Is it wrong to break a promise?
How do we make moral decisions?As a member of a hospital ethics committee, I wrestled with moral questions that don’t admit of easy answers, questions that lingered for days or even weeks. The committee’s charge was to help physicians, nurses, social workers, patients, and their families navigate morally challenging situations.
The most difficult cases involved helping family members decide whether to discontinue life support for a loved one or stop treating a loved one’s underlying illness, thereby hastening their death.
I recall a particular case involving Mary, who told us she had promised her husband she’d do everything possible to keep him alive. The medical team’s prognosis was clear: There was no chance of recovery. Continuing treatment would prolong his life for a few days, maybe a week, and during this time, he’d suffer significant pain. The other option was to withdraw life-support, which would hasten Mary’s husband’s death, thereby reducing the amount of suffering he’d experience.
Mary understood all of this. She believed stopping treatment would be the best thing for her husband. But she kept reminding the committee (and, I suppose, herself) that she had promised her husband she’d do everything she could to keep him alive.
If Mary asked you for advice, what would you tell her? Should she agree to terminating life support and aggressive treatment, even if it meant breaking her final promise to her husband? Or should she refuse to terminate treatment, even if that meant her husband would suffer unnecessarily? What would you tell her to justify your advice?
While our committee discussed this case, I found myself reflecting on Immanuel Kant, one of the great Western philosophers (discussed in Chapter 5), who argued that breaking a promise was always wrong. There are no exceptions. Then I thought of Alexander Hamilton, who similarly stated: “A promise should never be broken.”
Who was I to argue with them?
I didn’t have to -- others already had. John Stuart Mill, also one of the greats, argued that if breaking a promise leads to better consequences, then breaking it is the right thing to do. On a lighter note, self-help author Soul Dancer, in a book entitled
Pay Me What I’m Worth: Say it. Mean it. Get it., said: “Promises, like gardens, need weeding from time to time to produce healthy results.”
But perhaps one of my student’s said it best: “Surely, if in a fit of anger, I promise to break someone’s legs or take their life, I shouldn’t keep my promise.”
I wondered if should share these insights with Mary. Would telling her about Kant, Mill, Soul Dancer, or my student help? Or would this just make her decision even more complicated?
How Do We Make Ethical Decisions or Judgments?As I briefly explained in the Introduction, when making moral decisions or judgments, we typically start by looking for a “rule of thumb” that seems to fit the case. I’m confident that most of you, when thinking about the ethics committee case discussed above, recognized that you embraced the rule of thumb “It’s morally wrong to break promises.” Perhaps this initially led you to conclude Mary shouldn’t break her promise and should try to do everything possible to save her husband’s life.
However, we also know there are exceptions to these rules of thumb. When confronting a complex or confusing choice, we may initially acknowledge a rule of thumb applies to the situation, but after thinking about it for a little while or learning more details, we may discover or have a hunch that the situation we’re confronting might, in fact, be an exception to the rule.
Sometimes, these exceptions arise when more than one rule of thumb applies to the situation we’re in, and these rules of thumb conflict with each other. One of the applicable rules of thumb tells us we should do X, while a different rule of thumb tells us we should do something other than X.
Imagine I promised I’d take you to dinner at a nice restaurant, but I don’t have enough money to do this. The only way I can think of to get the money is to ask my brother if I could borrow it, but I know the only way he’d lend it to me is if I lied and told him I needed money to pay my electric bill. Two rules of thumb are conflicting with each other: 1) It’s wrong to break a promise; and 2) It’s wrong to lie. In this situation I must violate one of the rules of thumb. I don’t have a choice. I can either lie to get the money and then keep my promise to take you to dinner. Or I can follow the rule “It’s wrong to lie,” which will result in me breaking my promise to take you to dinner.
There are a variety of other reasons or factors that might lead us to conclude or at least question whether we should break a rule of thumb. These include situational, circumstantial, and historical factors.
Kristen’s Promise I once read a short novel,
Kristen’s Promise, to my daughter and son. This novel illustrates the idea that details matter and sometimes there are exceptions to rules of thumb like “It’s wrong to break a promise.”
