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Niceness and the Limits of RulesJoan F. GoodmanPublished online: 03 Aug 2010.

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Journal of Moral Education, Vol. 30, No. 4, 2001

Niceness and the Limits of RulesJOAN F. GOODMANUniversity of Pennsylvania, USA

ABSTRACT Teachers (and parents), responsible for the acculturation of young children, havean investment in “niceness”. While the moral worthiness of this norm is obvious, niceness whenenshrined as a set of rules is questionable. Because we want children to be honest, strong-mindedand bold, to resist peer pressure and speak out against wrongdoing, protection against hurt mustsometimes give way to other priorities. Through the presentation of two early childhoodscenarios—a small child asks questions of strangers that insult them; a somewhat older onerejects the overture of a child who wants to join his play—I explore the downside of tactfulnessand the dif� culties of determining who is injured by bluntness. The argument proceeds that inorder to balance both the interests of the parties and the different values at stake—fairness aswell as niceness—we need to contextualise our judgements by avoiding general rules. Finally, Isuggest several benchmarks that should be incorporated into this contextualised decision-mak-ing—the act itself, its consequences and the motives and personal history of the players.

To establish a caring, considerate, fair-minded and orderly social environment inwhich children can learn, teachers regularly construct a set of classroom norms andrules. The rules can take the form of virtues (be considerate, be responsible) orbehaviours (no hitting, raise your hand to speak). Many of the rules are summed upby what young children call “being nice”. Nice means helping, sharing, taking turnsand not being mean. Mean is � ghting, bullying, hurting and rejecting others. Theemphasis is on extending children’s empathy and kindness while limiting aggressionand antisocial behaviour (see, for example, Gestwicki, 1999). This orientation isfamously crystallised in Virginia Paley’s appealing title, You Can’t Say You Can’tPlay (1992). The children get the message. When Paley (1995) invited kindergartenchildren to suggest class rules, they called out: “[N]o � ghting, no pushing orgrabbing, you can’t be nasty, don’t be mean.” Their suggestions for positivebehaviours: “be nice”; “ask people to play”; “be polite”; “say can you help people”(p. 68). The successful, well-researched Child Development Programme urgesschools to create a “caring community of learners” by establishing “supportiverelationships—not competitive, punitive, judgmental, or exclusionary ones” (Schapset al., 1997, p. 128). In that spirit, when my graduate students ask their youngstudents, “What does ‘friend’ mean,?” frequent responses include, “someone who isalways nice”; “someone who doesn’t say mean things to you”. No one, unsurpris-ingly, responds, “a friend is someone who tells you the truth, even if it is mean, evenif it hurts”. With older children friendship continues to be perceived as niceness and

ISSN 0305-7240 print; ISSN 1465-3877 online/01/040349-12Ó 2001 Journal of Moral Education LtdDOI: 10.1080/03057240120094841

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350 J. F. Goodman

niceness as an elaboration of these earlier characteristics—generosity, helpfulness,concern, understanding (Youniss, 1980); not, niceness as speaking the hurtful truth.

The moral premise supporting such norms and rules is that all children, equally,deserve to � ourish at school, that one child should not � ourish at the expense ofanother, and that � ourishing is compromised when children’s feelings are hurt. It isthis exclusive code of being nice and its instantiation in behavioural rules that I wishto challenge.

Socialisation into Niceness

Socialisation into niceness starts early. Consider the following event: a preschooler(we will call him Blunt) innocently asks an adult, “why do you have such foldedskin?” Of another he asks, “why are you so fat?” And to a third he preaches, “youshould stop smoking, otherwise you’ll get cancer”. The recipients of these remarks,clearly put off, scowl critically and move away. The embarrassed parent explains toBlunt that people are hurt by references to age, weight and smoking. Because it isobvious to her that Blunt should not make offensive remarks, she cautions him,“don’t say such things, they hurt people”.

Most adults, I suspect, would be sympathetic to the caretaker. It seemsobviously wrong to hurt someone’s feelings when there’s so little at stake. The adultrightfully cautioned the child to inhibit such remarks and it worked; over time hebecame more sensitive. Few, I suspect, would defend the child’s initial truthful-ness—he was not after all forced by anyone to lie, merely to hold his tongue—norwould they attribute fault to the offended victims.

