In the early stages of her career, Agatha Christie was known for writing engaging whodunits full of lively characters and utterly madcap plot twists. As she matured as a writer, however, Dame Agatha became less interested in zany new ways to kill the dead bodies, and more interested in pursuing heady philosophical investigations about the nature of justice. Many of the stories from her middle period have barely any mystery to them at all; the cast is so small and the events so clear that the focus becomes less on trying to figure out who the killer is and more on investigating the killer’s motivation and that of the detective exposing the truth — as often as not that indefatigable Belgian, Hercule Poirot.
All of which brings us to Curtain. Written at the peak of Dame Agatha’s career (though not published until the end), Curtain opposes Poirot with a villain who is utterly and unapologetically evil, who commits heinous crimes for the sheer pleasure of it, who cannot be dissuaded, and whose crimes, by their very nature, are beyond the reach of the law. If you’ve never read Curtain, beware the rest of this post, as it will be filled with spoilers. If you have, however (or if you don’t care), read on as we explore what Dame Agatha had to teach us about the relationship of justice, the non-aggression principle, and morality.
The villain in Curtain commits his crimes by proxy; rather than pulling the trigger himself, he convinces other people to kill his targets, but he does so not through threats or bribery, but by gentle suggestion. As a result, the actual act of killing is performed by a third party, with nothing to connect the mastermind to the crime; even the killer is convinced that the killing was his own idea! Of course, even if the crime could be brought home to the mastermind, which Poirot understands, it is impossible to convict him of anything, as he has committed no real or theoretical crime. He merely sows the seeds of fear, doubt, and hatred in the minds of others, and looses them to do wrong.
This leaves Poirot in a bind. He knows the truth, and he could expose the mastermind, but to what end? The law would be powerless against him. He attempts to confront the mastermind and persuade him to give up his sick game, but is told in no uncertain terms that the game will continue. What is Poirot to do? Innocent lives are being lost — both those of the murdered and of the murderers, who became murderers only after being persuaded by the mastermind. There is one sick, evil individual behind all of these tragedies. How can Poirot deal with a man who cannot be dissuaded from his evil actions, cannot be stopped by the law, and cannot be allowed to continue destroying other people?
Dame Agatha’s solution is brilliant in its anticipation of the ideas of Dr. Walter Block. Poirot deals with this seemingly invincible villain in a stunningly straightforward way: he murders the man in cold blood. Shoots him right in the forehead. Hercule Poirot is not a man who can style himself some vigilante or desperado, however; he must immediately come to terms with the fact that he too is now a murderer, and so he sentences himself to death for his crime. As he puts it in his final letter to his dear friend, Arthur Hastings:
Eh bien. I have no more now to say. I do not know, Hastings, if what I have done is justified or not justified. No — I do not know. I do not believe that a man should take the law into his own hands…
But on the other hand, I am the law! As a young man in the Belgian police force, I shot down a desperate criminal who sat on a roof and fired at people below. In a state of emergency martial law is proclaimed.
By taking Norton’s life, I have saved other lives — innocent lives. But still I do not know… It is perhaps right that I should not know. I have always been so sure — too sure…
But now I am very humble and say like a little child: "I do not know…"
Good-bye, cher ami. I have moved the amyl nitrate ampoules away from beside my bed. I prefer to leave myself in the hands of the bon Dieu. May his punishment, or his mercy, be swift!
Hercule Poirot — Agatha Christie — has the integrity to admit that, in this absurd limit situation, there exists no insulting, easy answer. What Poirot did was wrong, but he did it to prevent what was, to his mind, a vastly greater wrong that could not be corrected any other way. He then faced the punishment he was due, explicitly refusing to disguise his crime (confident though he is that he could hide the truth completely if he so chose).
All this dovetails nicely with some of Dr. Block’s answers to questions of libertarian theory pushed to the limit. In this exchange, his interlocutor posits a situation in which the survival of all of mankind is dependent upon a task that can only be performed by kidnapping and enslaving a few innocent children. Kidnapping and enslavement are, of course, violations of the non-aggression principle, and thus repellent to libertarians, which is as it should be. So then what, our challenger asks, would a libertarian do in this situation? Is there any way to save mankind?
Dr. Block’s answer is that the proper thing to do is to kidnap and enslave the children, and then face punishment for the crime:
Should the adults kidnap the child so as to save this last vestige of humanity? This of course violates the NAP, so it is unjust. But, doesn’t that mean that libertarianism spells the death knell for the human race? No. Because there is something behind and more basic than the NAP: libertarian punishment theory. That maintains that anyone who kidnaps anyone, child or not, must be punished. So the way to have our cake (uphold libertarianism) and eat it too (save human life — one of the key reasons for having libertarianism in the first place), is to have someone kidnap this kid, be given a medal for doing so, and then being punished for committing this heroic deed. I admit the latter is a bit jarring, but, I think, it follows the logic of the case.
Stated baldly like this, it does, as Dr. Block suggests, seem rather jarring. Upon reflection, though, not only is it correct, but it is the only possible correct answer. The essence of the problem is to remember that man was not created to satisfy ethical systems, but ethical systems to satisfy man. As such, any ethical system — even one as sparse as the non-aggression principle — can be fouled by an extreme limit situation that just doesn’t seem to follow the rules. When this happens, the correct response is surely not to jettison mankind, but to jettison the system!
When I was in college, I took a business ethics class. One day in class, one of the professors asked for a show of hands: who here believes that it’s important to protect the environment at any cost? Every hand went up. Every hand, that is, except one; dear reader, I was that one, and, when asked (with a knowing smirk) why I didn’t go along, I explained only that there is always a price that is too high to pay. If the price of "protecting the environment" (whatever that means) is, for example, the permanent immiseration of all mankind, then, no, I don’t think that’s a viable price to pay. If the price of economic sanctions on Iraq is half a million dead children, it is not worth it. If the price of upholding the non-aggression principle is the extinction of man, then what purpose does the non-aggression principle serve?
It’s tempting to think that this blows up libertarianism forever. Why, here’s that bee guy admitting that it’s okay to violate the non-aggression principle! I’d say, however, that, far from disproving libertarianism, this idea showcases its strength, in precisely the same way that Poirot’s actions, far from invalidating his career, showcased his integrity and commitment. What we are not saying is "go ahead and ignore the non-aggression principle." What we are saying instead is that, thanks to libertarian punishment theory, it’s possible to compare the price of violating the non-aggression principle with the price of upholding it, and thus it is possible for libertarians, on their own individual recognizance, to determine when keeping the non-aggression principle is simply too expensive (for example, when it would lead to the extinction of all life). Libertarian thinkers, after all, have always stressed that morality consists of more than merely the non-aggression principle; this is a prime example.
In short, what I’m saying is that the backbone of libertarian morality consists of three things: peace, justice, and a robust price system. This is news?