In this historical novel for young teens, Kristen is walking to school with her dog, Caro. Caro hears something and runs down a tree-covered hill. Kristen then hears another dog growl and runs down the hill fearing this dog will attack Caro. At the bottom, the first thing she sees a boy with a rifle aimed at her dog. Then she sees a big, black, growling dog sitting on a pile of stones and a covered wagon on its side.
After restraining Caro, Kristen asks the boy what happened. At first, he tells her to leave him alone, but after some coaxing, he tells her his name is Ezra and explains that he and his mother were traveling to California to meet his father, and then they had an accident.
Kristen offers to help the boy and says her father can fix the wagon. Ezra insists she leave him alone and asks her to promise she won’t tell anyone about him. She makes the promise.
The next morning, Kristen leaves for school without Caro. She goes to the clearing where she met Ezra and is met by barks from the big, black dog that’s still standing on the pile of rocks. Then she sees Ezra. He seems thin and weak, and she offers him and his dog some food. She notices traces of tears on Ezra’s cheeks and again invites him to her house. She explains he can stay with her family until his mother returns. She even offers to start a search party for his mother, who might be lost or hurt.
Ezra finally admits his mother was killed when a tree fell on her after the accident, and he buried his mother under the pile of rocks that the big dog wouldn’t leave. He explains he promised his mother before she died that he’d stay with the wagon and reminds Kristen she promised not to tell anyone about him.
Kristen returns to the road she took to school but quickly turns around and goes back home. She breaks her promise and tells her father everything. She and her father return to the clearing, and her father tells Ezra how much courage he has. He says that even though Ezra promised to stay with the wagon, his mother would have wanted him to leave if staying wouldn’t make anything better.
The novel ends with Kristen’s father telling her she did the right thing when she told him about Ezra. She made a great choice, and this was true even if though she promised Ezra she wouldn’t tell anyone about him.
When I read this novel to my children, I especially liked it because it was meant to teach teen readers about the complexity of morality. Small children are taught to obey simple rules, like “Lying is wrong” or “Breaking promises is wrong,” but the main point of this book was we should usually keep promises, but there are times when we shouldn’t. The rules we’re taught as children are really rules of thumb. If keeping a promise, for example, will lead to horrible consequences, breaking the promise may be the right thing to do. If I remember correctly, I told my children this applies to other things as well, like keeping secrets or lying.
The Nature of Promise KeepingLet’s explore what underlies rules of thumb. Why is it that it’s wrong to steal, lie, and break promises? Why is it that it’s morally right to help those in need of assistance, to repay our debts, or to act charitably?
If someone were to ask an ethicist, or you or I, what underlies the rule of thumb “It’s wrong to break a promise,” several different explanations might be offered. If you had to explain why we embrace the rule of thumb “It’s wrong to lie,” you could probably provide one or several reasons. You might say that if we lie, we break one of the Ten Commandments – Thou shalt not lie – and that gives you a reason to embrace the rule of thumb “It’s wrong to lie.” Most of the time, if we’re pushed, we can think of several reasons.
What about promising? Why is it wrong to break promises?
Before answering these questions, it might be helpful to explore the nature of promises. Philosophers and ethicists have constructed numerous complex analyses of what is a promise, but let’s keep it simple. We might say making a promise is basically saying that one intends to do something (or refrain from doing something) in the future. Promises are understood as being relational and can be conceived of as a deal or agreement between two people: the promisor (the one who makes the promise) and the promisee (the one who receives or accepts the promise).
Promises only work or make sense if the promisee trusts the promisor. If I ask a friend to lend me some money and promise to repay them in three weeks, they’ll be disinclined to accept my promise and lend me the money if in the past I broke my promises and they believe I don’t take promises seriously.
Some have suggested that promises only make sense within a healthy “institution of promise keeping.” If we believe most people can be trusted to keep promises, we’re more likely to accept the terms of a promise, and this is the case even if we don’t know the promisor well. If, however, people stop keeping their promises, the whole system or institution falls apart. The words “I promise” lose their meaning and we all lose the benefits of the institution.
