One night, as I arrived home from my Knights of Columbus council
meeting, I noticed that my front door was ajar, and that there was a shadow
moving past the curtains on the living room window. A burglary, I thought, more angry than scared. So I called 911,
retrieved my Sig Sauer from my glove box, got out of my car as quietly as
possible, and crept inside.[*]
As I tiptoed into the living room, the burglar was bending
over to pick up the television set from the entertainment center. “Stop!” I
commanded, pointing the Sig at him. “Put it down slowly, then stand up with
your hands in the air. The cops are coming; you’re going to go to jail for
burglary.”
The burglar did as I told him. To my surprise, though, he
asked, “Is burglary wrong because the law says so, or does the law say so
because burglary is wrong?”
Puzzled, I asked, “What does it matter?”
“Well,” he responded, “if Texas law says so because burglary
is wrong, then the State of Texas doesn’t really define burglary.”
I shrugged. “That’s a trivial objection, because Texas enacted
the definition in its laws, and you’re still subject to Texas law. But what if
I say burglary is wrong because Texas law says so?”
The burglar smirked — or, at least, I think he smirked; it was difficult to tell through his pantyhose
mask in the dim light. “In the first place, if it’s wrong only because the law
says so, then ‘wrong things are against the law’ is merely a tautology, and
says nothing significant about wrongness.”