In my last post about punching people, I touched on the Trolley Problem, and I'd like to ramble on about it a bit here.
The Trolley Problem basically asks you to choose between killing one person or killing more than one. Sometimes it's phrased as killing one person to stop from killing more than one. Sometimes it's choosing whether to kill one or more than one. Sometimes it's killing one to save more than one. The central takeaway usually is that you've got to kill one or many.
But you can put things slightly differently and say that you either kill many by inaction or kill one by action. You can take out the trolley and talk about a madman who tells you to shoot one person and he will spare the lives of twenty hostages or something like that. That puts the ball more in your court: you've got to do the killing, not simply decide which option to take.
And then there's the idea that one person is going to die anyway; the madman will kill all the hostages unless you pick one of them to be killed. So that one person is going to die regardless, but the blood wouldn't be as directly on your hands if you simply allow the hostages to be killed wholesale.
What it boils down to, however, is that you must choose between options, both of which are sub-optimal. Simply phrased, is one death preferable to more than one death?
If you're in an action-inaction scenario and you happen not to believe in sins of omission (to use the Catholic turn of phrase, here meaning, "an immoral act which happens because of inaction"), then you would probably choose the path where your actions alone couldn't be blamed for the result. You'd let the multiple people die because you yourself would be blameless. And that's... not moral, in my mind. Simply refusing to act so as not to be blamed is pretty much the worst thing you can do in this situation. You might decide not to act because you feel that the greater good is served, but that's a choice which should acknowledge that the result is still your fault.
And that's what I think a lot of people actually do in life. I include myself among those people. We refuse to act, not because of the greater good, but because we don't want to be blamed. That's immoral in the extreme, both because of the result and because we're behaving not only immorally but amorally, without consideration of the morality of the situation at all. We're not trying to justify our inaction; we're simply avoiding action for its own sake.
The Trolley Problem doesn't take into account any personal risk either. Many people, myself included again, do not act because it would entail risk. We're cowards. That's immoral too, although perhaps not amoral. It's selfish. And usually it's lazy, because most of the time self-preservation isn't motivated by the thought that it would be in the best interests of the world for us to escape risk.
So perhaps the most important lesson of the Trolley Problem, from a moral standpoint, is that it's important to actually make a damn choice. Whatever you choose, it is more morally defensible than simply abdicating your responsibilities and letting the dice fall where they may. In the Trolley Problem, that would be something along the lines of a runaway trolley which has an equal chance of killing one or a group of people unless we actually pick.
Sure, the thing which winds up serving the greater good might happen if we simply let chance dictate. And it's easy. We don't have to make a tough choice, shoulder moral responsibility, punch that Nazi even if it makes us a hypocrite and immoral. And there's no guarantee that our choice would be the right one, so maybe it's just better to let fate decide. But that's not the moral position.
Make a choice. Don't sit on the sidelines kibbitzing and offering suggestions. Make a choice, throw the switch, and yes, you may well make the wrong choice, and people may blame you, and things may not work out. But it's still important to choose.
Friday, February 17, 2017
Tuesday, February 14, 2017
On the Morality of Punching People
There's been a lot of talk lately about punching people with whom we don't agree. Nazis, mostly, although I'm sure people would also debate punching the Klan, bigots, or people who don't like Aerosmith.
I'm a pacifist. I have the privilege to hold this belief without a lot of testing. I'm as white as they come, I'm a cis man, I live in a country which hasn't yet started rounding up dissidents, and, while I'm pretty doggone poor, I'm not so poor that I can say I don't have privilege there either. So my moral resolve on pacifism is a bit like most people who claim they would die before they gave up their faith: it's a nice thought, but when the rubber meets the road, I bet a lot of us would give up our morals quickly enough. I say this about myself because I can; I assume this about others because of my pessimism about human nature.
So at the bottom, I don't believe you should punch anyone. Violence is immoral. I will not sully the names of those people who have held this view and have been tested and have passed with flying colors. I am not like them. They passed the test, as it were. It's very easy for me to say that I believe this. It's much harder to put it into practice.
I also find myself, at times, being less of a pacifist and more of a believer that one should not do undue harm. What I mean by this is that I don't believe killing anyone is ever justified, but maybe a slap, just a little pain, a rebuke, is morally acceptable. If no lasting harm is done, is it really wrong to give someone a zetz to knock some sense into them? I don't know. I waffle. This is why I'm pretty sure that, when the chips were down, I would not pass the test.
