Philosophers are known for disagreeing with each other a lot, sometimes in a way that gives people the impression that the whole pursuit is fruitless. Of course, the view that philosophy contains some irreconcilable disagreements is itself a philosophical position. Even if you don't like philosophy, you aren't able to avoid taking philosophical stances.
One reason people think philosophy is a trivial enterprise is that it is perceived that all philosophers do is argue about the meaning of words. And many famous disagreements are of just this sort! Scanlon and Parfit argue about the correct definition of the word "rational," and Judith Jarvis Thomson has argued vehemently that there is no subjective sense of the word "ought." Some race theorists argue that, properly understood, minority racial groups cannot truly be "racist."
However, if you think that these are the only kinds things philosophers disagree about, you are wrong.
When I make the claim, "You ought to be vegan," you and I can agree upon the same definitions of those words and still disagree on the truth value of the statement. This indicates fundamental moral disagreement.
Conversely I might also say "It is rational [Scanlon's sense] to be vegan" or "It is not rational [Parfit's sense] to be vegan," and both of these statements could be true (this is not, in fact, where their disagreement about rationality lies). Once everyone in the discussion understands the way the words are being used, disagreement disappears.
What Scanlon, Parfit, Thomson, and others are doing when they disagree about the meanings of these words is a bit complicated. I think in general, they are trying to say that the most natural reading of the word fits their definition. They will all admit that if you stipulate that the word carries a certain meaning in a particular context, then it can mean whatever you like. However, they also have normative views about how we ought to think and behave, and they think that the fact that a normatively loaded word (rational, ought, racist) has their particular natural reading gives credence to their substantive view.
Some people find this kind of disagreement tedious and futile. At times, I am tempted to agree. If you are insistent enough that a word means something, I might agree, but the relationship between a word and its definition is essentially trivial. If I say "Murdering people is always wrong," but by "murder" I mean "wrongfully kill," then I've essentially said "Wrongfully killing people is always wrong." Which is true, but quite uninteresting.
When I tell you that I believe the we ought to avoid the unnecessary suffering and death of animals, I expect that you'll agree. I hope that a further understanding of this principle and the world will get you to go vegan. However, I am not relying on the mere fact that we have definitions in common to motivate you. Rather, it is the truth of the fact that unnecessary suffering and death is bad that is compelling.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Robert Garner Says Vile Things
If I've never said it this way before, I'll say it now: if you don't believe in animal rights, the argument from marginal cases is your biggest challenge.
Take Robert Garner, who co-wrote The Animal Rights Debate with Gary Francione. Garner is an advocate of animal welfare reform, and he certainly thinks there is a great deal wrong with the current state of animal exploitation (honestly, this is nearly nonsensical to deny). However, he does not take a strong rights position, merely claiming that animals have an interest in not suffering (and not an interest in not being used or killed.)
At one point he gestures at the argument from marginal cases, indicates that it's very controversial in the literature, and suggests that he has reasons to doubt its validity. Of course, he fails to actually spell out these reasons.
Essentially he claims that because of the diminished capacities that animals have compared to humans, they lack the ability to have an interest (and therefore a right) in continued existence. This is a bizarre claim on its face, because its hardly implausible that to go on living is prima facie a good thing for anyone with a chance at a decent life. Nevertheless, this argument implies that there are some humans who have diminished capacities and thus also lack this right. Most people will regard the idea that a sentient human doesn't have a right (in some sense) to their own life as vile.
What of the option of denying the argument from marginal cases? Well this would result in arguing that species is a moral criterion. And it's very difficult to see how this argument could plausibly be made, without providing equal justification for racism, sexism, and indeed, ableism.
Take Robert Garner, who co-wrote The Animal Rights Debate with Gary Francione. Garner is an advocate of animal welfare reform, and he certainly thinks there is a great deal wrong with the current state of animal exploitation (honestly, this is nearly nonsensical to deny). However, he does not take a strong rights position, merely claiming that animals have an interest in not suffering (and not an interest in not being used or killed.)
At one point he gestures at the argument from marginal cases, indicates that it's very controversial in the literature, and suggests that he has reasons to doubt its validity. Of course, he fails to actually spell out these reasons.
