We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Neither David Warren or journalists know what ethics are. An ethos is a way of seeing the world, and of behaving in the world, in accordance with personal understanding that seeks to make things better for the agent at the least, and for the people of the world at best.
Ethics are personal, morals are public. That is the strength, and the weakness of ethics, for the wisdom of a person's ethics depends on the wisdom of the person. Morals say that a deed is bad. Ethics say that a deed is bad, because. A moral code can be bad, but you dare not challenge it because it puts you in opposition to the established authorities. An ethos can be bad, and you can gainfully challenge it.
But the worst thing about ethics? Your code of ethics is your responsibility entirely, and no one else's.
#1
Alan Kellogg
(Link)
on
2008-08-06 13:50
(Reply)
But you do get his point, don't you, even if you dispute the word usage?
``Hence, the tendency of all lists of “journalistic ethics” to trail off into farce and nonsense. Ethics are for people who have no morals -- no humility in the face of the good, the true, and the beautiful. To tell the truth, to capture the “ring of truth,” requires instead a form of hard-earned simplicity. Seeking the true means seeking the obvious.''
resembles Vicki Hearne
``The child - of course, long before my fantasy IQ test, there is the episode in which the child runs after the men, crying. Crying out to ABC: ``Please! Help! They're going to kill my dog!'' And how foolishly, too, for it is to representatives of the media, in this and other episodes, that people who are afraid of losing their dogs have cried out, ``Help! Help!'' The media, by and large, have not answered this cry, and poetry cannot answer the cry, being promised to a different territory of the Ideal - to truth, rather than justice. The poet's response might be, if the muse approved the project, to sing a song of Spike, celebrating perhaps even the small boy's pride in Spike's vaunted prowess, and that would not help at all, not even if you explained to the Assistant Attorney General that the dog wasn't really a fighter and it was the boy's yearning for a dream of prowess that was being celebrated, which is to say the song's yearning for prowess and nothing to do with small boys anyhow, and justice would not be served thereby. '' (Bandit p.131)
So she calls it the difference between justice and poetry.