The socialisation into niceness continues at school. Consider the followingordinary kindergarten scenario. Blunt and three classmates are using blocks toconstruct a model city. When a fourth child asks to join, Blunt comments angrily,“we don’t want you to play with us, we don’t like you, you always tell us what to do,you mess-up our buildings, and then you say you didn’t”. The excluded child(Rejected) pouts and complains to the teacher. She talks with the boys aboutcollaborative play, encourages a discussion between them but, when Blunt remainsadamant in his refusal—“I don’t want him to play with us”—she reminds him,“remember our rule, you can’t say you can’t play”. The teacher has no doubt abouther decision; it is her task to help children develop prosocial skills and to accept oneanother. Although she may have to protect Blunt and his playmates by monitoringthe activities, unless there is violence, Rejected must not be excluded [1]. Avoidingthat hurt vastly outweighs any complaints of Blunt, even assuming their legitimacy.

Although it goes without saying that we want our children to be caring,considerate, tactful and understanding of others, we also want them to be honest,strong-minded and bold. We want them to resist peer pressure as well as to makecompromises, to speak out against wrongdoing as well as to keep silent, to refuse togo along even at the cost of offending others [2]. These two sets of educationalobjectives, however, are in tension. The caring child, not wanting to offend, will bewatchful that his speech is kind, that his actions are obliging. The honourable child,standing by the truth, will risk hurting, even alienating, another child (or adult). He

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Niceness and the Limits of Rules 351

will come to know of goods, other than acceptance, that demand loyalty. He willunderstand, as Ralph Waldo Emerson observed a century and a half ago, that “truthis greater than the affectation of love. Your goodness must have some edge toit—else it is none” (1940, p. 149).

For children to acquire traits in both columns they sometimes must be sup-ported for being “not nice”, even on occasion for expressing anger and offending achild rather than accepting him. If children are to become both tactful and assertive,considerate and resistant, tolerant and principled, simple judgements and rulesbased on simple codes of justice—“you can’t hurt people’s feelings”; “you can’t sayyou can’t play”—are inadequate. We need more complex logarithms that accountfor the possible culpability of the offended (as well as the offender) and place theparticular event in a larger contextual frame.

The Downside of Tact

Let us revisit the scenarios and consider further the inhibition of candidness in theservice of niceness. In the � rst incident, at a time when the child is being schooledin veracity (when, for example, an adult’s � rst intervention to resolve a con� ict isoften to extract a valid account), the child is also being schooled in the limits ofcandidness. These limits are extremely blurred, and subject to misinterpretation bythe child.

Putting aside the propriety of talking to strangers, the caretaker of thepreschooler presumably would not object to a child asking an adult, “why do youlaugh?”; “why is your hair long?”; “why are you so tall?”; but might very well objectto the questions, “why do you frown?”; “why don’t you have hair on your head?”;“why are you so short?” Because the criteria are subjective and deeply cultural,separating the parameters of the condoned from the prohibited is a tall order for ayoung child; indeed it is a tall order for adults. The child is supposed to learn notto violate social norms, vague and changing though they are. He must come tounderstand that we value smiling over frowning, hair over baldness, tallness overshortness. But what about borderline questions such as, “why are your teeth sobig?”; “why is your hair so curly?”; “why are you bigger than my Dad?” Is the childto take a chance on the acceptability of these questions, or should he be cautious andavoid them, given the uncertainty of how they will be received? Where the childdraws the line is less critical than the message he gets: there are lots of lines and thewrongfulness of an offending remark outweighs the rightness of an honest query.