Essentially he claims that because of the diminished capacities that animals have compared to humans, they lack the ability to have an interest (and therefore a right) in continued existence. This is a bizarre claim on its face, because its hardly implausible that to go on living is prima facie a good thing for anyone with a chance at a decent life. Nevertheless, this argument implies that there are some humans who have diminished capacities and thus also lack this right. Most people will regard the idea that a sentient human doesn't have a right (in some sense) to their own life as vile.
What of the option of denying the argument from marginal cases? Well this would result in arguing that species is a moral criterion. And it's very difficult to see how this argument could plausibly be made, without providing equal justification for racism, sexism, and indeed, ableism.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Working Conditions and Worker's Choice
Matt Ygelsias gave an interesting post inspired by the recent deaths in a Bangladesh factory collapse. Many people took issue with his argument, and he responded to their criticisms in a following post.
There are some points to be made about the clarity of Yglesias' original post, and perhaps appropriateness of his post in light of the tragedy. However, I think this kind of debate takes up far too much of our time. Rather, I wish more people engaged with the substance of Yglesias' original post, which is really about international inequality. (Most mainstream inequality discussions focus on national inequality, but even brief reflection will lead one to conclude that the levels of international inequality are graver.)
So Yglesias argued against the notion that their ought to be universal international safety standards for factory workers. Instead, he says, different, and indeed lower, safety standards an be appropriate for poorer countries to choose. This is because safety standards increase the costs of production, which may lead to either lower wages or fewer jobs. If people in a given country decide (as a community or as individuals) to have riskier jobs instead of having lower wages or not job, then we ought to let that be their choice.
Obviously, (as Yglesias' work is known for) this thought goes against the grain of liberal sentiment. It seems rather perverse to say it's okay to let desperate workers put themselves in risky environments so we can have cheaply made cardigans.
Yet we do ourselves no favors when we uncharitably interpret the work of others. So is this really what Ygelsias is trying to say?
I think not. There are some separate questions to be untangled here. First, most people of a liberal disposition, favoring egalitarian principles (and to my mind, any reasonable person) would ideally want there to be enough equality across the world that no one has to work in desperate conditions. That's the kind of world we want. However, since we don't live in that world, we can ask: what we can do to make this world better?
And though equal safety in working conditions would be a part of a perfect world, it does not follow that pursuing that narrow end is the right course of action. Because though it might be risky to work under certain working conditions, it's also very risky to not have enough money to feed your kids. Or to fix a your house, or educate yourself. (I'm not an expert on the living conditions in Bangladesh, but obviously these points apply more broadly.)
Enforcing American-level safety standards on poorer countries is not the answer. Because safety regulations do impose financial burdens, they might mean that a certain factory doesn't open, or hires fewer workers. So this means that the international safety standards decide for the potential workers what risks she ought to take (e.g., working in a dangerous factory vs. not making enough money.) And that's not what we should be in the business of doing, individuals are most often best situated to make these choices. (As Yglesias notes in his post, there are collective action problems about risky workplaces, but these are problems best solved by the local collective, not international fiat.)
These are facts about economics. However, as I have noted in the past, we ought not let studying economics make us bad people. What I mean by this is that even though this might be the right prescription for policy choices, this line of reasoning does not justify personal action. This is where the liberal intuition that Yglesias is saying something perverse comes from, because it sounds as though he is justifying sweatshop labor. This intuition is important, but misunderstood if one takes it to apply to the economic argument.
I think we should pay a reasonable price for our goods, such that the workers who make them should not have to work in unsafe conditions. Because of this, we should try to buy products that we know were made in safe and fair conditions. As a result, a greater portion of our income might go, for example, to clothing, (or perhaps we might just buy fewer clothes.) We should try to act in a way that demonstrates our willingness to accept costs to live more equally with others.
There are some points to be made about the clarity of Yglesias' original post, and perhaps appropriateness of his post in light of the tragedy. However, I think this kind of debate takes up far too much of our time. Rather, I wish more people engaged with the substance of Yglesias' original post, which is really about international inequality. (Most mainstream inequality discussions focus on national inequality, but even brief reflection will lead one to conclude that the levels of international inequality are graver.)
