However, on a few rare occasions someone will come forward to counter this logic and argue that a murderer’s life is just as valuable as one’s own, regardless of status or station. But what kind of upbringing results in that sort of sensibility? I suppose it would come from a childhood where someone whispered fairy tales about the “precious value of life” in your ear every night before bed (if there are any such fairy tales). And if that were the case, I suppose I could understand ending up with that kind of attitude—even though it couldn’t be further from my own feelings.