But there are people who take the moral stance that it's not about the violence, it's about the freedom of speech or expression. And while I believe that governments should protect freedom of speech, I don't believe that anyone has any expectation to the kind of freedom that people seem to think is enshrined in the Constitution. There are already plenty of restrictions imposed by the government on speech. And above all else, freedom of speech simply means, from the government's point of view, that the government can't restrict your speech. It says absolutely nothing about what non-governmental agents can do.
This is why, for instance, you can't sue a newspaper because they don't print everything you send them. You could argue that they're infringing your freedom of speech, but you don't have the freedom to force a private entity to allow you to speak. Newspapers are a bad example. Let's try Twitter. Twitter is a private platform. If Twitter wants to put a rule in place which says you can't use the letter Z in your messages, they have every right to do so, and you can't stop them. You simply either put up with the rules or you don't use the platform.
This isn't as simple as I'm making it sound: governments can and do restrict what restrictions private individuals and platforms place on their users/members. In the interest of equality, if the someone found out that Twitter wasn't allowing black people to be members of their site, or was placing burdens on them, that someone could sue, and it's possible that the courts would rule in their favor. It's tricky. There are laws which people claim infringe their freedoms which are upheld or struck down all the time.
But beyond that, is there a moral imperative to allow anyone to say anything? I would argue that no, there isn't. And unfortunately, much of the time, those arguing that people should be allowed to say things are not those who are directly affected by the things those people are saying. If I, a white, cis man were to argue that racists have a right to yell insults and death threats at people of color, I would be injecting myself into a situation which doesn't need me: while yes, the welfare of the world affects me, I am not being affected directly by this speech, and thus I should shut the fuck up. It's not brave, and my beliefs in free speech are not really being put to the test.
So, having explained my moral position, I would like to say conclusively that it's wrong to punch Nazis.
But.
But unless there's some pragmatic reason otherwise, you should probably do it anyway.
"How can you say that?! Hypocrite!"
Yes. Yes I am. I am, along with everyone on this little globe of ours. It isn't heroic to recognize it. I'm hypocritical.
I don't want to make it seem heroic to punch Nazis either. But consider the moral prohibition on lying. One should not lie. It's a pretty basic moral precept. And yet, if one were harboring Jews from Nazis, one should lie one's head off. One should lie and lie and lie and never stop lying in the service of protecting those Jews from Nazis.
And one should know that one is doing a morally wrong thing. A morally defensible, yet morally wrong thing. That's what's important.
Philosophers have been phrasing this question different ways for thousands of years. Most recently, it's the Trolley Problem: what are the ethics of choosing to, by action, take one life while saving five, or by inaction take five lives, saving one. You can wrestle with this problem, put it through various permutations, and try to justify it to yourself, but I think the thing which gets missed is that there is no morally "right" answer. Any option you choose, the result is that you will have committed an immoral act.
And that's freeing, in a way. Because if you're going to be wrong no matter what you do, you can look at it from a more pragmatic point of view, and depending on your axioms and your ethics, you can arrive at a solution. What you choose illustrates your axioms and ethics, and that's why the problem exists, not as some brain-teaser on how to be more or less moral.
Because you will be immoral, somehow, no matter what. Because we're all immoral.
So when I say you should punch a Nazi (actually, I think you should do something else other than punch unless you're a trained fighter because punching untrained is a very good way to injure yourself, and I speak from personal experience) I am not ducking the moral issue. I believe, as strongly as I can believe without being tested, that it is immoral to punch anyone, to harm anyone. Violence is immoral. But sometimes you have to accept that the immorality of your action is on you, but the greater good can still be served. You are not being heroic. You are doing what must be done. And if punching a Nazi must be done, then you must shoulder the burden of immorality and punch them.
I say this to people who believe that Nazis must be punched. The people who are directly affected by them. But they don't need my approval. They need my support. And that's a responsibility of those who believe, as I do, that violence is immoral. If we cannot punch a Nazi, we must do something else to help stop them. It's not enough to sit here and say, "It's wrong to punch Nazis. Everyone should have freedom of speech." If you believe that, then you must fight for the freedom of speech of those who are being oppressed. Nazis aren't being oppressed. If you believe that violence is never justified, then you must help those who are attacked. You must. You cannot talk about morals sometimes. Either work for morals all the time, or not at all.
