I never imagined a low-speed car-chase could be so terrifying. Seeing the same car still behind me after a series of logistically illogical turns and one-and-a-half circuits of a roundabout confirmed I was being followed. The driver’s occasional lurches into the middle of the lane for aborted over-takes made me believe he intended to get in front of me and force me to stop.
I knew what I’d done to annoy him. He didn’t like the way I was crawling behind a cyclist I didn’t think I could overtake, even though it was a 20mph zone anyway. After some bobbing, weaving and a few bursts of the car horn he finally sped by, which I angrily responded to by a hand gesture and a few strong words through my open window.
Bad mistake.
At the junction ahead he stopped, changing the direction in which was indicating, seemingly undecided. When he settled on right, I used the room to his left to pass and turn, which prompted him to quickly turn the same way.
Once I had confirmed he was indeed following me the fear began to rise. In my mirror I could see a young man with a swaggering demeanour, the yellow sticker on his car windscreen suggesting he’d either hot-wired an abandoned vehicle or wasn’t the kind of person to bother picking up his parking tickets. Maybe all he wanted to do was to give me a piece of his mind, but I was in no hurry to check.
Exiting the roundabout, I approached traffic lights for some roadworks that were turning red. I jumped them, hoping to lose him, but he jumped too, even further. My mind was racing, not sure where I should head for or even if I could reach sanctuary before he succeeded in getting ahead of me. I headed for a supermarket, did a circuit of the car park, saw he was still behind me, stopped the car by the main entrance, leaped out after a short fumbling with the door I had already locked in anticipation of a show-down, and rushed into the supermarket pleading with staff to get their security and call the police. My pursuer soon moved on, I imagine chuckling at how well he had managed to scare the living daylights out of me.
I freely admit I was badly shaken. Of course, as dangerous encounters ago, it was tame. But I am privileged in being an almost complete stranger to the threat of physical violence. The last time I had experienced anything close to this was over 25 years when ago when a self-proclaimed drug addict followed me around the streets of Bilbao saying that if I had lied about having no money on me he would take it all, at a time when muggings by addicts wielding syringes claimed to be infected by HIV-positive blood were rife. And I had lied. By bizarre confidence it was the day I had cashed my monthly pay cheque.
Daily scenes from the war in Ukraine show this protection from threat is not to be taken for granted. Closer to home there are still parts of my own country where – if you are a certain age, at least – violence potentially lurks around every corner. And although young men are much more likely to be victims of violent crime than women, I am sure the fear of sexual violence is something too many women know very well.
It all could have been avoided if I hadn’t vented my anger at the dangerous driver. I don’t think I have anger management issues in general but I frequently voice my irritation at reckless drivers, whether I’m behind the wheel or more often a pedestrian. Obviously this incident has made me review that habit.
But would it be cowardice to keep schtum? Isn’t it right to challenge people who behave dangerously or seriously anti-socially? There’s a justice issue here: why should they get away with it?
Thoughts like these soon made me think of a Coen Brothers’ masterpiece, The Big Lebowski. Set against the backdrop of the First Gulf War, the film explores just this ethical question: should we allow people to get away with wrongdoing? Not according to President George Bush, speaking in a TV new bulletin in the background of one scene announcing, ‘This aggression will not stand. This will not stand!’ Lebowski takes a similar stand against the hoodlums who break into his house, beat him up and urinate on his best rug. ‘This will not stand, ya know, this will not stand, man,’ he tells the man he believes is behind the crime. And when Lebowski becomes tempted to let it drop, his buddy Walter stands firm. ‘I’m talking about drawing a line in the sand, Dude.’
The film shows the foolishness of Lebowski upholding this doctrine, as his pursuit of minor justice leads to the death of an innocent friend. By doing so, it suggests the wrongness of applying the principle in international affairs too.
And yet, right now, it seems right and proper to tell Putin that his aggression will not stand and to fight him tooth and nail. The moral of The Big Lebowski cannot be never stand up to bullies. It is rather, choose your battles. Be prepared to let somethings go because they are just not worth it, especially when the consequences of defiance can be fatal.
Deciding which battles to pick requires care to avoid another kind of injustice. It is tempting for me to resolve not to shout angrily at male drivers who look like they could be dangerous away from the wheel as well as behind it. But it would be awful if I continued to shout at old age pensioners and slightly built women, because they’re not likely to be packing a weapon or a punch. If the only criteria is ‘how likely I am to suffer if I make a stand?’, the most aggressive get away with their misdemeanours while lesser offenders pay the penalty.
I’m not yet sure how to resolve this but my feeling is that our first, default response should be to avoid confrontation, except when it is necessary to protect the innocent from direct harm. Only then should we think about it and decide whether this is a hill worth dying on, against an antagonist worth challenging., with all the costs and risks involved.
Sometimes we will conclude that it is better to let it go. The good are not always rewarded, the bad not always punished. Over a lifetime, we would do well to reduce this eternal cosmic injustice. But if we are too intolerant of it, we can end up creating more problems than we solve. I have no idea what would have happened if my pursuer had caught me. I am pretty sure, however, that it would have been bad enough to make me regret assuming that he had to be challenged. ‘This must not stand’ must not always stand.
News
I’ve got two pieces in the latest issue of Prospect. One is the second of my Philosopher-at-Large columns on the ethics of abortion and the other is a short interview with Michael Sandel on the limits of liberalism.
I continue to host the Royal Institute of Philosophy podcast Thinking Hard and Slow, ‘Mind-expanding long-form philosophy talks and discussions that are both rigorous and accessible.’ The latest episodes are A New Name for an Old Way of Thinking with Roger Ames, which examines a fundamental difference in emphasis between Chinese and Western thought, and Fernando Pessoa: The Poet as Philosopher with Jonardon Ganeri. My latest pitch for the podcast is that no one will want to listen to every episode but no one should want to listen to none. Take your pick.
Here’s your usual reminder that if you buy books online, you can avoid the tax-dodging giant and buy through my affiliate shop which gives 10% to independent bookshops and 10% to me.
On my radar
It’s always interesting to read two well-made cases for opposite points of view. In this month’s Prospect, sex worker Tilly Lawless stands up for ‘the oldest profession’ while in Aeon Rachel Moran argues ‘The reality of prostitution is not complex. It is simple.’ (And she also takes down the ‘oldest profession’ saw.) Also relevant to this debate is an old Kat Banyard piece for the the Guardian in which she questions the rise of the phrase ‘sex worker’.
I’ve been reading a lot about space food and cultured meat for a book I’m working on. One terrific resource is Table, which tries to cut across the often polarised and ideological debates about food systems. One of their fascinating podcasts features Channa Prakash, professor of crop genetics, biotechnology and genomics, who argues in favour of genetically modified Golden Rice. He also claimed that it was a complete myth that Monsanto had ever sued farmers who had accidentally grown their patented GM crops because seeds had blown into their fields from neighbouring farms.
I had heard this story many times and assumed it was true. There was even a film based on the case, starring Christoper Walken. But Prakash was right. Wikipedia says of this notorious court case, “The case drew worldwide attention and is widely misunderstood to concern what happens when farmers’ fields are accidentally contaminated with patented seed. However, by the time the case went to trial, all claims of accidental contamination had been dropped; the court only considered the GM canola in Schmeiser’s fields, which Schmeiser had intentionally concentrated and planted. Schmeiser did not put forward any defence of accidental contamination.’ More evidence that you should check everything, including anything I tell you.
That’s it for now. If you’d like to receive these fortnightly newsletters direct to your inbox, sign up below. Until next time, if nothing prevents, thanks for your interest.