lay in his hospital bed for 52 days. For 52 days, my grandfather was hospitalized due to COVID-19. For 52 days, I had to watch on Zoom how doctors stuffed tubes down my grandfather’s throat, rendering him unable to talk and communicate. For 52 days, I had to listen to doctors explain kidney failure, lung failure, and life support. As I imagined my grandfather lying on his hospital bed, all alone because we weren’t allowed to physically visit him, I couldn’t help but wonder whether our family was taking the right steps in my grandfather’s journey. Were we subjecting him to more pain by keeping him alive or would it be more painful letting him go? As his condition worsened, doctors began asking about our plans. The ever-present question loomed in our minds: was it more moral to let my grandfather go and to end his suffering, or was it more moral to continue holding on and fighting for his dimming life?
It’s one thing to hypothetically understand ethical uncertainty, and it’s another to live and endure it. I thought I had accepted moral ambiguity as a part of life, but when it came to my grandfather’s situation, it tore me apart that I had to live with uncertainty over a decision as personal as death. I abhorred the fact that I didn’t know whether I ought to let go of my grandfather or to continue subjecting him to procedure after procedure in hopes that he could survive, and I despised how I didn’t know what was right from wrong.
While I loathed my utter helplessness in my grandfather’s ethically ambiguous situation, his subsequent death helped me finally process and accept that moral uncertainty is a cruel but necessary part of life and that every moral debate comes at a personal cost. How we embrace this cost is how we grow to become deeper, more insightful individuals. I know personally that I’ve become and will strive to become a more thoughtful individual, digging deeper into the moral implications of my own actions and appreciating both sides of an ethics debate in today’s ambiguous world.