So Yglesias argued against the notion that their ought to be universal international safety standards for factory workers. Instead, he says, different, and indeed lower, safety standards an be appropriate for poorer countries to choose. This is because safety standards increase the costs of production, which may lead to either lower wages or fewer jobs. If people in a given country decide (as a community or as individuals) to have riskier jobs instead of having lower wages or not job, then we ought to let that be their choice.
Obviously, (as Yglesias' work is known for) this thought goes against the grain of liberal sentiment. It seems rather perverse to say it's okay to let desperate workers put themselves in risky environments so we can have cheaply made cardigans.
Yet we do ourselves no favors when we uncharitably interpret the work of others. So is this really what Ygelsias is trying to say?
I think not. There are some separate questions to be untangled here. First, most people of a liberal disposition, favoring egalitarian principles (and to my mind, any reasonable person) would ideally want there to be enough equality across the world that no one has to work in desperate conditions. That's the kind of world we want. However, since we don't live in that world, we can ask: what we can do to make this world better?
And though equal safety in working conditions would be a part of a perfect world, it does not follow that pursuing that narrow end is the right course of action. Because though it might be risky to work under certain working conditions, it's also very risky to not have enough money to feed your kids. Or to fix a your house, or educate yourself. (I'm not an expert on the living conditions in Bangladesh, but obviously these points apply more broadly.)
Enforcing American-level safety standards on poorer countries is not the answer. Because safety regulations do impose financial burdens, they might mean that a certain factory doesn't open, or hires fewer workers. So this means that the international safety standards decide for the potential workers what risks she ought to take (e.g., working in a dangerous factory vs. not making enough money.) And that's not what we should be in the business of doing, individuals are most often best situated to make these choices. (As Yglesias notes in his post, there are collective action problems about risky workplaces, but these are problems best solved by the local collective, not international fiat.)
These are facts about economics. However, as I have noted in the past, we ought not let studying economics make us bad people. What I mean by this is that even though this might be the right prescription for policy choices, this line of reasoning does not justify personal action. This is where the liberal intuition that Yglesias is saying something perverse comes from, because it sounds as though he is justifying sweatshop labor. This intuition is important, but misunderstood if one takes it to apply to the economic argument.
I think we should pay a reasonable price for our goods, such that the workers who make them should not have to work in unsafe conditions. Because of this, we should try to buy products that we know were made in safe and fair conditions. As a result, a greater portion of our income might go, for example, to clothing, (or perhaps we might just buy fewer clothes.) We should try to act in a way that demonstrates our willingness to accept costs to live more equally with others.
Monday, March 11, 2013
What We're Up Against
One thing I've tried to focus on in this blog is the form of unjustified bias, specifically biases that limit our moral consideration of other individuals on the basis of morally irrelevant characteristics. Most salient in my discussion thus far has been the bias of speciesism, which entails the privileging of members of certain species, typically homo sapiens. I've argued at length that this is unjustified, and will continue to do so.
One of the features of this case that contributes to my confidence in the indefensible nature of speciesism is structural similarities it shares with other forms of bias, such as racism and sexism. Most intelligent people in my culture at least purportedly reject racial and sex discrimination, but this has not always been so. Given the racist and sexist history of the world, we should not be surprised to find other unjustified biases that are still widely accepted, and this thought in part led me to my own investigation of the validity of a human/animal ethical divide.
But there are other unjustified biases that exist that still command widespread acceptance, and are not the subjects of well-publicized advocacy. One that I've been thinking about more recently is the extent to which many (if not most) people are quite nationalistic. For example, as I've discussed, the benefits to people in other countries of our immigration policy is mostly ignored in public debate. But people in other countries, who want to come here, are nearly by definition worse off than we are! That's the most compelling reason to want to come here. You can talk about the immigrants who are here, whether legally or illegally, but it's practically unheard of in mainstream politics to consider what we owe to those people whose lives could be vastly improved (indeed, some of whose lives could be saved) by moving here. This is outrageous.
Another form of bias, perhaps even more controversial, is bias against criminals. I think we likely have good justification for punishing criminals. But this is a very different from the view that it is a good that criminals are punished and suffer. I think there is something deeply regrettable about the fact that criminals have to be made to suffer, even though we have good reason for it. We should therefore go out of our way to make sure they do not suffer excessively, and we should offer them tools for re-entry to society. I think our current incarceration system is a huge site of enormous injustice, but even some of those who might agree to that statement still don't feel a great urgency behind it. It's so easy to forget about the criminals, because we just assume that they deserve what they get. I don't believe it's true that people can deserve bad things to happen to them (though again, we might have justification for a system of punishment), but even if they did, it's even more difficult to believe that they deserve what incarceration often provides.