This does not cover all objections to Nazi-punching. I'm not pretending that it does. There are purely pragmatic objections which I cannot address because frankly I don't know the answers. I've heard smart people on both sides, and I think that it's an argument worth having as long as it doesn't distract from the vital work of preventing Nazis from punching others, hurting others, killing others. There are people who are strong in their beliefs that violence is never the answer, people who have been tested. They are braver than I could ever be, and they are probably not wasting their time writing things like this, but rather are out there doing what they believe.
All I can say is that sometimes one must behave immorally for the greater good. Yes, this is a slippery slope, and yes, it is entirely subjective, so there's really no point in trying to argue that others have believed just that and have done horrible things. We're all human. We're all hypocrites. And we're all immoral. It is important to acknowledge the immorality of our actions, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't take those actions.
Lastly, if you believe that violence is morally indefensible but that Nazis shouldn't be allowed to speak, may I suggest singing? It's worked in the past. It's hard to say much of anything when you're being drowned out by singing. Aerosmith I can take or leave, but if that's what floats your boat, by all means, stand up to a Nazi today and sing Love in an Elevator at the top of your lungs.
I'm a pacifist. I have the privilege to hold this belief without a lot of testing. I'm as white as they come, I'm a cis man, I live in a country which hasn't yet started rounding up dissidents, and, while I'm pretty doggone poor, I'm not so poor that I can say I don't have privilege there either. So my moral resolve on pacifism is a bit like most people who claim they would die before they gave up their faith: it's a nice thought, but when the rubber meets the road, I bet a lot of us would give up our morals quickly enough. I say this about myself because I can; I assume this about others because of my pessimism about human nature.
So at the bottom, I don't believe you should punch anyone. Violence is immoral. I will not sully the names of those people who have held this view and have been tested and have passed with flying colors. I am not like them. They passed the test, as it were. It's very easy for me to say that I believe this. It's much harder to put it into practice.
I also find myself, at times, being less of a pacifist and more of a believer that one should not do undue harm. What I mean by this is that I don't believe killing anyone is ever justified, but maybe a slap, just a little pain, a rebuke, is morally acceptable. If no lasting harm is done, is it really wrong to give someone a zetz to knock some sense into them? I don't know. I waffle. This is why I'm pretty sure that, when the chips were down, I would not pass the test.
But there are people who take the moral stance that it's not about the violence, it's about the freedom of speech or expression. And while I believe that governments should protect freedom of speech, I don't believe that anyone has any expectation to the kind of freedom that people seem to think is enshrined in the Constitution. There are already plenty of restrictions imposed by the government on speech. And above all else, freedom of speech simply means, from the government's point of view, that the government can't restrict your speech. It says absolutely nothing about what non-governmental agents can do.
This is why, for instance, you can't sue a newspaper because they don't print everything you send them. You could argue that they're infringing your freedom of speech, but you don't have the freedom to force a private entity to allow you to speak. Newspapers are a bad example. Let's try Twitter. Twitter is a private platform. If Twitter wants to put a rule in place which says you can't use the letter Z in your messages, they have every right to do so, and you can't stop them. You simply either put up with the rules or you don't use the platform.
This isn't as simple as I'm making it sound: governments can and do restrict what restrictions private individuals and platforms place on their users/members. In the interest of equality, if the someone found out that Twitter wasn't allowing black people to be members of their site, or was placing burdens on them, that someone could sue, and it's possible that the courts would rule in their favor. It's tricky. There are laws which people claim infringe their freedoms which are upheld or struck down all the time.
But beyond that, is there a moral imperative to allow anyone to say anything? I would argue that no, there isn't. And unfortunately, much of the time, those arguing that people should be allowed to say things are not those who are directly affected by the things those people are saying. If I, a white, cis man were to argue that racists have a right to yell insults and death threats at people of color, I would be injecting myself into a situation which doesn't need me: while yes, the welfare of the world affects me, I am not being affected directly by this speech, and thus I should shut the fuck up. It's not brave, and my beliefs in free speech are not really being put to the test.
So, having explained my moral position, I would like to say conclusively that it's wrong to punch Nazis.
But.
But unless there's some pragmatic reason otherwise, you should probably do it anyway.
"How can you say that?! Hypocrite!"
Yes. Yes I am. I am, along with everyone on this little globe of ours. It isn't heroic to recognize it. I'm hypocritical.
I don't want to make it seem heroic to punch Nazis either. But consider the moral prohibition on lying. One should not lie. It's a pretty basic moral precept. And yet, if one were harboring Jews from Nazis, one should lie one's head off. One should lie and lie and lie and never stop lying in the service of protecting those Jews from Nazis.