Consider a scenario in which you recently moved into a new apartment. Your new neighbor knocks on the door and asks if they can borrow 20 dollars to buy medicine for their child, promising to pay you back at the end of the week when they get paid. If you trust that people usually keep their promises (and you have the money), you’re likely to accept their promise and lend the money or at the very least consider doing so. If, on the other hand, you think most people don’t keep their promises, you’re less likely to even consider accepting their promise and lending the money. (That’s not to say that you won’t just give them the money, but that’s different.)
Why Is It Usually Wrong to Break Promises? So, why do we embrace the rule of thumb “It’s morally wrong to break a promise.”? I suggest it’s more than just being nice.
First, and perhaps foremost, not keeping a promise is usually unfair to both the promisor and the promisee. If I promise to help you move next week if you help me move this week, and I break the promise even though you helped me, you don’t get the benefit (help moving) you deserved, while I received a benefit (help moving) I didn’t deserve. I repeat, that’s unfair.
Second, breaking promises erodes trust in relationships. Many of us believe that friendships and other relationships have intrinsic value (they are valuable without regard to whether they provide benefits) and diminishing trust harms friendships and other relationships.
Third, and closely related to the first, not keeping promises frequently harms others. Most of us believe we shouldn’t intentionally harm others or embrace a rule of thumb like “It’s morally wrong to intentionally harm others.” If intentionally breaking promises harms others, it follows that it’s wrong to intentionally break promises. Staying with the moving example, if you hadn’t relied on me to help you, you might have tried to find someone else to help. But you counted on me to keep my promise and help you move next week and didn’t even try to find others to help. When I don’t show up, you’re in a worse position than you would have been in if you hadn’t relied on me keeping the promise. I harmed you. Not only that, but the time you spent helping me move could have been spent doing something that benefited you or was more enjoyable. You could have cleaned your house, spent time with a friend, or taken a walk in the woods. You lost this opportunity.
Fourth, some say we have control over very little in life, but one thing we can control is our own behavior and whether we live with integrity. If we promise to do something and then break the promise, our integrity is damaged. Of course, we had control over this (assuming it was possible to keep our promise) and could have maintained our integrity, but we didn’t.
Finally, as suggested above, if promise-keeping is indeed an institution, breaking promises harms this institution. The result is fewer people agreeing to promises and the societal benefits associated with promises will be decreased or even lost.
It may now be clearer as to why we believe that Kristen’s decision to break her promise to Ezra was the right thing to do. Unlike many cases where breaking a promise is unfair, Kristen’s behavior didn’t involve any unfairness to Ezra, and Kristen didn’t receive any unearned benefits. Nor did she harm Ezra. In addition, she didn’t sully her reputation or injure her relationships with others. In fact, breaking the promise strengthened her relationship with her father (and maybe others, even Ezra), who believed she demonstrated maturity and good sense. I’ll leave the rest of this analysis to you.
Some Different Scenarios Now let’s consider a different scenario. What if breaking a promise benefits the promisor?
Imagine we’re friends, and several months ago I told you I was fired from my job and asked you if the company you worked for was hiring.
“I’m going to be completely honest with you,” you replied, “we’re trying to hire someone to work in my office, but I’m worried that if they hire you, I’ll look bad. You’re more qualified than me. I think I’ll be up for promotion in a few months, but if you’re working in the same office, they might offer the promotion to you.”
I responded, “I promise I won’t apply for a promotion until you are promoted or quit your job.”
You accepted my promise and agreed to tell your boss about me, and after being interviewed, I was hired. Several months later I learn that one person in our office will be promoted, and I’m thinking about applying.
In this case, breaking the promise would be unfair and might harm you. With your assistance, I obtained a job that I couldn’t get without your assistance. Fairness dictates I should keep my part of the bargain. Also, by breaking the promise, I’m potentially harming you as you won’t get the promotion if they give it to me. You wouldn’t be subject to this harm if you hadn’t relied on my words or trusted me. Again, I’ll leave the rest of this analysis to you, but it appears that breaking this promise would be wrong for some of the reasons discussed above.