Each one of these kinds of biases demands it's own arguments, and requires a lot of work to even try to begin to dismantle. There are certainly more than I discussed here, and there are likely some that I'm not aware that I ascribe to. I've been focusing on speciesism, for many reasons, but I think it's important to understand and oppose all the forms of prejudice we can. It's a lot of work, but it's what we have to do.
One of the features of this case that contributes to my confidence in the indefensible nature of speciesism is structural similarities it shares with other forms of bias, such as racism and sexism. Most intelligent people in my culture at least purportedly reject racial and sex discrimination, but this has not always been so. Given the racist and sexist history of the world, we should not be surprised to find other unjustified biases that are still widely accepted, and this thought in part led me to my own investigation of the validity of a human/animal ethical divide.
But there are other unjustified biases that exist that still command widespread acceptance, and are not the subjects of well-publicized advocacy. One that I've been thinking about more recently is the extent to which many (if not most) people are quite nationalistic. For example, as I've discussed, the benefits to people in other countries of our immigration policy is mostly ignored in public debate. But people in other countries, who want to come here, are nearly by definition worse off than we are! That's the most compelling reason to want to come here. You can talk about the immigrants who are here, whether legally or illegally, but it's practically unheard of in mainstream politics to consider what we owe to those people whose lives could be vastly improved (indeed, some of whose lives could be saved) by moving here. This is outrageous.
Another form of bias, perhaps even more controversial, is bias against criminals. I think we likely have good justification for punishing criminals. But this is a very different from the view that it is a good that criminals are punished and suffer. I think there is something deeply regrettable about the fact that criminals have to be made to suffer, even though we have good reason for it. We should therefore go out of our way to make sure they do not suffer excessively, and we should offer them tools for re-entry to society. I think our current incarceration system is a huge site of enormous injustice, but even some of those who might agree to that statement still don't feel a great urgency behind it. It's so easy to forget about the criminals, because we just assume that they deserve what they get. I don't believe it's true that people can deserve bad things to happen to them (though again, we might have justification for a system of punishment), but even if they did, it's even more difficult to believe that they deserve what incarceration often provides.
Each one of these kinds of biases demands it's own arguments, and requires a lot of work to even try to begin to dismantle. There are certainly more than I discussed here, and there are likely some that I'm not aware that I ascribe to. I've been focusing on speciesism, for many reasons, but I think it's important to understand and oppose all the forms of prejudice we can. It's a lot of work, but it's what we have to do.
Monday, March 4, 2013
The Appeal of Consequentialism
I am inspired by many consequentialists and utilitarians. For example, I think the staff at GiveWell do really interesting work. If we want to fulfill our obligations to the worst off, we should very critically examine the aid organizations that purport to use our money well in providing services. GiveWell does an excellent job of promoting well-researched methods of providing aid done by programs who can effectively use large inflows of capital. This is good and important work that people of a utilitarian or consequential mindset (like those who started GiveWell and many of its supporters) seem very skilled at doing.
I find it to be a failure of many non-consequentialist philosophers that, though their theories would demand strong levels of support for meaningful philanthropic work, they often fail to sufficiently support this kind of action. Many are reluctant to give specific prescriptions of how individuals can better meet their moral obligations, which to me comes close to rendering moral philosophy pointless. (Gary Francione is a particularly important exception to this trend.)
Nonetheless, I find non-consequentialist moral theories compelling, and think there are many things wrong with consequentialist or untilitarian moral theories. Despite my (admittedly anecdotal) observations about the actions of adherents to the different theories, I think there are very good reasons to reject consequentialist moral theories, which I've discussed in brief previously (also here and here.)
But if the implications of consequentialism are implausible, as I argue, why do people believe in it? Well, as I've been discussing, there are often good reasons to accept conclusions that at first seem implausible. When confronted with a surprising consequence of a theory, there are a few ways of responding.