And one should know that one is doing a morally wrong thing. A morally defensible, yet morally wrong thing. That's what's important.
Philosophers have been phrasing this question different ways for thousands of years. Most recently, it's the Trolley Problem: what are the ethics of choosing to, by action, take one life while saving five, or by inaction take five lives, saving one. You can wrestle with this problem, put it through various permutations, and try to justify it to yourself, but I think the thing which gets missed is that there is no morally "right" answer. Any option you choose, the result is that you will have committed an immoral act.
And that's freeing, in a way. Because if you're going to be wrong no matter what you do, you can look at it from a more pragmatic point of view, and depending on your axioms and your ethics, you can arrive at a solution. What you choose illustrates your axioms and ethics, and that's why the problem exists, not as some brain-teaser on how to be more or less moral.
Because you will be immoral, somehow, no matter what. Because we're all immoral.
So when I say you should punch a Nazi (actually, I think you should do something else other than punch unless you're a trained fighter because punching untrained is a very good way to injure yourself, and I speak from personal experience) I am not ducking the moral issue. I believe, as strongly as I can believe without being tested, that it is immoral to punch anyone, to harm anyone. Violence is immoral. But sometimes you have to accept that the immorality of your action is on you, but the greater good can still be served. You are not being heroic. You are doing what must be done. And if punching a Nazi must be done, then you must shoulder the burden of immorality and punch them.
I say this to people who believe that Nazis must be punched. The people who are directly affected by them. But they don't need my approval. They need my support. And that's a responsibility of those who believe, as I do, that violence is immoral. If we cannot punch a Nazi, we must do something else to help stop them. It's not enough to sit here and say, "It's wrong to punch Nazis. Everyone should have freedom of speech." If you believe that, then you must fight for the freedom of speech of those who are being oppressed. Nazis aren't being oppressed. If you believe that violence is never justified, then you must help those who are attacked. You must. You cannot talk about morals sometimes. Either work for morals all the time, or not at all.
This does not cover all objections to Nazi-punching. I'm not pretending that it does. There are purely pragmatic objections which I cannot address because frankly I don't know the answers. I've heard smart people on both sides, and I think that it's an argument worth having as long as it doesn't distract from the vital work of preventing Nazis from punching others, hurting others, killing others. There are people who are strong in their beliefs that violence is never the answer, people who have been tested. They are braver than I could ever be, and they are probably not wasting their time writing things like this, but rather are out there doing what they believe.
All I can say is that sometimes one must behave immorally for the greater good. Yes, this is a slippery slope, and yes, it is entirely subjective, so there's really no point in trying to argue that others have believed just that and have done horrible things. We're all human. We're all hypocrites. And we're all immoral. It is important to acknowledge the immorality of our actions, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't take those actions.
Lastly, if you believe that violence is morally indefensible but that Nazis shouldn't be allowed to speak, may I suggest singing? It's worked in the past. It's hard to say much of anything when you're being drowned out by singing. Aerosmith I can take or leave, but if that's what floats your boat, by all means, stand up to a Nazi today and sing Love in an Elevator at the top of your lungs.
Monday, February 13, 2017
Holy Moly: Side Characters
Topics:
Holy Moly
In Genesis 14 we begin with a story which sounds way, way more interesting than Abram's fruitfulness and multiplicity.
We've got place names and characters I can't pronounce (I could take a stab at it but fortunately I don't have to, this being a textual medium). We've got rebellions and kings and infighting. We've got armies being swallowed up by tar.
But there's no escaping the fact that this is the Bible, not the Silmarillion, so the only reason all of this is important is that Lot, who is living in Sodom, gets captured when the victorious kings sack the city. We don't hear about pitched battles or strategy. This is the Bible, and Abram and Lot are the important part.
Did any of this actually happen? No idea. The Bible as historical record is... well, we're still in Genesis, and Genesis is as old as dirt. We're only a few scant chapters away from a great flood which wiped out everyone on earth. We've covered a lot of ground, what with generations of men who were considered young at 300. But still, we're in myths and legends territory here.
And beyond that, I have no reason to doubt that all these places and kings had some deep meaning to people in late Stone Age/early Bronze Age Mesopotamia. It's likely that, as they sat around the fire, proto-Jews would have heard this story and thought, "Oh boy, King Chedorlaomer, he's the king who defeated fifteen dragons in the story we heard last night. You do not want to fuck with him. Just more stupidity on the part of those idiots in Sodom, huh?" But they didn't bother to write down the story of King Chedorlaomer, so he makes this brief appearance in the Bible and then is gone again. Maybe his story wasn't popular. Maybe it didn't have a good lesson, just plenty of gratuitous sex and senseless violence. Maybe King Chedorlaomer would have been played by Bruce Willis.
