A Hostage Situation—Understanding Conscience and the Origins of Morality
- Kris J. Simpson
- Apr 7
- 8 min read
"You should be writing right now. Why are you putting it off? You’ll never become a famous writer if you don’t start writing — time is running out.”
“You’re right; I’ll push myself to sit down and begin writing; I can’t keep pushing this off; what am I afraid of anyways?”
“The reason you can’t start writing is that you’re not truly a writer; you’re an imposter; in fact, you’re delusional. Why not return to what you were doing before? This is pointless.”
“Nope, I’m going to force myself to sit here and grind out this article; I don’t care how long it takes.”
“Alright, do what you want, but I still believe this is all pointless. You have so many other things to tackle that are much more practical.”
A pregnant pause follows as the keyboard begins to produce melodic tapping sounds, the words appearing on the screen, and my inner voice falls silent — for the moment.
So what is this pesky entity that seems to be part of my psyche, has the ability to speak internally, sometimes with my best interests in mind, and can act like a much-needed critic? Yet, at other times, it appears to be the great sabotager, raining on every party I attend.
And can you rid yourself of it? I dare you to try; silence that inner voice, and I bet it will only grow louder. Anyone who has tried to muzzle their super-ego has learned two things: it is persistent and permanent.
It seems to act like a friend and foe at times, guiding us with various manipulative tactics to become the best version of ourselves. Yet, at other times, it appears to undermine us while we strive to express our best selves — so what gives?
Is it a feature, or a bug? Or both? Let’s explore why we have our “conscience” and the possibilities of its origins.
There are several theories of conscience, starting with our biology. Since we are a socially obligate species, it makes sense to have a feature of our psyche that prompts us to act in socially responsible and likable ways, cooperating with others in our social group and ensuring that we are not ostracized or, worse, kicked out of the tribe, as that could lead to a quick demise. If we are kind to others, we may receive some of that altruism back at scale so we can all survive harmoniously, sharing our food and our beds so we can make lots of babies for future generations.
From a neurological perspective, the neuroscience viewpoint emphasizes our prefrontal cortex, the modern part of our brain known as the executive branch. This area enables us to make difficult decisions by weighing all options and running endless simulations or “what-if” scenarios.
Additionally, the anterior cingulate, part of our limbic system and often referred to as our prehistoric brain, functions as a regulator, allowing us to morally discern before deploying. This regulation increases our chances of survival and enhances group cohesion by facilitating sound decision-making. For example, even though I don’t feel like getting out of bed, people count on me, and I don’t want to get left behind.
Then there are the social construction theories from influential psychologists such as Jean Piaget, who studied how children’s morality evolves from simply obeying rules to comprehending principles. He hypothesized that reason and education construct our conscience. Sigmund Freud referred to our conscience as the “super-ego,” which serves to flood us with feelings of guilt whenever we do not act in accordance with social norms, starting with the lessons from our parents and later influenced by our peers.
Theologically, conscience is viewed as the divine spiritual guide or the voice of God, transcending our biology and directing us toward virtue. The Golden Rule, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” is a common principle in many religions, promoting the primary rule of engagement with others.
Finally, existentialists like Søren Kierkegaard and Jean-Paul Sartre viewed conscience as our awareness of choice and our moral duty — the tension between who we are and who we ought to be.
All of these theories share a common idea, which was the motto of Alexandre Dumas’s novel, The Three Musketeers — “one for all, all for one.”
Our conscience keeps us alive and gives our social group better survival chances. It’s as much about you as it is about us, and even though we have forgotten that our early ancestors mastered fire since now we have AI and the latest iPhone, the truth is we haven't changed; we still need them (people), and they need us.
My next question is: how does another part of our psyche, defined by Freud as the Ego, or our sense of self, apart from others, integrate with our conscience? Does our conscience attempt to protect our Ego by preserving its sense of self and warning it of potential threats that could cause harm? Or does it balance this priority with the importance of the social group?
I believe there is a strong argument from an evolutionary biology perspective that conscience is merely a mental mechanism, inherently protective, serving ourselves ultimately, even when it paradoxically appears to act in goodness for others or for ourselves.
For example, the person who makes extra efforts to be polite and respectful to others only seeks the same treatment in return. They may not be especially polite if someone is not as gracious as they are, triggering them, then you might witness what the psychiatrist Carl Jung would call the shadow self — repressed impoliteness emerging from the shadows and presenting itself as the monster it truly is.