Let’s consider another example that involves promising. Imagine you’re in the grocery store with a friend. You reach for your wallet (or phone), only to discover you left it at home. Your friend offers to pay for the groceries as long as you promise to pay them back as soon as you get home. You agree and make the promise. After putting away the groceries, your friend reminds you that you promised to repay them.
Would it be morally right to break your promise and not repay your friend? Why or why not?
Your initial response might be: Of course you should repay you friend. You promised and breaking promises is wrong (a rule of thumb).
If you asked me whether it was right to repay your friend, I’d probably begin by saying, “It depends. It’s usually wrong to break a promise – that is, you and I embrace the rule of thumb “It’s wrong to break a promise” -- therefore repaying your friend is
probably the right thing to do. Before committing to a final answer, however, I want to learn more about the situation.” Details matter.
What if, on the drive home, you learned your friend was a recovering heroin addict and intends to use the money to buy heroin? Suddenly, it’s not at all clear breaking your promise would be wrong. In fact, it might be wrong to keep your promise. Or maybe your friend is on a diet and wants to use the money to buy a pie and a quart of chocolate milk. In this case, I truly don’t know whether it would be wrong to break your promise. Again, I’d want to learn more about the situation and your relationship with your friend.
Suppose it’s a close friend, and she told you: “You know I’m always on a diet, but I never told you I’m borderline diabetic and have some other health problems. I’m so tired of always watching what I eat. My doctors told me I must stay on this diet for at least two years, and maybe the rest of my life. If I eat the pie and drink the chocolate milk, I might end up in the hospital, but I don’t care. Right now, all I want to do is forget about my diet, relax, and eat some pie. And maybe, if I am hospitalized, my ex will feel guilty and want to get back together.”
What’s the right thing to do knowing this?
Ultimately, as I said in the Introduction, morality is complex or complicated, but not complicated like calculus or physics. We don’t need a formal education to understand the details of most moral situations. Rather, morality is complicated because it’s frequently not clear what is the right thing to do. We might believe we should do something, like break a promise or lie, but at the same time we believe we shouldn’t break a promise or lie. This is a somewhat complicated case.
Ethicists, and with practice all of us, can think of numerous ways of changing and complicating hypothetical situations, thereby making it difficult to determine what’s the right thing to do and revealing the complexity of the moral life.
Suppose the person behind you in the grocery line is a stranger. They told you they’re always forgetting their wallet, and several times in the past someone in line paid for their groceries. They want to pay their debt of gratitude forward and help you, but they asked you to promise to repay them as soon as you arrive at your house and have access to your wallet. You agreed. Finally, since you walked to the store, they suggested they’d drive you home.
While driving to your house, they told you they’re a diabetic and had been on a special diet for over six months. “I just want a break from the diet, and when you repay me, I’m going to my favorite bakery, where I’ll buy a cherry pie and a quart of milk.” They looked at you, maybe trying to see if they should trust you, and continued, “I have some health problems and there’s a chance I might end up in the hospital after eating the pie, but I’ll risk it.”
This situation introduces new factors and seems to be murkier. It might be right or even praiseworthy not to repay a friend if they’re going to use the money in a way that will possibly result in them being rushed to the hospital, but in this new case the person you promised to repay isn’t a friend. It’s a stranger. Might it be wrong to be so intrusive in the life of a stranger and break your promise?
At least for me, it’s less obvious that breaking the promise is the right thing to do in this situation. That said, I’m confident others disagree. (In chapter 7, I discuss why it might be permissible or even obligatory to put more weight on the well-being of friends, family, and others close to us.)
It DependsAs a certified philosophical counselor and an ethics professor, friends, students, family members, and others frequently ask me what’s the right thing to do. My favorite answer is: “It depends.” I’m not saying that every ethicist and every reader agrees with me, but I imagine that most of you will agree if you think about it for a little while. As I said, when we initially make moral decisions or judgments, we usually appeal to rules of thumb. But we can always think of exceptions. We might remember a short story, television show, or movie where breaking the rule of thumb was the right thing to do. Put simply, we need to know about the details leading up to a situation before we can assess what actions are morally right or wrong.
