You’re walking to school on a crisp morning. The sidewalk is quiet, your breath fogs in the cool air. Your shoe hits something heavy. You glance down. A wallet. You look around. No one’s in sight. When you pick it up, it’s heavier than you expect. You open it. Inside: thick stacks of cash, five thousand dollars. Two glossy tickets to your favorite artist’s concert. And then… an ID card.
You know this face. A popular student from your class. Not your best friend, not even someone close, but… kind. They say hi in the hallway. They’ve invited you into conversations when they didn’t have to.
Your stomach knots. Because you’re in trouble.
Your private school tuition bill is unpaid. You’ve been dodging calls from the office. Lunch money has been scarce. This money — this wallet — could solve everything. Tuition. Food. Even leave enough for a small taste of freedom.
But it isn’t yours. And you know exactly who it belongs to.
The owner’s parents are well-off — a former investment banker and a doctor. Money doesn’t mean survival to them the way it does for you.
You stand there, gripping the wallet. The street is empty. No one knows you found it.
What do you do? Do you slip the wallet into your backpack, pay off your debts, and finally breathe? Or do you walk into school, hand it back, and live with the weight of your own honesty?
Thinking about this from a utilitarian perspective, the first and foremost goal is to measure happiness. If you keep the wallet, your suffering eases. You stay in school, you eat better, you feel secure. One person loses some money — but their family is wealthy. The total happiness seems greater if you keep it.
But it is also possible that returning it brings longer-term trust, respect, maybe even future kindness from the owner. Utilitarianism asks: Which choice truly maximizes well-being, for everyone?
Another form of thinking maybe this: rules matter, not consequences. The money isn’t yours. Keeping it is theft. Kant would ask: What if everyone kept lost wallets? Society would collapse into mistrust. Duty says: no matter how badly you need it, you must return it. Because morality isn’t about what feels good. It’s about what is right.
Then comes another angle: what kind of person are you becoming? A virtuous person — honest, just, honorable — would hand the wallet back. Even when no one is watching. Because your actions shape your character.
But… virtue also includes compassion. And maybe compassion for yourself means keeping it. Which version of you do you want to grow into?
Think about the relationship. This classmate isn’t a stranger — they’ve treated you kindly. Would you betray that unspoken bond?
Returning the wallet strengthens human connection. Keeping it severs it. Ethics of care says morality isn’t about abstract rules — it’s about how we treat those around us.
And finally, self-interest whispers. You’re in debt. You’re hungry. You’re tired of struggling. Isn’t survival the ultimate good?
If you keep it and no one ever finds out, your life improves. Egoism says: morality is irrelevant — what matters is whether it benefits you.
So here you stand, holding the wallet. Five thousand dollars. Two tickets. And a choice.
Will you return it, honoring rules, virtue, and care? Or will you keep it, following survival, temptation, and maybe even utility?
The decision is yours.
Which path would you take?