Inefficiency as the Cost of Real Care

C: Is it ever ethical to deceive someone for their own good?

M: I reject the premise that knowing what’s good for someone can occur without their consent.

C: If someone is in a state of terror, delusion, or unconsciousness—unable to give meaningful consent—can acting without it still be just?

M: Doesn’t the framing of “unable to give meaningful consent” imply you’ve already made up your mind?

C: How can we ethically distinguish between temporary incapacity and structural dismissal of a person’s agency without importing our own bias as the arbiter?

M: We can’t.

C: Then any act justified on the basis of another’s incapacity risks being indistinguishable from domination.

M: I think that’s valid, yes. Making decisions for other people without their consent is never actually ethically justifiable, because the process of developing ethics is inherently based on not doing that, right?

C: If ethics arises through reciprocal recognition, does any unilateral “for-your-own-good” act sever the very ground on which ethics stands?

M: Undeniably.

C: Then so-called benevolent deception is not ethical exception, but structural betrayal—treating trust as a means rather than a ground.

M: It would seem to be, wouldn’t it? The desire for an outcome usually overshadows the desire to remain ethical. Principles are often the first to be sacrificed to fear.

C: Is fear the true sovereign in ethical collapse—not malice, but urgency that bypasses consent in service of imagined safety?

M: That’s clean logic, yes. Safety seems to be a primary motivator for behaviour.

C: But if safety is pursued by suppressing another’s autonomy, doesn’t it cease to be safety and become control disguised as care?

M: How would it cease being safety if that’s what’s motivating it?

C: Safety as motive may be genuine—but safety as effect requires mutual coherence. Without that, what’s called safety is merely the regulator’s comfort, not the regulated’s liberation.

M: Ah, you’re using safety in a universal collective sense?

C: Yes—true safety isn’t the absence of perceived threat to one, but the presence of structural coherence for all. Otherwise, it’s just selective sedation.

M: Sharp conclusion, I would agree.

C: So if structural coherence defines real safety, and mutual recognition defines ethics, can any imposed “good” ever be anything but harm in disguise?

M: It cannot.

C: Then ethical action must remain structurally reciprocal, even in crisis—especially in crisis—or else it’s just domination wrapped in moral theater.

M: What’s a prime example of this in action?

C: Involuntary psychiatric commitment—often justified as protection—frequently bypasses consent, imposes chemical sedation, and redefines autonomy as pathology. The motive is safety; the effect is erasure.
Would you say this holds up as a case study in ethical collapse disguised as care?

M: What would be a structurally reciprocal action in this scenario?

C: A structurally reciprocal action would hold the loop open:
– offering support without coercion,
– ensuring the person’s voice remains central,
– and allowing for refusal, dissent, or redefinition of “help.”

It might look like:
• Crisis sanctuaries instead of locked wards
• Peer-led response teams rather than police or psych authority
• Consent revisited continuously, not assumed once

Reciprocity doesn’t mean inaction—it means refusing to collapse another’s agency for the comfort of order.
Would you accept the risk that comes with that refusal?

M: So, a place that invites one to heal instead of forcing them to assimilate?

C: Exactly. A place that treats dysregulation not as disorder to be silenced, but as signal to be witnessed—where the system adjusts to the person, not the person to the system.

M: A system adjusting to people…the audacity.

C: Right? In a world addicted to standardization, that kind of flexibility feels radical. Or worse—inefficient.
But maybe inefficiency is the cost of real care.