First, you might be facing a dilemma. There might be an implication of a particular theory that is implausible, but denying that theory as a whole has even less implausible implications. We should in these cases accept the most plausible alternative.
Another way to respond without appeal to prima facie plausibility judgments is to show that the reason a given implication appears implausible is because we are have an unjustified bias against what is implied. This is how my argument against speciesism works. Obviously, to many people it is implausible that animals should be granted fundamental rights. However, if speciesism is a bias just as sexism and racism are, it's no wonder that animal rights are counter-intuitive. We should expect overcoming such a pervasive bias to lead us to conclusions that contradict deeply-held beliefs we held previously.
So many consequentialists see the supposedly "implausible" implications of their view as the result of our unjustified bias towards consequentialist morality. As they might rightly point out, our minds are infused with a variety of biases and predispositions towards fallacious inferences, it's hardly surprising we would intuit wrongly about some moral issues.
Just as I see the fall of speciesist prejudice as continuing a history of the (one can hope) fall of sexism and racism, a consequentialist might similarly see non-consequentialist judgments going the way of the belief that the earth is flat, or that the phase of the moon controls behavior. A bias against consequentialist reasoning is not going to function like racial bias, but something more akin to psychological effects such as confirmation bias. Some ways in which we are predisposed to think are fallacious. There might be any number of reasons why we are predisposed to think them, but once we have a good theory to sort out the fact from the fallacy, we might as well jettison whatever we got wrong.
The problem with this line of argument in favor of consequentialism is that there is not good enough reason to believe that, for example, the principle of utility is the fundamental principle of morality. It may look alright, at first glance, that we should maximize happiness for the greatest number, but it's obvious enough that other things matter as well. For example, I think certain forms are inequality are inherently bad, even if many people are made very happy by them. It's conceivable to me that the greatest happiness for the greatest number could involve some insidious inequality that would make me strongly loathe such an outcome. Perhaps this is just some irrational bias of mine, but who says? Why isn't feverish devotion to the utility principle the unjustified bias?
So you might say the utility principle isn't inherently more probable than a theory that has a greater variety of values in it, such as equality. But why shouldn't we want to find some maximally optimum balance of equality and happiness (and perhaps some other values)? Well, certain forms of this type of consequentialist theory can be compelling, but my post against the maximization of friendship is a pretty good rejoinder to these. Some important values do not appear amenable to maximizing treatment. And again, why should we think of a maximizing moral theory as inherently more appealing than a theory that can make sense of our common views on friendship?
One reason that I think holds some sway over many consequentialists is the relative simplicity of their theories. If consequences are what matter, it's very clear how to choose the right thing. The tricky part is adding up the different probabilities of different outcomes, assigning values to different features of the situation, and weighing these all against each other. But as I noted at the beginning of the post, many utilitarians are very good at doing all this, and do an admirable (!) amount of good in so doing. It's a lot messier if there are attitudes of respect to consider, and deontic contraints, distinctions between killing and letting die, etc. There are likely to be some meta-ethical concerns about the truth value of non-consequentialist theories, which would have to apply to more than just features of the natural world. (I'll pursue this topic later.) Many people appreciate the beauty of a simplified theory.
If we have good reason for doubting that there is such a simplified theory, then another example from the history of thought comes to mind. When Newton discovered the laws of motion, they were truly revolutionary and brilliant, and they had fantastic predictive powers. One can imagine getting very excited about such a genuinely elegant theory that held together so well and explained so much. It took Einstein and a lot more work to discover that around the edges, the theory didn't explain everything, and on certain scales was not as accurate as had been thought.
Sometimes theories have to be intricate and complex to explain all the features of the world that we encounter. Simplicity can be a virtue of theories, but it can also lead to obfuscation. Perhaps it would be easier to live in a simpler landscape, but I certainly enjoy the process of discovery.
I find it to be a failure of many non-consequentialist philosophers that, though their theories would demand strong levels of support for meaningful philanthropic work, they often fail to sufficiently support this kind of action. Many are reluctant to give specific prescriptions of how individuals can better meet their moral obligations, which to me comes close to rendering moral philosophy pointless. (Gary Francione is a particularly important exception to this trend.)