Sometimes I think that trying to do the right thing is quite similar to creating a piece of art. If you asked a great painter whether you should put a little blue dot in the corner of a painting, they’d likely respond: “I don’t know” or “It depends. I need to see the picture and learn more about what you’re trying to accomplish.” They might say that even though they wouldn’t put a blue dot in the corner, it makes sense for you to paint the dot. Similarly, when it comes to morality, there frequently aren’t simple answers. Details matter. Context matters. History matters. Intentions matter.
Back to MaryLet’s return to Mary and her end-of-life decision. The health care providers wanted to discontinue treatment because continuing it would likely result in more suffering for Mary’s husband, while Mary wanted to continue treatment because she promised her husband that she’d do everything to ensure he didn’t die. At the same time, Mary didn’t want her husband to unnecessarily suffer. Put differently, Mary embraced two rules of thumb that couldn’t be reconciled. She could abide the rule “It’s wrong to break promises” or the rule “It’s wrong to act in ways that cause others to suffer unnecessarily,” but she couldn’t abide by both rules. This is known as an ethical dilemma.
After the consultation with the ethics committee and medical team, Mary met with a social worker. Hospital social workers are like saints with excellent communication skills. I wasn’t present during any of their conversations, but 24 hours after meeting with us, Mary agreed to terminate aggressive treatments, even though this meant her husband would die sooner than he would die without these treatments.
Perhaps, during the course of several meetings, the social worker helped Mary realize that although she embraced the rule of thumb “It’s wrong to break promises,” she embraced other rules of thumb as well. Like almost all of us, Mary most likely embraced the rule of thumb “We should try to eliminate the unnecessary pain others are experiencing, especially if the pain is great and eliminating it doesn’t cost us very much.”
Again, I’m just speculating, but I wouldn’t be surprised if at some point the social worker asked Mary to think about whether she believed it was more important to keep her promise or to do what she could to alleviate the pain of someone she loved deeply. Presumably, assuming this is what happened, Mary concluded that even though at first it seemed wrong to break a promise she made to her husband, it wouldn’t be wrong if doing so would alleviate his suffering. This insight could have led her to agree to stop aggressive treatment.
How do
you arrive at answers when a rule of thumb doesn’t seem to apply or two rules of thumb give us conflicting answers? Do you believe it’s ever acceptable – or even obligatory – to break a promise to prevent harm to someone you love? Do our obligations change depending on the relationship we have with the person affected?
These questions are complex and don’t have easy answers. But exploring them helps us better understand how we make moral judgments and whether there might be ways to improve our decision-making processes.
Understanding Others’ Moral Decisions in a Divided AmericaOpen a news website or listen to a current events podcast, and you’ll likely encounter someone saying Americans are deeply divided, engaged in culture war, or more polarized than ever. Ironically, as mentioned in the Introduction, Americans overwhelmingly agree that division is a serious problem. A recent public opinion poll reveals 90% of Americans believe this.
Our divisions are often framed in terms of moral and political beliefs. We see or hear those on the political left – Democrats, liberals, and progressives -- criticizing the morality or political viewpoints of those on the right – Republicans or conservatives. Those who consider themselves to be religious might criticize those they believe are irreligious or not religious enough. Rural Americans often see urban dwellers as out of touch with their values, while those with higher education might criticize those without it. Of course, this is a two-way street. The right criticizes the left; the less religious criticize the more religious; urban dwellers criticize those living in rural areas; and those without higher education criticize those with it.
Maybe We Aren’t So Divided Despite this, I believe Americans aren’t, in fact, as divided they appear or are made out to be. Throughout this chapter I’ve expressed confidence in predicting how most of you will answer many of the moral questions I posed. I wrote: “I’m confident that most readers …” and “I imagine most of you ….”
I can make these predictions because I’ve learned that Americans generally embrace a remarkably similar set of moral principles or rules of thumb. I’m confident most readers (and most Americans) would agree that if we promise to do something, in most instances it would be wrong not to do it. And I’d bet that most of us agree lying and stealing are usually wrong, and we shouldn’t unnecessarily hurt others. I base these claims on conversations I’ve had with hundreds of people, public opinion polls, podcasts, books I’ve read, movies and television shows, and other sources.
