Should I Kill My Roommate?
By: Wei Xiang
Tags: Self-awareness, Faith, Philosophy, Humour, Ethics

Okay, it might be inapt to compare cases like mine with a wild case of extremism. But to Kierkegaard, and to me, there isn’t much of a distinction. Not because he isn’t a consequentialist (he isn’t), but that he noticed that behind every moral decision lies an idea that moral philosophers often overlook: faith.

Faith isn’t easy. That’s why moral decisions in the real world are never easy. Think about it. Faith asks us to believe in something in the future now. For those of us who go to religious training camp every now and then, it wouldn’t be that hard. For my encounter, I would’ve needed to believe that the man was telling the truth, that my money wasn’t being cheated, and importantly, that I was right in giving money to a shady stranger with a half-decent story. To give or not to give, it’s difficult either way.

Photo by Ethan Elisara on Unsplash

Moral Actions Require Faith

Kierkegaard thinks that behind every significant moral decision in our life lies a paradox. This paradox is precisely the question I set out: should I do the things I’m not supposed to? Here, Kierkegaard juxtaposes what we are objectively (or socially) obligated to do and what we are subjectively (or personally) obligated to do. The truth is, these two hardly ever align. Kierkegaard notices this.

Let’s think about another popular philosophical argument utilitarian Peter Singer made. He argues that we are obligated to donate a portion of our money to charity regularly. First, we contribute to the overall well-being of our world. Second, it doesn’t cost us greatly to do so. But most of us don’t do this.

If we understand Singer’s reasoning, it would be close to infallible. We have very strong reasons to contribute to charity regularly. We would do well in living less lavish lives so that others can have barely liveable lives. Do we have any reason to do so? Yes, plenty, in fact. Do we have any reasons not to? Intuitively, not really.

I say ‘intuitively’, as most of us don’t genuinely believe that our donation would contribute to anything. Sure, you’d probably say it’ll help some random starving kid get a week’s worth of food. But in the grander scheme of things, I wouldn’t stake my life on that donation having any significant impact. I would think neither do you. That’s why I don’t give to charity. Or rather, that’s why I don’t subscribe to any charity programmes.

This is also a reason why many people are reluctant to vote. They do not believe in the significance of their votes. It is also why people are reluctant to recycle or turn vegan. I’m not vegan, because I sincerely think that my consumption of animal products has nothing to do with their suffering — fight me. But I do vote. On occasions where we are detached from the outcome, we often find it hard to believe that a single person can change the outcome — despite being constantly reminded that it does.

As we can see, one of the greater motivations behind action and change is belief. It even trumps reason. But it’s not just any belief. It’s faith in particular. It’s the belief in the unknown. Precisely because we cannot experience the consequences of some of our actions, we find it difficult or impossible to believe in our actions. We lack faith. So, we lack conviction. Thus, we don’t do it.

Faith is generated when we believe in our personal obligations. Vegans genuinely believing that they not consuming animal products spares them the responsibility of animal cruelty (it does), so they don’t consume. People who regularly and indiscriminately give to charity genuinely believe that their actions can save lives in some distant place, so they do it.

In cases like these, our objective obligation to do certain things exists; our personal obligation doesn’t. These tend to lead to frustrating outcomes where people aren’t doing what they should be doing. It’s also the reason it’s difficult to convince people to do supererogatory tasks. You got to make them believe in something they genuinely don’t — tough luck.

This is Kierkegaard’s critique of modern ethics. It tends to forget that moral actions and decisions require moral agents to have faith in what they do.

More interesting cases happen when objective obligations contradict with our personal obligations. It’s when Timmy wants candy, but mommy says he shouldn’t. It’s when I’m inclined to give that man my money when I really shouldn’t. It’s when Abraham attempting to sacrifice his son for God when he really shouldn’t.

Should I Kill My Roommate?

Studying abroad for many years taught me one thing: it’s better to have a room to yourself. I’ve had several roommates, I’d thought of killing most of them on many of my sleepless nights — I’m a very light sleeper. They’ve all done crimes that went undetected by man. One liked to drag chairs, creating a choral of screeches. One liked to sing (if ‘sing’ is even the right word) at 3 am while doing his economics assignment. Another liked mangling plastic bags when I’m asleep. They must be brought to justice.

Photo by Quin Stevenson on Unsplash

I’ve had voices in my head telling me to sacrifice them to the God of Slumber in exchange for good rest. To assure you my sanity, my conviction wasn’t as strong as Abraham’s.

Any sane person would deem that a preposterous thing to say or to even think about. But the interesting thing about thinking about dark things like these makes you wonder why, indeed, do I not kill my roommate?

I had very strong reasons not to kill him. But I also had very strong reasons to kill him. Philosophers like to say that if the overall reason to kill my roommate outweighs the reason not to kill, then I can or ought to kill. When it comes to evaluating the reasons, I couldn’t be sure which one actually takes precedence. I really want my beauty rest.

See, if I kill him, I’d end up in jail — if I get caught. I’d have a guilty conscience, and I’d have more sleepless nights. If I don’t kill him, I’d definitely not get any rest any time soon. I couldn’t be sure of either one of the outcomes. Which one was actually important to me?

So here, I’d need to believe in something that is unbeknownst to me: that I’d get my rest eventually. That’d the torment of lying awake at 2 am when I should be asleep will end soon. I wouldn’t have to kill him. I believed in not killing my roommate (fortunately, but boringly). And I don’t believe that killing my roommate would indeed give me a good rest.

But it’s not surprising that some egomaniac or religious fanatic in my position would have killed their roommates. We’ve had people blowing up buildings and killing magazine authors because they’d believe murdering people would give them ‘good rest’ when they go upstairs. Retrospectively, I wasn’t so different from them only that my conviction wasn’t as strong as theirs.