Still, to complicate matters, what about love — when we seek to do good for others while sacrificing our own needs?
To advance the thought experiment further, I believe you can extend it to the ultimate form of active service: the sacrifice of giving one’s life to save another. This would negate any form of self-serving because, with your impending death, there would be no self. This realization may lead a person to act for the greater good of another or an entire group, sacrificing themselves so that the others may live.
What about a hostage situation? I’m sure many philosophers have engaged in such thought experiments, as there are high stakes in life and death. If hostage takers give a person a choice — either they die, or a loved one does, such as a family member, spouse, friend, or even someone unrelated — which further complicates this simulation, as there would undoubtedly be a different type of conscience or feelings of guilt based on the relationship that person has with the others. This is an interesting scenario because a person would presumably have a short amount of time to decide — to sacrifice their life for another, or live another day.
Will they courageously, as Jesus Christ did, sacrifice themselves? It may not be a torturous crucifixion; rather, it might be a simple blow to the head or some other lethal demise. I’m not sure if that is really relevant, but what is relevant is the decision that person would make.
Also, if the roles were reversed, would each person in similar situations, with similar relationships to the person they would be sacrificing for, make the same decision I would? Or would it differ?
This raises the question: is this something that is collective, or is it individually determined? Perhaps it’s based on personality traits — who possesses certain characteristics that allow bravery to manifest? Or could it depend on cultural constructs and how much value is placed on humanism, or on the individual and how they were raised by their parents?
Now for the big question: how can conscience help us understand a person who risks their life to save another?
In another life-or-death thought experiment, such as a house fire, if a person must make a conscious decision to save someone from the flames and believes they will not perish — at least as certain as one can be — then perhaps they are simply hoping that someone will rescue them from an inferno if they were trapped inside the house. Is this the only reason they would ever find themselves in a life-or-death situation, believing they have a greater chance of survival when faced with the same misfortune?
Consequently, they might rush into the burning home to assist another person in need. One might contend that in this scenario, the individual enters the house hoping that someone else would act similarly for them; after all, one cannot expect another to do what they are unwilling to do.
Perhaps one could argue that a person would only rush into the home to confront their conscience. After the incident, as the sun rises the day after, what if they failed to rescue the person from the fire, leading to that person’s death? Wouldn’t their conscience torment them, inflicting unbearable guilt for the rest of their lives?
Let’s return to the hostage scenario, where the hostage taker presents you with a choice: it’s either her or you. She could be your wife, or your daughter, your husband, or your son, adding more emotional depth to this fictional story.
I believe this would affect both males and females similarly, especially in cases involving someone with whom they share a strong connection but notwithstanding others you may have no connection with, such as an innocent bystander.
Then what purpose does that serve? The individual who makes such a sacrifice would be aware they will be deceased within a 99.9% certainty, making the ultimate sacrifice, presumably with no conscience to torment them in the future, since they will no longer exist — what on earth is going on here?
Is this merely mechanistic biology and psychology guiding us toward such a decision, where we will face our end, or is there something more significant than the individual self at play here? Is it a collective mystery that cannot be comprehended through science alone, necessitating a metaphysical adaptation to grasp it all?
In real-time, as my conscience has been somewhat quiet while I write, this is my great dilemma, where I question what I would do in life-and-death situations. Would I try to save myself or give my life for another? I have gained insight into my character through certain events in my life, where I have been the person who stepped forward to sacrifice myself in a dangerous situation to help someone else, and in some cases, they were strangers.
Fortunately, as in the first scenario, I’ve never had a gun to my head. Still, I hope that I will be the person who sacrifices my life for someone I love, or perhaps for a stranger, who I would show love indifferently since I would be left with my conscience afterward. It can be a pleasing thought experiment when I am the hero, but what if I am not?
As the hostages are freed and the fire is extinguished, both resulting in no casualties, what we can surmise about our humanness is that it cannot be understood by science alone. We make sacrifices for others, expressing love on a collective basis, which cannot be entirely understood from a deconstructive, rational and analytical basis.
For now, we can refer to our conscience as a combination of matter and phenomenon — the Universe, God, our Creator, and Consciousness itself. However, in the near future, I hope that physics and metaphysics will converge and dovetail, granting us the wisdom to understand the complexities of our conscience and what makes us a moral species.
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