Oaths, not Tools

I have grown to dislike the term “tool” when it comes to digital and social institutions. It’s not that the word itself is bad, it’s that it implies something that I believe is mistaken. When someone refers to social media, or Large Language Models, or other tech-artifacts as “just a tool” what they are implying is that tools are, by nature, morally neutral. They have no weight apart from how they are used. Just like how you can use a screwdriver to fix a cabinet, build a house, and construct a weapon, so can you use any tool for good or evil.

The weakness with this metaphor is that it neglects to take into consideration telos, or purpose. Tools have intention and purpose built into them. Tools may be “neutral” in that they are not moral actors, but while a Nuclear Warhead is just a “tool,” I also don’t think I should own one. Torture devices are just “tools” but are built with specific, evil purposes. There are structural and intentional tendencies in tools, and if we forget this, we are likely to immediately succumb to those purposes.

I would rather think in terms of conversion.

Arthur was conceived by Uther and Ygraine out of wedlock, with the help of Merlin who transformed Uther into a kind of Incubus. It was an act of rape, later smoothed over with a too-soon marriage. In sin was Arthur conceived, and in sin did he live his young adulthood, sleeping around, slaughtering innocent children out of fear of a prophecy, living in violence.

Arthur is rapidly growing in power and ability. As he grows in this strength, he also grows in evil. And yet, despite this, Arthur became a noble king who established the court that produced the flower of Chivalry.

How did this happen?

Arthur limited himself, and Arthur repented of his evil

It’s interesting that this happens in that order. Arthur cannot see clearly enough to repent of his evil until he has limited himself. His first method of limitation is marriage. He is told, by Merlin and his lords, to choose one of his women to marry. He chooses Guinevere, and remains faithful to her until he dies. As a result, he ceases producing illegitimate heirs (one of whom ends up killing him!) and ceases his fornication.

Another limitation he places on himself is one he also places on all his knights: the Pentecostal Oath.

Once Arthur becomes king, after he and his knights demonstrate themselves to be immoral actors, he forces them to swear an oath:

“he king stablished all his knights, and them that were of lands not rich he gave them lands, and charged them never to do outrageousity nor murder, and always to flee treason; also, by no means to be cruel, but to give mercy unto him that asketh mercy, upon pain of forfeiture of their worship and lordship of King Arthur for evermore; and always to do ladies, damosels, and gentlewomen succour, upon pain of death. Also, that no man take no battles in a wrongful quarrel for no law, nor for no world’s goods. Unto this were all the knights sworn of the Table Round, both old and young. And every year were they sworn at the high feast of Pentecost.”

This oath is a powerful one, and while it seems easy to keep, for these knights it becomes increasingly more difficult as time goes on. How do you give succour to ladies and provide mercy to all who ask when a lady’s succor involves killing their captor? How do you always flee treason and also take no battles in a wrongful quarrel when your King is engaged in a wrongful quarrel? These questions and dueling moral values dominate the text of Le Morte d’Arthur and cause no end of torment for the knights of the Table Round. These knights undergo horrible trials and moral torments to upkeep their oath, to keep their word. Often their knightly oath seems to be ruining their lives and the lives of the people around them. But it also is the source of their discipline, the source of their Chivalry.

Oaths, both marriage and otherwise, are sources of strength for these knights. Why? Because it allows for society to exist. To break your oath is to break not just your word, but the idea of words and peace itself. To break an oath is to break Logos. Words matter to the highest possible degree, that is, what you say is what you will do. To go back on your word is to lie, to “break faith” with someone, to break the very bonds of human society. The ability to keep oaths is, at its core, the foundation of dignity, fellowship, and community.

Oaths are a mechanism by which the self is restrained and retrained into virtue. You swear against your own trouthe or truth in order to validate your promises. You are be-truth-ed through oaths, and thus the truth itself becomes the stake for your swearing.

Oaths imply that things can be better, but they also imply that things must be bound.

This is my vision for Electrate Ethics. We must limit ourselves, bind ourselves, and then convert. This is not just a tool, it is a system that has evil coded (literally) into it. We must work hard to exorcise the internet, but we must begin by binding our Trouthe.