Nonetheless, I find non-consequentialist moral theories compelling, and think there are many things wrong with consequentialist or untilitarian moral theories. Despite my (admittedly anecdotal) observations about the actions of adherents to the different theories, I think there are very good reasons to reject consequentialist moral theories, which I've discussed in brief previously (also here and here.)
But if the implications of consequentialism are implausible, as I argue, why do people believe in it? Well, as I've been discussing, there are often good reasons to accept conclusions that at first seem implausible. When confronted with a surprising consequence of a theory, there are a few ways of responding.
First, you might be facing a dilemma. There might be an implication of a particular theory that is implausible, but denying that theory as a whole has even less implausible implications. We should in these cases accept the most plausible alternative.
Another way to respond without appeal to prima facie plausibility judgments is to show that the reason a given implication appears implausible is because we are have an unjustified bias against what is implied. This is how my argument against speciesism works. Obviously, to many people it is implausible that animals should be granted fundamental rights. However, if speciesism is a bias just as sexism and racism are, it's no wonder that animal rights are counter-intuitive. We should expect overcoming such a pervasive bias to lead us to conclusions that contradict deeply-held beliefs we held previously.
So many consequentialists see the supposedly "implausible" implications of their view as the result of our unjustified bias towards consequentialist morality. As they might rightly point out, our minds are infused with a variety of biases and predispositions towards fallacious inferences, it's hardly surprising we would intuit wrongly about some moral issues.
Just as I see the fall of speciesist prejudice as continuing a history of the (one can hope) fall of sexism and racism, a consequentialist might similarly see non-consequentialist judgments going the way of the belief that the earth is flat, or that the phase of the moon controls behavior. A bias against consequentialist reasoning is not going to function like racial bias, but something more akin to psychological effects such as confirmation bias. Some ways in which we are predisposed to think are fallacious. There might be any number of reasons why we are predisposed to think them, but once we have a good theory to sort out the fact from the fallacy, we might as well jettison whatever we got wrong.
The problem with this line of argument in favor of consequentialism is that there is not good enough reason to believe that, for example, the principle of utility is the fundamental principle of morality. It may look alright, at first glance, that we should maximize happiness for the greatest number, but it's obvious enough that other things matter as well. For example, I think certain forms are inequality are inherently bad, even if many people are made very happy by them. It's conceivable to me that the greatest happiness for the greatest number could involve some insidious inequality that would make me strongly loathe such an outcome. Perhaps this is just some irrational bias of mine, but who says? Why isn't feverish devotion to the utility principle the unjustified bias?
So you might say the utility principle isn't inherently more probable than a theory that has a greater variety of values in it, such as equality. But why shouldn't we want to find some maximally optimum balance of equality and happiness (and perhaps some other values)? Well, certain forms of this type of consequentialist theory can be compelling, but my post against the maximization of friendship is a pretty good rejoinder to these. Some important values do not appear amenable to maximizing treatment. And again, why should we think of a maximizing moral theory as inherently more appealing than a theory that can make sense of our common views on friendship?
One reason that I think holds some sway over many consequentialists is the relative simplicity of their theories. If consequences are what matter, it's very clear how to choose the right thing. The tricky part is adding up the different probabilities of different outcomes, assigning values to different features of the situation, and weighing these all against each other. But as I noted at the beginning of the post, many utilitarians are very good at doing all this, and do an admirable (!) amount of good in so doing. It's a lot messier if there are attitudes of respect to consider, and deontic contraints, distinctions between killing and letting die, etc. There are likely to be some meta-ethical concerns about the truth value of non-consequentialist theories, which would have to apply to more than just features of the natural world. (I'll pursue this topic later.) Many people appreciate the beauty of a simplified theory.
If we have good reason for doubting that there is such a simplified theory, then another example from the history of thought comes to mind. When Newton discovered the laws of motion, they were truly revolutionary and brilliant, and they had fantastic predictive powers. One can imagine getting very excited about such a genuinely elegant theory that held together so well and explained so much. It took Einstein and a lot more work to discover that around the edges, the theory didn't explain everything, and on certain scales was not as accurate as had been thought.
Sometimes theories have to be intricate and complex to explain all the features of the world that we encounter. Simplicity can be a virtue of theories, but it can also lead to obfuscation. Perhaps it would be easier to live in a simpler landscape, but I certainly enjoy the process of discovery.
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