“Implicit amnesty” was a brisk response to Shelby, not a claim I wish to defend literally. The claim is “bad faith”. Here’s an example of behaviour which I think would be in bad faith. I get in a fight with someone in a bar, for whatever reason. He has me pinned to the bar and is about to strike me. I say to him “Calm down, let’s have drink” and I buy him a drink. We both finish our beers amicably, he turns his back to leave and at that point I jump him from behind and beat him up. Do you think there is nothing untoward about such behaviour?

I find the problem with reading things into an offer is that it’s not clear if the person doing the reading has the same things in the mind as the person doing the offer. In this case, the newspaper reports I’ve read do not have the host saying something like “Here, have a glass of wine and we’ll forget all about it”. So you are reading an implicit offer into the hosts and guests’ heads, which surprised me as I don’t read any such thing into the offer of a glass of wine.

So if there is an implicit offer in a glass of wine in itself, even if not any accompanied by any words, I’d like to know when it applies and what the limits are. After all, I am a rather literal person, but I don’t think I’m a sensible person so I’d prefer some clarity around the point rather than relying on my sense. If I’m going to be making implicit offers whenever I give someone a hug or a glass of wine, then I’d like to know the limits of the offers.

As to why I would offer a comparative stranger a drink? Reasons include: – I see they’re thirsty and want to relieve that – I want them to praise the wine I’m supplying – I’m trying to get something from them, which may include getting out with my life, as in the hypothetical case where a gun-wielding stranger enters my house – I’m grateful to them in some way, for example I love their blog. – I’m interested in starting an acquaintance. – I already owe them a drink.
About the only reason I’d offer a comparative stranger a hug is that they look very distressed and lonely and in need of some human touch. As you may have guessed I am not American.
So to summarise I have offered a drink or a hug for reasons that do not include wanting to make a gesture of friendship or reconciliation. All in all, I think anyone looking for an amnesty from a glass of wine offered by me should try and get at least a verbal statement of what they think I’m offering. At least until Engels has clarified what these implicit offers are all about.

There’s a concept called “duress” that’s applicable here.

And this, of course, cuts right to the heart of the matter. A promise made under duress is never binding, but not all coercion is duress. In particular, a gentleperson (and only a gentleperson; our institution of the same name is a debased farce) can offer parole. The theory here is that you hold a gun merely to my head, not to my honor, and that therefore in matters of honor I remain a free agent, valuing my life at a feather against my honor as of course I must.

I believe it is widely understood that an offer of hospitality in the home touches upon the honor of the host. And food and drink graciously served, never mind the group hugs, are clear hospitality markers, as a surrendered wallet as surely is not. I’d like to think I would consider myself bound if I behaved so.

A gentleman, apparently, just knows. (Skip down to “Christianity and Anarchism. More here and here.)

E. M. Forster sets the barrier much lower, offering implicit amnesty only to friends. Shaw’s standard sounds more like Stephen Maturin’s; perhaps a stiff dose of Irish history is a sound basis from which to understand the name of an informer.

I think it was actually here, several years ago, that someone noticed that the NRA refrain “when X is outlawed, only outlaws will have X” works for arbitrary predicates. If we outlawed ripe Camembert, or possibly even Morbier, the outlaws would be much, much easier to identify in a crowd.

Cristina Rowan offered the burglar a glass of wine, which appears to have been an honest offer. Michael Rabdau, the host, offered the burglar the whole glass, which also appears to have been an honest offer.

Then all the adults gave him a hug.

How does offering someone a glass of wine, or a bottle of wine, implicitly mean that you are offering them an amnesty?

And what exactly triggers this implicit amnesty, and where does it extend to? Does buying someone a drink in a pub trigger the implicit amnesty, or do you have to offer someone a drink in your own home? Does the offer of a glass or a bottle of wine only imply an amnesty for breaking and entering, or does it extent to other crimes such as driving without a license? And what’s the scale for offers of hospitality? Presumably inviting someone over for a five course meal means more of an implicit amnesty than offering a glass of wine? Say you discover by accident that your dinner guest is robbing your grandma’s retirement funds, can you report him to the Serious Fraud Office? Does it depend on if you served lobster or meatloaf as the main course? Should the implicit amnesty be normalised by your income so a millionaire doesn’t need to offer amnesty if they served meatloaf instead of lobster but a poverty-stricken graduate student does?

These are worrying questions that need resolving before I dare to offer someone a drink ever again.

The police don’t have the authority to make bargains with criminals—only the prosecutor does. If the police say, “Tell us what you did and we won’t prosecute you”—insist on hearing it from the prosecutor.