Unclear about the boundaries of offensiveness, Blunt is likely to overgeneralisethe prohibition on candidness. Young children are naturally confused by categoryboundaries; the tendency towards overgeneralisation (as well as undue speci� city) ispredictable even in easier circumstances where objective visible cues should helpwith the discrimination (e.g. all animals may be perceived as doggies. For anexplanation of this phenomenon see Heinz Werner, 1948). In the insult situation thechild has no objective visible physical-world criterion to separate the accepted fromthe prohibited, only an injunction to refrain from commenting on that which othersmay interpret as insulting and hurtful. Given this daunting discrimination task, it is

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352 J. F. Goodman

probable that Blunt will opt increasingly for silence. From silence to deception is ashort step, for it will not long be lost on a child that people are a lot more grati� edby � attery than by non-offensiveness. Thus, in cautioning children to be nice wemay, inadvertently, lay the groundwork for white lies—the child moves from “whydo you have folded skin?” to “you look nice”. Given the natural desire to be liked,sensitivity to feelings of others can become excessive. Over time, to keep a friend,Blunt will be tempted to break a con� dence; to win approval he will deny aconviction. The more he leans towards people-pleasing, the more he leans againstpersonal authenticity.

A ban on offensiveness also eliminates any opportunity to consider the circum-stances under which a blunt question, regardless of hurt feelings, is (and is not)justi� ed. For example, supposing a child said to an adult (or another child), “whydid you throw the bottle on the street?” or “how come you didn’t pay for the videobefore you took it from the store?” and the respondent, obviously angered andoffended, stalked off indignantly. Disregarding possible concern about retaliation,would we not be pleased that the child noticed the wrongdoing and cared suf� cientlyto be bothered by it? In such instances the true “victim” is not the insulted aggrievedwrongdoer but the protesting child.

The offensiveness prohibition exacts opportunity costs for each Insulted as well.They, listening non-defensively to the innocent and well-intentioned child, mightactually do a reality check. Did the child notice something previously ignored orrepressed—ageing, obesity, health risks? Short of such an insight, taking in thechild’s casual queries could conceivably promote a healthy desensitisation in theadults. Perhaps a pervasive silence and exaggerated tactfulness accentuate ratherthan diminish embarrassment and self-loathing. Admittedly, this argument is astretch. To emancipate oneself from cultural norms is a tall order. Most of us willfall short, stuck in self-conscious embarrassment about the norms—ageing, obesityand unhealthy habits—we breech. And even if we as adults may wish to emancipateourselves from these norms, a child should come to recognise the reality of people’ssensitivity. On the other hand, norms do evolve and it is just possible that whencharacteristics are exposed, turned into matters of everyday observation and ac-knowledgment, the sting is gradually neutralised—a variant of coming out of thecloset.

Similarly, tactfulness has negative repercussions in the preschool play scenario.The teacher informs Blunt that although she is sympathetic to his travails they areinsuf� cient justi� cation for excluding Rejected. Blunt learns, as such experiencesaccumulate, that while the teacher will listen to his protests sympathetically she willnever concede to his request; not a very empowering message. Who would blow awhistle with no possibility of a good outcome? Again, over time, Blunt growsreinforced in the conviction that there is no point in expressing himself, he will haveto follow the “be nice” rule anyway. So he keeps quiet about wrongdoing even inthose situations where the teacher would very much like him to speak up—when, forinstance, the work she has assigned is too dif� cult, when he has an idea for resolvinga classroom problem. With his tendency to overgeneralise and his confusion as to

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Niceness and the Limits of Rules 353

the boundary between acceptable and non-acceptable comments, between welcomeand unwelcome interference, open speech is too risky; he becomes excessively silent.

Again there are opportunity costs for the offended party. Applying a rule ofinclusion deprives Rejected of the chance to understand why bullying and lying aregenerally intolerable, to reconsider his actions, to � nd more accepting playmates,and to grow a thicker skin over exclusion. Friendships are by nature exclusionary;like adults, children “do not have to be liked or accepted by all their peers all thetime” (Katz & McClellan, 1997, p. 75). However, without experiencing the pain ofrejection, there is little inducement to re� ect and grow. This is simply the disciplineof natural consequences advocated by Jean Jacques Rousseau in the 18th century(1964).

