I’ve been watching Star Trek : Into Darkness today (only half way through, so no spoilers) and it brings up certain issues that are a perennial problem for me, so I thought I would give that bone another gnawing today.

But first, an aside : The speech that Sulu gives to convince Benelux Cambersnitch to surrender on Kronos is so freaking hot. If you want to know what I am talking about, click here.

Holy Hannah, Sulu is putting his thing down. Whenever I hear him say “If you test me, you will fail. ” I get shivers. The iron in his voice leaves absolutely no room to doubt that he will do exactly as he says, without hesitation.

And that is just so goddamned boss (and sexy!) that I would not have been able to write this article if I didn’t include it.

Anyhow, back to the point. In the first half of the movie, there is bitter interpersonal tension between Kirk and Spock because, after breaking regulations galore to save Spock’s life, Spock then files an honest and accurate report of what happened. That lands Kirk in trouble, and he view this as a betrayal by Spock.

Thus, it is a letter perfect example of exactly the sort of interpersonal conflict I have found myself in, and for the same reasons, so it kind of got me thinking.

I have a highly developed sense of right and wrong. That sounds like bragging, but don’t judge me till I have explained everything. This highly developed sense of right and wrong is very good for moral guidance and can even be very good in stressful situations, as it provides a calm, reasoned, sensible course of action.

As we all do, I strive to always do what is right and refuse to do what is wrong.

In this scenario, that makes me Spock. Spock did what he thought was right. Vulcans do not lie (despite what they say, they can, but they don’t). He gave the exact same kind of thorough, truthful, and accurate report he always gives in these situations. The notion of lying about it to keep Kirk out of trouble probably never occurred to him. He did right by his own beliefs.

But to Kirk, Spock stabbed him in the back right after Kirk went out of his way to save Spock’s life, and it’s hard not to agree with him. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you, he bit the hand that saved him from a horrible fiery volcano death. Even the slightest sense of loyalty would dictate that you return the favour and fudge the report to keep Kirk out of trouble.

And that’s where I get the title of this blog entry. The ethics that dictate Spock’s actions are logical, sensible, and quite frankly, hard to argue with. Taken in the abstract, his total honesty would seem to make him extremely noble.

But those ethics are very cold ethics. They are precise and logical and intellectually sound, but they allow for no such hot emotions as empathy, compassion, and loyalty. They are as precise and impersonal as mathematics, and operate entirely outside the need for emotion as we usually consider it.

That is how I operate. I suppose it is the ethics of a lonely but highly intelligent child. It’s the kind of ethics that grows well in the dark. If you do not interact with people very much, then such cool, calm precision in moral judgment can be very soothing. It is the ethics of the perfect outsider.

But if you do, actually, plan on interacting with your fellow humans, there are going to come times when someone asks you or expects you to do something you feel is wrong out of loyalty to them personally, or to some organization you both belong to.

And that’s where the terrible inner conflict comes in. If your ethics developed outside the world of direct interaction, then messy things like loyalty were just not included in it. You develop, by default, the idea that everyone should always do the right thing all the time.

Now I am not that unreasonable. I know there is a big difference between what people should do, in the abstract, and what one can reasonably expect of them. I would not fault a mother for saving her three children instead of a busload of strangers.

Heroism is not mandatory.

But still, this chilly reserve of mine has caused me a lot of problems in the past. The idea that you would go against your friends or family or whomever just because of your own inner sense of right and wrong is absolutely abhorrent to many if not most people. It’s inhuman. It makes you seem like some kind of robot to them, or worse, a kind of sociopathic opportunist.

And worst of all, it makes you unpredictable to others. They cannot trust you because, in their minds, you might turn on them any second. And if you can’t trust someone, you can’t relax around them, and you just plain don’t want them around.

That is the chilly pickle I have found myself in more than one time in my life. It is incredibly difficult for me to do something that I feel is wrong. The thought of it makes me nauseous. And that has lead me to keep a certain distance from others because I don’t want to be put in that position.

That would be fine, if I was a genuine loner. But I am not. I don’t actually want to be an outsider. I want the warmth and love that comes from connected with others. I want it so bad that it almost makes me cry just to think about it.

But I can’t imagine how I would integrate loyalty into my moral framework at this point. Luckily, both the hot and the cold route lead to a lot of the same conclusions. I am ferociously protective of the people I love. I take great pains to deal with others with sensitivity and understanding. I am a dedicated humanitarian who truly wants the best for everyone.

But all of these aspects of my moral being have a large logical-cold component in between intention and execution. And that means that my morality as expressed in the world may well deviate from expectations at any moment.

It’s no wonder that I keep finding myself considering the ethical traitors of the world.

I am terrified of becoming the other kind.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.