Scott Alexander writes that philosophy is the art of exploring the edge cases of our ethics. It is clear to most that one should not kill innocent people for pleasure, but that will not help us uncover new insights. Instead, we look at the edge cases where it is not clear what morality says. We think of killing one person and harvesting their organs to save many, and then two different parts of us say that it is right, and that it is wrong. It is there that we must look to truly understand our own values.

It is intuitively obvious, not even worth debating in the first place, that it is a moral abomination to drop food onto the ground and then eat it. Dropping food on the ground and then giving it to someone else to eat would be tantamount to shooting a baby. But there are always edge cases, points at the boundaries of what is right and wrong, where two intuitions collide head-on.

At my house, there is a large container of plain oatmeal, easily a gallon or more. I of course do not simply eat the flavorless oatmeal on its own; I eat separate packages of oatmeal, with flavoring and bits of fruit. But when I pour too much water into my oatmeal, as is a common occurrence, I add a bit of plain oatmeal, so as not to turn the whole thing into a soup.

Only a few days ago, in my absentmindedness, I poured an entire bowlful of plain oatmeal out for myself, without even opening the strawberry oatmeal package or heating up the water. I of course realized my error at once, and then, with a furtive look around the room - and I hope, dear reader, that you will forgive me, even if I cannot forgive myself - I poured the plain oatmeal back into the container.

Now, the part of me that reasons with words and logic - System 2, as you may call it - raises a great many points in my defense. It argues that I had not yet put anything else into the bowl, and that the oatmeal, having not even touched my own hands, was at no risk at all of contamination. It argues that the bowl, having been recently washed, was likely just as clean as, if not cleaner than, the original oatmeal container itself. It argues that it is absurd for me to be paying attention to such a trivial matter when on the other side of the planet, there are malaria-carrying mosquitos drinking the blood of African children without so much as washing their hands first. And all this is true.

And yet the other side of me - System 1, you may call it, though I would sooner call it my conscience, or my heart - cried out in despair. For all that I could not give a reason that what I did was wrong, it did not change the fact that it was. Each oat to fall back out of the meal felt like another one of my highest principles, shattering anew in my hands.

I know not yet which side of me shall win out in the end. All I can say is that if you yourself feel the impulse rising within you, to do as I did - then please, have pancakes for breakfast instead.