Assigning Blame

A problem with simple do not-offend type rules are their one-sidedness. Theyassume an oppressor and victim, with the victim sole proprietor of the hurt. In fact,often both are at fault. In the � rst speech episode, Blunt is blamed when his remarksstepped on someone’s toe; the victims had no responsibility to develop calluses. Yet,the child’s statements were honest, he meant no harm. It was the victims’ interpreta-tions that caused the harm. Had the victims shrugged off the remarks, chosen not tobe insulted, then the child would have done no wrong, that is not hurt anyone. Onceagain we can hardly expect—although we might wish—that instead of feelingexposed each Insulted had passed off comments about ageing, obesity and badhabits. It is also true that Blunt must learn at some point to appreciate the effects ofhis remarks; there is, admittedly, a danger from under- as well as over-socialising achild. None the less, the embarrassed mother might have recognised that Blunt, apreschooler, had no way of knowing the consequences of his questions and thereforedid not deserve to be blamed or shamed.

The play situation is again similar. The hurt in� icted by Blunt triggeredRejected’s right of inclusion. Yet, here too, it is a mistake to see the situation asoppressor and injured. Blunt presumably was not out to “get” Rejected, he was notmalevolent, he was merely protecting his play interests against probable destruction.At least in part it was the victim’s interpretation that caused the hurt. As previouslysuggested, Rejected might have acknowledged, particularly with the help of ateacher’s counselling, that maybe his behaviours were in fact objectionable, orshrugged off the exclusion and found something else to do. Here, too, Blunt is aninjured party: all he wants is an undisturbed play opportunity secure against apredictable threat. Although in both scenarios Blunt should assume some of theresponsibility so, too, should the insulted adults and rejected child; Blunt’s hurt maybe at least equal to that which he has in� icted. Blaming one party only, or evenmostly, erodes the other’s responsibility and culpability. “If the ‘victim’ has no fault,neither has he or she any control over or responsibility for remedial action…. Thesufferer is seen as possessing no resources and capabilities of his or her own thatcould ameliorate present conditions and future prospects” (Shweder, et al., 1997, p.162).

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354 J. F. Goodman

But let us change the facts slightly. Suppose in the � rst incident the adult withfolded skin is not old but abandoned and lives without adequate shelter or clothing;suppose the fat man is taking massive amounts of cortisone for unendurable pain;suppose the smoker is using prescribed marijuana to alleviate a medical condition.Then one would be less judging of the victims and more concerned that Bluntacquire sensitivity to their conditions. Our sympathy for Blunt would collapseentirely if he himself knew that the Insulteds were suffering and he was deliberatelytaunting them. Similarly, in the kindergarten play incident, suppose Rejected isunintentionally destructive because he is clumsy or unaware. Suppose he does notunderstand exactly what it is to lie (as young children often do not), nor why wefrown on lying. Given such conditions, our sympathies for Rejected would beincreased and those for Blunt decreased. And our sympathy for Blunt would bediluted even further if he excluded Rejected to avoid any competition from him forfriendships. Rather than applying a do not-insult-others rule, the parent needs moreinformation: What does her child understand and intend? What is the situation ofthose he approaches? Before applying a do not-exclude-others rule, the teacher alsoneeds more information: does Blunt have a pattern of rejecting overtures fromchildren or is his behaviour particular to Rejected? Does Rejected have a pattern ofdisturbing other children? Is the overture by Rejected a sign of social progress in achild generally cowed or is he the bully Blunt describes? Again we react differentiallydepending on these facts.

A teacher less committed to invoking situation-independent rules—do notinsult or exclude—might withhold directives. In the insult scenario, she might ignoreher child’s queries (about age, weight, and health), or alternatively say to Blunt, “doyou know why the grown-up looked angry when you asked about her folded skin?”In making such a statement the parent is attempting to clue the child into the culturewithout condemning or prohibiting his speech. The child, assuming he did not feelcriticised, could then follow-up with questions about why one is not suppose tomake observations about people’s appearances. In the rejection scenario, she mightsay to Blunt and Rejected, “I understand that you, Rejected, very much want to playwith Blunt and I also understand that you, Blunt, have reasons for saying no”. Thatoverture could open a non-judgemental productive discussion if, but only if, theteacher was not already committed to Rejected’s non-contingent right of inclusion.This open approach presupposes a recognition that general principles such asfairness and equity do not always dictate the same behavioural rules in factuallyclouded and complex encounters.

