The Re-Ethicist Strikes Again
This week in the Times Magazine, Patrick Filbin, of Bloomfield Hills, Michigan, writes The Ethicist, a.k.a. Randy Cohen.
His question:
"My wife and I traveled to the Caribbean with our chidlren, ages 9, 7 and 1. Before the vacation, I went to a local coin dealer and bought several old and strange coins. We buried these coins on the beach so our children could find "buried treasure." Our kids mark it as a highlight of the trip, but now I feel like a fraud. Have we crossed a line?"
The Ethicist's answer is, in my humble opinion, less than clear.
"It's a fine thing to play with your kids"—(
Re-Ethicist's interruption: Unless you're Michael Jackson!)—"but a dubious thing to lie to them. One way to distinguish bentween playing and lying is that play occurs with the understanding and consent of all involved."
Sounds like The Ethicist is about to lay down the law, doesn't it? But no...
"Thus you must figure out what your kids believe about buried treasure, something that will almost surely be different for the one-year-old and the nine-year old. Ask yourself how they would greet candid information.... This is not an easy question, but it's one on which ethical conduct relies, and nobody is better positioned to answer it than you and your wife."
With waffles like that, the Ethicist should open an IHOP.
The Re-Ethicist says:
Wrong!Mr. Filbin, you have some issues. You are lying to your children. Not only that, you're lying to them without even a good reason. Okay, if their dog died and you told them that Rover was chasing rabbits in doggie heaven, that might be okay. But to create an experience for them that will lead to happy memories—yet one that is based on a lie—you are screwing with their heads. You are a parent, sir. Not God. You exist to help your children understand reality, not to create it.
Now, it's certainly true that parents must sometimes be complicit in a lie—Santa Claus, the Easter Egg bunny, etc. The simple fact is that they don't have a lot of decision in such matters; the culture has forced their hand. On the other hand, going out of your way to turn your children into basket cases—that's just sick.
When I was a child, Mr. Filbin, my parents also took me to the beach. While there, I searched for interesting shells and seaglass. I also swam and learned to skip stones. Stuff like that. Once I picked up a crab, only to find that it wasn't nearly as dead as it looked. Ouch!
There's plenty of actual real life—and real living— on the beach, Mr. Filbin. No need to turn it into Fantasy Island. In fact, your question suggests that you have become so dependent on mass-produced "entertainment" that you somehow find nature insufficient by itself. I bet you took your Blackberry to the beach, didn't you? Time for a little soul-searching.
The Ethicist: Wrong again!
