We live in a violent world. We're regularly bombarded with stories and images of physical violence. But violence can manifest itself in different ways.

According to the World Health Organisation, violence can also be defined as the intentional use of force or power that results in psychological harm.

Even if we don't commit acts of harm ourselves, we can regularly find ourselves interacting with powerful institutions that do, like the justice system, big financial institutions and other economically exploitative industries.

Does that make us culpable? What responsibility do we have to minimise harm to those around us?

That's this week's Hairy Question, answered by ABC Life's resident philosopher and ethicist Matt Beard. Here we go!

What do I do with my violence?

I am a clinical psychologist — I have worked in fields involving violence, perpetration and victimhood/survivorhood for over 20 years.

It appears to me that all humans are violent. This might not mean we use physical force, but invariably our activities will in some ways do violence to other people.

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Personally, I'm pretty well-off. I'm employed and well educated, I have all the advantages that come with being white and male in Australia, and my faith — Catholicism — isn't as maligned as many others in this country.

What's more, I work in the mental health and justice systems, where I see how the scars of colonialism are yet to heal — and in some ways, the system might be making them worse.

And then there's the indirect harm I might cause by using and supporting banks, clothing manufacturers and unsustainable businesses contributing to climate change.

As a result, I find it really hard to argue that my life is genuinely non-violent, and I don't think most others' lives are either… I think most people live in denial of the harm they cause other people, but I don't want to do that.

So, my Hairy Question to you is this: what do I do with my violence?

— Mark K

This question has been edited for clarity and brevity.

Matt Beard wants to hear the stuff that's keeping you up at night, the things you're arguing about in the group chat or mulling over at parents' group. Send in your hairy questions to life@abc.net.au and he'll throw some ideas at you.

Dr Beard's response

Dr Matt Beard is a husband, dad, pop culture nerd, moral philosopher and ethicist. ( Supplied )

One of my favourite sayings comes from a philosopher named Carol Gilligan. She says, "We live on a trampoline — if we move, it affects a whole lot of people."

Professor Gilligan helped develop a theory known as the 'ethics of care'. She wanted to call attention to the inescapable relationships we're all thrown into the moment we're born.

We don't always get to choose who we're connected to, or who our actions will affect. All the same, Professor Gilligan tells us that we're still obliged to take those relationships into account. We have to show care for the people we're connected to and give them a voice in the matters that will affect them.

Professor Gilligan's chief interest was in the direct relationships we have — with colleagues, family, neighbours and the like.

Today we're discovering that our web of relationships goes much further than the people we bump into on the street or share a building with. We live in a global economy, a nation comprised of over 24 million people and an ecosystem that includes countless animals, insects and plants.

The trampoline we're bouncing on is bloody enormous.

Trying to act in a way that integrates the needs and interests of all those people is enough to stop you from ever doing anything.

Refusing to take action can still be problematic

To make matters worse, not doing anything also has ethical implications. If you refuse to do anything for fear of it being morally tainted — for example, not donating to a charity for fear they will use it irresponsibly — you might also be failing to contribute to the good those charities do.

If it seems like you're damned if you do and damned if you don't, it's because in one way, we are. In a world as complicated as ours, perfectly pure actions are hard to come by.

There will usually be some reason to suggest what we've done is morally tainted. There will be someone who suffered, a wrong that hasn't been righted, an imperfect system perpetuated.

But in the face of this, we still have to do something. And I applaud you for not wanting to bury your head in the sand and ignore this reality. Living ethically and authentically means living in an honest relationship with the world. That means facing the truth, even when it's ugly, and acting accordingly.

(This is the part where this column starts to get a bit less defeatist and a bit more constructive, so kudos if you've stuck with me through the gloomy reality I've sketched above.)

It might be useful to consider an ethical concept known as the 'doctrine of double-effect'. This idea recognises something pretty straightforward: when we do something, our actions have a bunch of different consequences. Some of those consequences are the ones we intended, and some aren't.

Problems arise when we can't get our intended consequences (like giving to charity) without some undesirable side effects (like abetting wasteful spending or corruption).

The doctrine of double-effect in practice

Double-effect says it's OK to do things that have bad side effects, so long as the action meets a set of strict criteria.

First, you have to want the good effects and you can't want the bad effects to come about.

If someone I hate has a mosquito on their face and I use it as an opportunity to slap them in the face, I can't justify the harm (a satisfying slap) by arguing that I saved them from a mozzie bite. The reality is, I wanted to slap them in the face and used the mozzie as an excuse.

But wait, there's more. It's also important that the bad effects are a genuine side effect of your action.

That means they are inescapable, and happen at the same time as the good effects. There's a difference between slapping someone to kill a mozzie that's about to bite them and slapping them when there's no mozzie because you've heard mozzies don't like to bite bruised faces. If the harm comes before the good, that's a different ethical ballgame.

It's also crucial that the good effects outweigh the bad effects and that we've done everything in our power to minimise any harms that happen from our actions.

This means our actions have to do more good than harm, and — most importantly — that we never just accept the inevitability of harm. Instead, we're obliged to do whatever we can to prove we don't want to benefit from harmful side effects. The best way to do this is to try to minimise them.

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Our imperfect world shouldn't stop us doing good where we can

This brings us to a pretty satisfying conclusion. The thing we have to do with our violence is minimise it — and ultimately end it.

What's more, it tells us that although it's important that we don't enjoy or want our actions to cause or perpetuate violence, that's not enough. If you're not doing anything to correct the harms you're caught up in, you're not doing enough to justify your actions.

What can we do to address the systemic harms you're talking about? A revolutionary philosopher named Frantz Fanon wrote a lot about decolonial violence. He thought that one of the effects of violence was to make the subjects of violence see themselves as weak and unable to fight back.

Fanon argued that fighting back — proving your own strength — may be an antidote to that weakness. But I wonder if Professor Gilligan gives us another possibility.

Remember, Professor Gilligan thinks one of our key ethical duties is to give voice to the people who we're in a relationship with. For her, a key component of care is listening.

As I'm sure you know from your work with victims and survivors, there is dignity in being heard and being able to testify to your suffering.

It can give you agency and input in solving the problem and avoid the postcolonial problem of trying to "save" victims of injustice.

We don't live in a perfect world, and we shouldn't let that get in the way of doing good things to reduce harm when we see it. But we also shouldn't let it justify us doing less than we could to make the world as good as it can be.

Dr Matt Beard is a husband, dad, pop culture nerd, moral philosopher, ethicist, author, presenter of the ABC's Short & Curly and a Fellow at The Ethics Centre.