Doubtlessly many readers will be unconvinced that rules which generally servethe interests of most children should be abandoned or tailored signi� cantly to � t the(dubious?) merits of individual situations. It is not possible for adults to factor intotheir judgements so many contextual variables. A rule such as do not excludegenerally protects the weak: it avoids the likelihood that patterns of exclusion willproduce patterns of withdrawal or anger and aggression in the rejected child; itdiminishes the likelihood of some children becoming permanent bosses, othersbecome permanent outcasts; it provides the opportunity for broader more inclusivefriendships. Despite behind-the-scenes explanations that might exculpate Blunt,

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Niceness and the Limits of Rules 355

what one observes is unacceptable behaviour that should be extinguished. Simplyput, Blunt hurt others: in the � rst instance by violating a norm, in the second byrejecting a child. Intentional or not both were wrong.

Although there is merit in these points, they rely on two fundamental assump-tions: that a rule will be in� uential beyond the instance of its imposition and thatavoiding hurt is a pre-emptive value, even when the perpetrator has a justi� ablemoral position. Putting aside the � rst issue—whether and to what extent a rule andits underlying message become internalised—let us further consider this question:what makes it “obvious” that the damage to children from in� iction of psychic pain(for example rejection) merits a prohibition given the downside of rules?

Avoiding Hurt and Anger

If one believes that any induced suffering is ipso facto immoral, then obviously nocountervailing arguments can prevail. The question addressed here, however, goesnot to in� icting serious hurt (as in physical violence), where the wrongness isobvious, but to mild and occasional anger and hurt which, I argue, may not only beinconsequential but positively good.

Before reaching the moral issue, it needs to be recognised that getting mad andfeeling sad are primal emotions, natural to our constitutions and deeply-rooted inthem (Izard, 1977, 1991). Probably they are embedded in our natures because theyare adaptive. Both mobilise our energies and provide a surge to action. Although notmoral in themselves, anger and sadness support morality (and immorality). When achild confronts wrongdoing, the anger provoked abets self-assertion and resistancerather than acquiescence. Anger is critical to a growing autonomy. Even in the child,“a little controlled anger can provide the psychological strength (self-con� dence)one needs to speak up for one’s self” (Izard, 1977, p. 334). Sadness too ismotivational. Because it is unpleasant we try to eliminate its source by seekingcomfort, attempting to undo the upsetting event (recapturing that which was takenfrom us), or re-establishing a disrupted relationship (apologising, providing resti-tution, showing generosity). The attempt to suppress the emotions puts at risk a hostof potentially constructive actions that emanate from them.

The more clearly moral point is that beyond being individually enhancing, madand sad are essential to the development of interpersonal sensitivity, social obliga-tions and a sense of fairness. It is through our con� icts with other people and theirresistance to us that we come to appreciate their interests and to care about them.The philosopher Mary Midgley (1991) has noted: “To get near to people is tocollide with them” (p. 43).

Without that contact each child would be isolated. Each needs the directphysical clash, the practical conviction that others as well as himself arecapable both of feeling pain and of returning it. Surprising though it maybe, that interaction lies at the root of sympathy … A quarrel which isworked through and made up can be profoundly bond-forming (1984, p.89).

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356 J. F. Goodman

Midgley is saying, as I understand her, that to “know” someone is to know theirwants, their limits, their individuality. Especially in children that means knowing, ina physical sensory emotional sense, their pliancy and resistance. Anyone who hasspent time with children needs no convincing that anger and hurt amongst them donot inhibit a speedy return of sympathy and friendship; a � ght is quickly forgottenand the friendship quickly re-established, perhaps even strengthened.

Measured justi� ed strife, however, is not merely central to the formation ofsocial bonds but, as well, to growing an active conscience. It is the required responseto injustice (MacGuire, 1993, Midgley, 1984). The combination of sympathy andanger triggers outrage when someone is wronged and provokes us to act on thatoutrage. “Caring and anger are basic components of the moral self. Like intersectingcircles, they are essential to the design of healthy conscience” (MacGuire, 1993, p.183). The results of our anger-shy culture, MacGuire asserts, are political immobil-ity, for it is anger that resists the status quo, the willingness to go-along rather thancause a ruckus.

