I sympathise, but respectfully disagree

Why must the ability to resolve or accept contradictions necessarily be conflated with hypocrisy? Sometimes it is only the ability to see ever-finer subtleties and gradations in the logic of the world, or to transcend the contradiction altogether and formulate new rules which supersede the old ones. Computers will only see as much as they were built to; any formal system which is intricate and complex enough will, must (Kurt Gödel proved beyond doubt---although he used the irrefutable formal logic characteristic of computers, he arrived at his result through the infinitely malleable insight only humans are capable of---) ultimately be incomplete. Only humans are able to handle the world in its entirety, by comprehending contradictions or ironies in strange, new ways which may turn out to be useful after all, or by riding over them in a Arthur Dent ("what?" with intensely furrowed brows) or Ford Prefect ("who cares, let's go for lunch") way.
So the most important difference between human and computer, between life and machine, at least in my humble opinion, is the flexibility of the logic of life, the ability to keep an open mind, one which can squiggle and wriggle its way out of any contradiction. Because life has to go on, even when one encounters contradictions.
One way such a flexibility would manifest itself is a thoroughly rational mindset. Some things may be a little unsavoury, or to put it in rather more clinical terms, they carry negative externalities. Gambling, drugs, even smoking. The government should tax these things, some say, to discouage people from them. But no, others say, the government should seek to eradicate them altogether, for the suffering they bring is simply not commensurate with pithy cents and dollars, no matter how many of them one can amass. Yes, I agree, money alone will never be adequate compensation for human suffering, for broken families and the miseries of lung cancer. But with the money, measures can be put in place that will help address and alleviate these forms of suffering. And, more importantly, sometimes attempting to eradicate these things expends much more resources, and causes much more misery, than a well-implemented system of controls which may include partial legalisation and taxation. However much we hate to admit it, some less-savoury instincts are deeply ingrained in the human psyche. The instinct to gamble, the instinct to seek instant gratification. Not everyone has the self-discipline to overcome their baser instincts all the time, and moralizing can only achieve so much. Some things, like the instinct to kill, are so destructive it is plainly in everyone's interests to suppress them altogether. In the case of others, such as the urge to gamble, the situation is rather more ambiguous.
One archetypical example used to support the argument against a uniformly hard line is the drug situation in the United States, versus that in the Netherlands. The United States takes an extremely hard official line against drug use and trafficking. Both "hard" drugs such as heroin and cocaine, and "soft" drugs such as marijuana, are illegal, and punishable with harsh penalties. The Netherlands, on the other hand, makes a distinction between the two, and "soft" drugs can be legally sold and consumed in licensed establishments, while "hard" drugs, including heroin and metampthetamines, remain illegal. It is important to note that this is not the same as blanket legalisation. Many classes of drugs remain illegal, and, more importantly, it is still illegal to light up a marijuana joint in the middle of the street. There is still a system of controls in place; it is just that the system aims not to eradicate drug use altogether, but only to control it so that its harm to society is minimised---and the partial legalisation of cannabis is not entirely unreasonable on medical and other grounds. The result of the contrasting policies, which may surprise you, show that the Netherlands has less of a drug problem than the United States. Not only that, rates of violent crime, a phenomenon routinely associated with drug consumption, are lower in the Netherlands than they are in the United States. One may also note that the Netherlands is also (in)famous for legalised prostitution, but that its HIV/AIDS prevalence rates and divorce rates are lower than many developed countries which take a harsher stand towards the world's oldest profession.
I oppose, strongly, the Gahmen's decision to build casinos in this Most Serene Republic. But I must concede that they have put some thought into policies and measures to counteract the possible negative effects of the casinos, and, possibly, just possibly, in the long-run their decision may turn out to have been a reasonable one, on the balance.
The bottom line is, when it comes to such unsavoury activities, eradication may seem a worthy ideal on paper, but sometimes does not work as well in practice as a well-designed, well-run system of controls which will channel "baser" human instincts down relatively harmless, or at least less harmful, lines. Far too often eradication presents a too-convenient slogan for the policymakers, who then think themselves relieved of the duty of fine-tuning their policies and systems of control. Consequently the blunt and unrefined systems of regulation put in place to effect such eradication create plenty of bullshit and cause plenty of suffering themselves. We need to put thought into formulating our responses to these perceived social problems, and must remain open to courses of action which we may initially reject as "immoral", "irrational", or otherwise, if the evidence shows that they are in fact effective in reducing the harm to society. Of course we may note that Singapore has quite successfully tackled the drug issue by taking a far harsher line than even the United States---but this one example does not detract from my main thrust that what we need are well-thought-through responses, not knee-jerk reactions.
Another manifestation of such an inherent malleablity of thought is a healthy sense of irony and humour, and the accompanying ability to feel detachment when necessary. As a policymaker or political leader you supposedly weigh the happiness of thousands, even millions, every day, and your actions may affect as many people. As a military leader commanding an army, a division, even a company, in wartime, hundreds or thousands of lives may hang on your every word. Should you take that seriously? Yes, definitely. Should you be scared of it? I say no. How do you make proper judgements and decisions when you are scared? It is crucial, then, to be involved enough to care, but detached enough to assess the situation and decide coolly, calmly, rationally, wisely. Yes, my actions do matter to many, many people---yet how ridiculous that is! So many people beholden, in that way, to a single individual ... and so ultimately, when it comes to the crunch, the thought should perish, temporarily perhaps, but perish nevertheless, from the decision-maker's head. S/he should only be thinking of whether that was the best decision, and why, not of the horrific consequences for others if it were not. And in the course of everyday life, it should be perfectly normal for him/her to forget, temporarily, about more public responsibilities---lives do not hang in the balance upon decisions of what to have for dinner, or when to go to sleep---until duty calls again.
But anyway, it's dinnertime. (And that, by the way, was the 200th post.)