Exercise and posession of virtue

The exercise of generosity is good to have. So is its possession. How do the two compare?

One might think the possession of generosity only has value as an instrument towards generous activity. But that seems wrong. It is bad for one to be deficient in generosity even if one will never again have the opportunity to practice generosity (say, because there is no afterlife and one has been marooned on a desert island).

But at the same time, it seems to me that the possession of generosity is of fairly low value as compared to the exercise of it. Suppose I am going to be a coma for the rest of my life and there is no life after death, and I have a choice between two actions, one of which will be generous and the other will increase my generosity (e.g., I have a choice whether I should give some money to a hungry person or to spend it on neurosurgery to eliminate something that blocks me from having much of a virtue of generosity). It seems plausible that I should do the generous deed: living (even in a coma) with generosity is better than living without it, but not by much. Similarly, if I am going to be in a coma for the rest of my life, and I have the opportunity to have one last look at a beautiful landscape, that seems worth doing, even if the price of that look is that I will lose my eyes. It is better to have eyes than not, but if the eyes aren’t going to ever get used, the value of merely having them seems small.

Perhaps, though, in a full Christian picture of life that includes the afterlife, there aren’t going to be cases where one is choosing between the exercise and the possession of generosity. If before the coma I don’t do the generous deed, then maybe I am like the guy who buried his talent, and the generosity will be taken away from me in the next life. Or at least it won’t be increased a hundredfold. I am inclined to say that given the full Christian picture, the exercise of generosity (and other virtues) should generally be chosen over the immediate possession of generosity, but will tend to result in greater possession of generosity.

A metaphysics lunch

One of the students in my metaphysics class (which meets at 12:30 pm) emailed me if it would be OK if she brought in lunch. I thought: well, that's a polite thing to ask--some students will just eat their lunches in class without asking--and so I said yes, if it doesn't disturb people. And then I forgot about it. Imagine my surprise when today she brings big pots full of fragrant dishes, and proceeds to serve up a delicious lunch for all of us. Wow, and thank you, Hannah!

Some offers

1. Consider the offer: "If you give me a sound deductive argument that I'll give you $1000, then I'll give you $1000." It feels like something has been risked in making the offer. But surely nothing has been risked—neither one's integrity nor one's money.

Or is there really a risk that there is a sound argument for a contradiction, and hence for any conclusion?

2. Suppose Fred is a super-smart being who, while very malicious, exhibits perfect integrity (never lies, never cheats, never breaks promises) and is a perfect judge of argument validity. Fred offers me the following deal: If he can find a valid argument for a self-contradictory conclusion with the argument having no premises, he will torment me for eternity; otherwise, he'll give me $1. Should I go for the deal? Surely I should! But it seems too risky, doesn't it?

3. Suppose Kathy is a super-smart being who, while very malicious, exhibits perfect integrity and is omniscient about what is better than what for what persons or classes of persons. Kathy offers me the following deal: If horrible eternal pain is in every respect the best thing that could happen to anyone, then she will cause me to suffer horrible pain for eternity; otherwise, she'll give me $1. Shouldn't I go for this? After all, I either get a dollar, or I get that which is the best possible thing that could happen to anyone.

Do these cases show that we're not psychologically as sure of some things as we say we are? Or do they merely show that we're not very good at counterpossible reasoning or at the use of conditionals?

[The first version of this post had screwed-up formatting, and Larry Niven pointed that out in a comment. I deleted that version, and with it the said comment. My thanks to Larry!]