At this point an irritated reader may well retort, “No one denies the reality ofanger and hurt. The issue is not about the feeling of anger but its expression; to theextent possible that’s what we should curb and socialise. Encourage children to talkabout their feelings for sure, but don’t permit social insults and social rejection whenthe consequent hurt feelings might be avoided by a little self-control.” The burdenhere is not to suggest that children should be encouraged or even allowed unre-strained expression of feelings whenever provoked, but to suggest that a policy ofalways trying to inhibit the expression of such feelings, just because someone will behurt, is not cost-free. As the English philosopher and educator P. S. Wilson pointsout, the rightness of hurt and pain depends on the circumstances. Is it wrong, heasks, if …

a group of children, for example, cold-shoulder or rebuke a member oftheir group who is persistently spoiling what they are doing, or if betweentwo friends a painful estrangement occurs because of some insensitivity ormisunderstanding on the part of one or the other, or if a parent smacks achild because of some willfully absurd, destructive or cruel piece of behav-iour, must we say in any of these cases that the pain was necessarily “evil”?Doesn’t the judgment as to whether it was “evil” or not occur as part of amoral judgment taking account, not just of the existence of the pain, butof the wider context of actions and relationships in which the pain oc-curred? (1971, p. 114, italics in original).

Thoughtful people will endlessly dispute the question of how much expressionis too much. The tolerance one has for anger and hurt are matters of judgement thatall of us will not, and need not, agree upon. Most will disallow acts of physicalaggression, although perhaps � nd tolerable mild pushing and shoving, especially inthe young. But what about exclusion of children from play? What about the hurtsthat befall the losers in competition or the picked-last in sports? For some, this toois excessive—recall the goal of the Child Development Project to create a “caringcommunity of learners” by establishing “supportive relationships—not competitive,

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Niceness and the Limits of Rules 357

punitive, judgmental, or exclusionary ones” (Schaps et al., 1997, p. 128). Theessential point is not to draw lines in the sand, but to recognise that our concertedefforts to suppress the expression of mad and sad emotions have a downside. As oneattempts to minimise and socialise them one needs also to ask whether opportunitiesfor meaningful relationships, for resistance and righteous indignation are simul-taneously minimised.

Assuming some (reluctant) agreement with the position that in addition toencouraging compassion, consideration and tolerance educators should make(some) room for the experience and expression of anger, hurt and sadness, thereremains the question of criteria: when is it appropriate to let the negative feelings runtheir course, when should an educator interfere?

Guidelines for Judgements

We return to the original scene: Blunt has just told-off Rejected and refused to lethim enter the ongoing play group. Rejected seeks the teacher’s interference. Whilethere is no checklist for her to run through before she makes her judegment, thefollowing need to be considered: the wrongness of the action qua act, the motivesand consequences surrounding the action and the child’s prior knowledge andpersonal history.

Wrongness of the Act

Is the act itself, exclusive of context, harmful? If a child tips over a wheelchairsending a disabled child sprawling onto the concrete street, the hurt he sustains waswrongfully in� icted and the offending child should be stopped from repeating theact. Unlike the scenario with Insulted and Rejected, here there is scant potential gainfor the victim, little for him to learn from the endangerment and pain he hassuffered. He cannot “walk away” (psychologically as well as physically) from thesituation, take on an indifferent attitude towards it or readjust his self-perception asnon-disabled. If he comes out unscathed he perhaps will be less fearful of suchfuture encounters, but that possibility is offset by the equal likelihood of increasedfear over a future collision.

It also would be clearly wrong if Blunt, in our � rst scenario, had taken a walletfrom one of the adults, or if in the second example had picked up a block andthrown it at Rejected. The caretaker, in both instances, would be fully justi� ed intelling him not to do such a thing again. Stealing and injury need to be suppressedbecause of the serious harm they in� ict on others.