It's useless to speculate.
It's not fair to say that Abram and Lot are minor characters in this story: they're just not in the epic battle. Abram mounts a daring rescue and manages, with a small strike force, to see off Lot's captors and bring him, his people, and the loot back to Sodom.
And here we meet King Melchizedek. King Melchizedek has a terrific name, and if he showed up in a fantasy movie fighting dragons I would not be in the least surprised. He's the high priest of what I'm somewhat reliably informed is a deity of some sort, although possibly not the same deity worshiped by Abram.
It's important to note here (and elsewhere, but we'll get there) that Abram might have worshiped the god who winds up being the head honcho in the Bible, but he believed in other gods. These proto-Hebrews were polytheistic. This is prior to the Ten Commandments (and even then, monotheism only meant worshiping one god before others, not only believing in one god, but we'll get there when we get there). So Abram, being a pragmatic man, gives a tithe of 10% to Melchizedek, who then goes back into the background (or possibly Melchizedek gives a tithe to Abram; the text is ambiguous, but it makes more sense to me that Abram is tithing to the priest-king rather than the other way around, rescuing hero or not). We'll run into Melchizedek's name again, way after we've all forgotten who he is.
The King of Sodom offers Abram the loot as a reward, but Abram says, "No, sorry: god says I shouldn't take anything from you so you can't take credit for me being awesome." I have to imagine that this the King of Sodom had somewhat mixed feelings about this response. On the one hand, Abram's refusing a reward, so Sodom gets the loot back. Sodom has just lost its army and its city has been sacked, so I imagine that the king is happy enough to have a little loot. But on the other hand, Abram is being a dick. He's refusing a kingly gift and saying, "Um, sorry, no, I don't need your shit; I'm awesome."
Abram does make sure that his followers are rewarded, so it's possible that this should be read as humbleness and care, and maybe that's how it was received. Still, if I were king and I just offered you loot, to decline would be a bit rude, but to decline because you say god told you not to owe me any favors... that's got to make me wonder just why you don't want to owe me any favors.
Abram talks about the god who told him this using the same name as the god for whom Melchizedek is priest, so maybe this should be read differently. Maybe Melchizedek passed on a message from his god in exchange for the tithe, and El Elyon said for Abram not to take the reward. Maybe El Elyon is the Hebrew God, and it's all very confusing. This latter possibility is certainly borne out later when later writers use Melchizedek as the ancestor of Hebrew priests. Still, since Melchizedek doesn't seem to have any purpose in this story beyond being name-dropped (he clearly had other stories about him which didn't make it into the Bible) I think believing that maybe he had something to do with Abram's refusal is justified, if not certified.
In any case, this should probably all be read as, "Abram is special. Abram is awesome. You are descendants of Abram. Therefore, you are special and awesome." Just so. There's nothing wrong with this. All tribes and groups tell founding stories about how special they are. No need to fret: God and the Bible will continue to reinforce this message.
While Amraphel was king of Shinar, Ellasar’s King Arioch, Elam’s King Chedorlaomer, and Goiim’s King Tidal declared war on Sodom’s King Bera, Gomorrah’s King Birsha, Admah’s King Shinab, Zeboiim’s King Shemeber, and the king of Bela, that is, Zoar. These latter kings formed an alliance in the Siddim Valley (that is, the Dead Sea). For twelve years they had served Chedorlaomer, and in the thirteenth year they revolted. In the fourteenth year, Chedorlaomer and the kings of his alliance came and attacked the Rephaim in Ashteroth-karnaim, the Zuzim in Ham, the Emim in Shaveh-kiriathaim, and the Horites in the mountains of Seir as far as El-paran near the desert. Then they turned back, came to En-mishpat (that is, Kadesh), and attacked the territory of the Amalekites, as well as the Amorites who lived in Hazazon-tamar.I have no idea who any of these people are. I'm not an early near-eastern historian. But boy, doesn't this sound like something straight out of Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings?
Then the kings of Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah, Zeboiim, and Bera (that is, Zoar) took up battle positions in the Siddim Valley against King Chedorlaomer of Elam, King Tidal of Goiim, King Amraphel of Shinar, and King Arioch of Ellasar, four kings against five.