Perhaps the primary differences between Americans become apparent when we confront the hard cases or situations that can’t be easily understood by appeal to one rule of thumb or a simple moral principle. Returning to Mary and the end-of-life case we started with, just about all of us embrace both rules of thumb that make the case difficult. We agree it’s wrong to break promises and we should strive to prevent unnecessary suffering. But in this case, we can’t abide by or follow both rules.
We Embrace the Same Rules of ThumbSome may conclude Mary should keep her promise, while others may believe she should prioritize alleviating her husband’s suffering. But notice this: even if you and I disagree, the disagreement isn’t over the moral principles themselves. Both of us embrace the same rules of thumb. Our disagreement is over which of the two rules carries more weight. You might put more weight on the “wrong to break promises” rule of thumb, while I might put more weight on the “prevent unnecessary suffering” rule of thumb.
This is an important insight. Many of the moral disagreements (and as we’ll see later, political disagreements as well) that seem to divide us are, at their core, not so deep. They often stem from shared moral commitments that are weighed differently.
Throughout this book, I’ll try to point out why I believe, contrary to what the politicians, pundits, and influencers seeking “clicks” (they want to demonstrate their stories are being read, and if they succeed, they get advertising dollars) want us to believe, we aren’t so different morally. If I’m correct, it’s important that we recognize this. After all, political and moral disagreements are tearing the United States apart and breaking up friendships, families, and other relationships. Learning that others embrace the same moral principles or rules of thumb that we embrace reminds us that we’re all humans struggling to do what’s best. This in turn makes it easier to respect, like, and care for those whose political and moral views are different from our own.
Further ThoughtsThe primary goal of this chapter was to explore the nature of promises and why we embrace the rule of thumb “It’s wrong to break a promise.”
Promises can be understood as a declaration by the promisor to do or refrain from doing something in the future. There are a variety of reasons as to why we should keep promises, including: fairness, not harming others, developing a reputation for being trustworthy, and maintaining our integrity.
While exploring the nature of promises, we began to explore how we make moral and political decisions. When we’re confronted with a moral decision, we usually begin by appealing to a moral rule of thumb (or a principle) like, “It’s wrong to break promises;” “It’s wrong to lie;” or “We should try to help people in need of assistance.” In most situations, these rules of thumb do the job. They tell us what to do. But sometimes rules of thumb aren’t enough or don’t apply. That’s why they’re called “rules of thumb.” When we say we embrace the rule of thumb “It’s wrong to break promises,” what we mean is that in most instances breaking promises is wrong, but there are some exceptions to this rule.
Frequently, exceptions to rules of thumb are present when following the rule of thumb will bring about bad or horrible consequences. Most of us agree, I imagine, that it’s wrong to follow the rule “It’s wrong to break a promise,” if keeping a promise will result in someone’s death, like in the story
Kristen’s Promise.
Breaking a rule of thumb may unavoidable when two different rules of thumb are relevant, but the two are in conflict. When that happens, we must look deeper, weigh competing values, and make judgments based on the particulars of the situation.
The final goal of this chapter was to begin exploring how others make moral decisions and the issue of whether Americans are as divided as we’ve been told. I suggested that claims concerning a divided America are false or largely exaggerated. If you were asked to come up with a list of moral rules of thumb or principles that you embrace, I’m confident that most of those “on the other side” would say they embrace almost all the same principles. Republicans and Democrats, people from the city and rural areas, and religious and non-religious people embrace the rules of thumb “It’s wrong to lie,” “It’s wrong to steal,” “It’s wrong to break promises,” “It’s right to repay our debts,” “It’s right to give to charity or help people in need,” and many others.
If we embrace the same basic principles or rules of thumb, I suggest it’s incorrect to claim we’re morally divided to a significant extent. Sure, we may disagree when these principles come into conflict, but even then we’re still working with the same principles.
In future chapters, we’ll continue to examine ways in which we make moral decisions when rules of thumb don’t apply and explore the moral/political divisions in contemporary America.