Motive and Consequences

But motives and consequences do affect the moral wrongness of the act and theblame we distribute. Our disapproval (as opposed to our prohibition) of thewheelchair incident would be increased if the offender overthrew it purposely tohumiliate the child with disabilities or to show off to others, decreased if it was

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358 J. F. Goodman

accidental. Our disapproval of the stealing would be increased if the child took themoney for himself, decreased if taken to help another. Our disapproval of theblock-throwing would be increased if it was a deliberate assault, decreased if it wasthe result of excessive exuberance. We also would consider consequences: was thechild in the wheelchair hurt? was the wallet empty or returned? did the block hit thechild, and, if so, was he hurt? However, it is the sanctions, rather than ouracceptance of the behaviour, that would be calibrated against the child’s intentionsand the actions’ consequences.

Knowledge and Personal History

It matters to our judging if the child pushing the wheelchair knows how easily it tipsand how helpless the victim is to de� ect the push. It matters if the child understandsthe nature of personal property, particularly money, and what it means to have thatmoney taken away. It matters if the child understands the harm that can come fromthrowing a brick. Background factors, too, should to be given consideration. Ouroutrage is probably modi� ed if the thief is much less well off than others, if theblock-thrower is himself the victim of family bullying.

The weighting for the teacher is yet more complicated. Given a consequentialistbent she might conclude that even if the intention of the actor was destructive butthe results immaterial (the child meant to hurt a victim’s feelings but his feelingsremained unhurt), since no harm was done blame should be foresworn. By contrast,if the consequences were severe and the intention innocent the child would nonethe-less be held blameworthy. Given a stronger motivational orientation she might � ndthe intention to hurt blameful regardless of injurious consequences.

Judging in Context

In light of these considerations, the actions to be taken in the two initial scenariosby a supervising adult are hardly obvious. As we have reviewed, the acts of Bluntwere not clearly wrong in themselves. The harms in� icted by very young Blunt wereindirect, the result of interpretation by the Insulteds; so, too, the harms of olderBlunt, for Rejected could have found other playmates or gained insight into theobjectionableness of his behaviours. Had the victims so chosen, in each instance theconsequences might have been harmless, conceivably even bene� cial.

Had the consequences been more serious—the Insulteds and Rejected, because oflongstanding personal histories of poor self-esteem, were devastated—or the motivemore culpable—Blunt wanted to humiliate the adults or advance his own socialstatus by rejecting a child’s play overture—we would not so readily let Blunt off thehook. We are willing to do so only on the presumption that most Insulteds andRejecteds could (psychologically) reframe Blunt’s remarks, and that it is fair toimpose such an expectation on them.

Judging is a delicate balancing act. Because a good rule (do not exclude) cancon� ict with other values (resisting a bully) values must be held in tension anddecisions should be context, not rule, determined. Except in rare situations, (for

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Niceness and the Limits of Rules 359

example serious violence), one cannot prescribe the right thing to do in advance ofknowing the motives, consequences, and personal history of Blunt, Insulted andRejected. Depending on this information it might be right to reprimand or tocommend Blunt. It all depends.

This lack of prescriptiveness is understandably problematic for educators whoare not only vested with the authority and responsibility for the welfare of childrenbut who naturally are inclined to aid the hurting pained child. Rules designed tocurb aggression and protect against hurt are reassuring to a teacher. The point ofthis essay is simply that such rules, applied universally, may be more comforting tothe adult than constructive for the child. Children are resilient. Against a back-ground of fundamental support and acceptance there are circumstances, I haveargued, when they not only can tolerate rejection and hurt but will bene� t from theexperience.

Acknowledgement

I thank my grandson Caleb Weinreb, whose questioning of strangers some � ve yearsago � rst alerted me to these issues.

Correspondence: Dr Joan F. Goodman, Professor, Graduate School of Education,University of Pennsylvania, 3700 Walnut Street, Philadelphia, PA, 19104, USA.

NOTES

[1] In addition to the no exclusion rule, Paley (1992) alludes to a not hitting rule.[2] Aside from our moral obligatioin to balance � rmness and kindiness, professional codes of ethics for

teachers of youong children emphasize the responsibility to report wrongdoing and imcompetence(Feeney & Freeman, 1999).

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