Just when I thought I could quit Mitt Romney, the Boston Globe publishes a long analytical piece about his presidential campaign. Most of it is standard stuff — his ground game was insufficient, the 47% remarks hurt him, his voter tracking app didn’t work on election day, he didn’t fight back against the Obama campaign’s early negative advertising . . . But the main point the article makes is that his campaign may have made a mistake by not focusing on what a great guy Mitt Romney is. One example the article cites is the time he helped a dying 14-year-old boy write his will:
Ann Romney, who had long pushed for more focus on her husband’s personal story, made her point directly in a convention video: “If you really want to know how a person will operate, look at how they’ve lived their life.” A Vermont couple appeared on the convention stage to tell the emotional story of how Romney, as a Mormon leader, helped their dying 14-year-old son, David Oparowski, write his will. “How many men do you know would take the time out of their busy lives to visit a terminally ill 14-year-old and help him settle his affairs?” Pat Oparowski, the boy’s mother, said in her speech.
So, am I missing something about Mormons, or about rich people, or what? What kind of 14-year-old needs to “settle his affairs”? What kind of affairs does he need to settle — who to bequeath his Xbox to? And why does he need Mitt Romney to help him? (To answer the mother’s question, I bet a ton of men would take the time to help a dying kid.)
There seems to be no question that Romney is personally a good and generous guy. (On the other hand, he’s richer than God, so it’s not like his own family is going without basic necessities if he spreads his wealth around.) But there is also just something kind of off about him. I have a feeling that the more people got to know the real Mitt Romney, the less they would like him. If this was the kind of story the campaign was being pushed to tell, I think they made the right decision to drop the heartwarming personal stuff and focus on lying about outsourcing Jeep production to China and whatnot.
OK, I’ll shut up now.
generally have two ways of approaching lying (and other moral issues): the utilitarian way or the Kantian way. If you go the utilitarian route, you can ask whether a particular lie adds to or subtracts from human happiness. If you go the Kantian route, you can ask whether there is a categorical imperative not to lie, because that’s the way people should behave. Harris dismisses Kant rather breezily, so we’re left with a utilitarian discussion, in which he brings up various cases where it might seem that lying would be a good idea, but it turns out not to be. People lie to grandma about her terminal cancer, and everyone is worse off. Harris tells a friend that his screenplay sucks, and the friend turns out to be grateful. That sort of thing. So, the world is better off if we don’t lie.