Now the Siddim Valley was filled with tar pits. When the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah retreated, they fell into them; and the rest fled to the mountains.
We've got place names and characters I can't pronounce (I could take a stab at it but fortunately I don't have to, this being a textual medium). We've got rebellions and kings and infighting. We've got armies being swallowed up by tar.
But there's no escaping the fact that this is the Bible, not the Silmarillion, so the only reason all of this is important is that Lot, who is living in Sodom, gets captured when the victorious kings sack the city. We don't hear about pitched battles or strategy. This is the Bible, and Abram and Lot are the important part.
Did any of this actually happen? No idea. The Bible as historical record is... well, we're still in Genesis, and Genesis is as old as dirt. We're only a few scant chapters away from a great flood which wiped out everyone on earth. We've covered a lot of ground, what with generations of men who were considered young at 300. But still, we're in myths and legends territory here.
And beyond that, I have no reason to doubt that all these places and kings had some deep meaning to people in late Stone Age/early Bronze Age Mesopotamia. It's likely that, as they sat around the fire, proto-Jews would have heard this story and thought, "Oh boy, King Chedorlaomer, he's the king who defeated fifteen dragons in the story we heard last night. You do not want to fuck with him. Just more stupidity on the part of those idiots in Sodom, huh?" But they didn't bother to write down the story of King Chedorlaomer, so he makes this brief appearance in the Bible and then is gone again. Maybe his story wasn't popular. Maybe it didn't have a good lesson, just plenty of gratuitous sex and senseless violence. Maybe King Chedorlaomer would have been played by Bruce Willis.
It's useless to speculate.
It's not fair to say that Abram and Lot are minor characters in this story: they're just not in the epic battle. Abram mounts a daring rescue and manages, with a small strike force, to see off Lot's captors and bring him, his people, and the loot back to Sodom.
And here we meet King Melchizedek. King Melchizedek has a terrific name, and if he showed up in a fantasy movie fighting dragons I would not be in the least surprised. He's the high priest of what I'm somewhat reliably informed is a deity of some sort, although possibly not the same deity worshiped by Abram.
It's important to note here (and elsewhere, but we'll get there) that Abram might have worshiped the god who winds up being the head honcho in the Bible, but he believed in other gods. These proto-Hebrews were polytheistic. This is prior to the Ten Commandments (and even then, monotheism only meant worshiping one god before others, not only believing in one god, but we'll get there when we get there). So Abram, being a pragmatic man, gives a tithe of 10% to Melchizedek, who then goes back into the background (or possibly Melchizedek gives a tithe to Abram; the text is ambiguous, but it makes more sense to me that Abram is tithing to the priest-king rather than the other way around, rescuing hero or not). We'll run into Melchizedek's name again, way after we've all forgotten who he is.
The King of Sodom offers Abram the loot as a reward, but Abram says, "No, sorry: god says I shouldn't take anything from you so you can't take credit for me being awesome." I have to imagine that this the King of Sodom had somewhat mixed feelings about this response. On the one hand, Abram's refusing a reward, so Sodom gets the loot back. Sodom has just lost its army and its city has been sacked, so I imagine that the king is happy enough to have a little loot. But on the other hand, Abram is being a dick. He's refusing a kingly gift and saying, "Um, sorry, no, I don't need your shit; I'm awesome."
Abram does make sure that his followers are rewarded, so it's possible that this should be read as humbleness and care, and maybe that's how it was received. Still, if I were king and I just offered you loot, to decline would be a bit rude, but to decline because you say god told you not to owe me any favors... that's got to make me wonder just why you don't want to owe me any favors.
Abram talks about the god who told him this using the same name as the god for whom Melchizedek is priest, so maybe this should be read differently. Maybe Melchizedek passed on a message from his god in exchange for the tithe, and El Elyon said for Abram not to take the reward. Maybe El Elyon is the Hebrew God, and it's all very confusing. This latter possibility is certainly borne out later when later writers use Melchizedek as the ancestor of Hebrew priests. Still, since Melchizedek doesn't seem to have any purpose in this story beyond being name-dropped (he clearly had other stories about him which didn't make it into the Bible) I think believing that maybe he had something to do with Abram's refusal is justified, if not certified.
In any case, this should probably all be read as, "Abram is special. Abram is awesome. You are descendants of Abram. Therefore, you are special and awesome." Just so. There's nothing wrong with this. All tribes and groups tell founding stories about how special they are. No need to fret: God and the Bible will continue to reinforce this message.
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