Conscience is the last court of appeal. “If I am utterly convinced, how else could I act? Morally speaking it would be wrong to do anything else. My judgement may be faulty but my moral sense cannot be queried.” As a society we don’t just accept conscience, we expect it. We reject its opposite, the Nuremberg defence of “I only did what I was ordered to do”.
But we do place limits on conscience. Some Muslim student doctors are now telling their medical ethics lecturers that the right of conscience should extend to them, as Muslim men, refusing to examine the bodies of women. They have been given short shrift, but it is problematic, in logic, to say why conscience may be exercised over abortion but not over gender. (Or in the case of Catholic adoption agencies, over sexuality). In the end the answer is empirical rather than logical: that is what this society has decided.
That raises the question of what a society wants in a leader. “My duty was to put the country first,” said Mr Blair at Trimdon. We like that when his view of the national interest concurs with ours. But what about when it does not? When George Bush declared that he was not signing Kyoto because climate change curbs were not in America’s best interest, most outsiders bridled, yet Bush was doing what he saw as a leader’s job. Rowan Williams does the same when he suppresses his personal views on homosexuality in favour of a strategy to try to keep the Anglican Communion together; he sees that his role supersedes, at present, his personal views.
But Tony Blair offers a different view. “My duty was to put the country first,” he said at Trimdon, and “in time you realise that putting the country first doesn’t mean doing the right thing according to the prevailing consensus or the latest snapshot of opinion. It means doing what you genuinely believe to be right. That your duty as prime minister is to act according to your conviction.”
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Paul Vallely: 'Good faith' isn't usually good enough
Conscience is the last court of appeal. “If I am utterly convinced, how else could I act? Morally speaking it would be wrong to do anything else. My judgement may be faulty but my moral sense cannot be queried.” As a society we don’t just accept conscience, we expect it. We reject its opposite, the Nuremberg defence of “I only did what I was ordered to do”.
But we do place limits on conscience. Some Muslim student doctors are now telling their medical ethics lecturers that the right of conscience should extend to them, as Muslim men, refusing to examine the bodies of women. They have been given short shrift, but it is problematic, in logic, to say why conscience may be exercised over abortion but not over gender. (Or in the case of Catholic adoption agencies, over sexuality). In the end the answer is empirical rather than logical: that is what this society has decided.
That raises the question of what a society wants in a leader. “My duty was to put the country first,” said Mr Blair at Trimdon. We like that when his view of the national interest concurs with ours. But what about when it does not? When George Bush declared that he was not signing Kyoto because climate change curbs were not in America’s best interest, most outsiders bridled, yet Bush was doing what he saw as a leader’s job. Rowan Williams does the same when he suppresses his personal views on homosexuality in favour of a strategy to try to keep the Anglican Communion together; he sees that his role supersedes, at present, his personal views.
But Tony Blair offers a different view. “My duty was to put the country first,” he said at Trimdon, and “in time you realise that putting the country first doesn’t mean doing the right thing according to the prevailing consensus or the latest snapshot of opinion. It means doing what you genuinely believe to be right. That your duty as prime minister is to act according to your conviction.”
Read it all.