Applying an Ethical Theory

6.1 How Should One Act?

Jeremy Bentham is associated with the founding of utilitarianism, which states that given a choice between two acts, the one that creates greater happiness for the greatest number of people should be chosen.

Ethics, or moral philosophy, investigates how we can evaluate our behavior in terms of right and wrong, good and bad—in other words, how we determine what we should do, what we should not do, and how to tell the difference. After looking at the three classical ethical views that philosophers have presented and some of the problems with these theories, we will explore some alternative approaches.

Utilitarianism

Suppose you and five of your friends are hanging out one night and decide to order a pizza. You are all equally hungry and decide to order two pizzas, each of which has six slices. Thus, when the pizzas are delivered, it is pretty easy to determine how to divide the pizzas in a way that is the fairest: Everyone gets two slices. It may be that one person wanted a third slice, and someone else may have only wanted one. Yet without knowing anything else, this arrangement, more than any other, will be the most beneficial to the greatest number of people.

This simple example demonstrates the basic notion at the heart of the ethical doctrine known as utilitarianism. Often associated with the philosophers Jeremy Bentham (1748–1822) and John Stuart Mill, utilitarianism offers a very straightforward and direct way to evaluate behavior. When given a choice between two acts, utilitarianism states that the act that should be chosen is the one that creates the greatest amount of happiness for the greatest number of people. Philosophers (and economists) often use the term utility to express this quality. Utility is the satisfaction one gets from something. For instance, if you like chocolate ice cream more than vanilla ice cream, we can say that chocolate ice cream has a higher utility for you, relative to vanilla ice cream. In theory, at least, each of us can rank all of our choices according to a scale that indicates our relative preferences. Some philosophers, such as Bentham, even attempted to assign numbers to these preferences. If someone likes chocolate ice cream five times as much as vanilla ice cream, that person would presumably be willing to accept five vanilla ice cream cones as a substitute for one chocolate ice cream cone. It should also be noted that utility is regarded in terms of net utility: The correct moral choice is that which generates the greatest good and also minimizes unhappiness.

Because utilitarianism considers an act's consequences in assessing its morality, utilitarianism is also regarded as a consequentialist theory. The basic idea in consequentialism is to consider the consequences that will result from the choices one confronts: If the consequences of one act produce the greatest net good—or the highest utility—for the greatest number of people, this is the act one should carry out. Many people find this to be a rather obvious ethical viewpoint; clearly if we had decided to give all the pizza slices to just three people and no slices to the other three, this would seem rather unfair. It should also be clear that utilitarianism offers an approach to scenarios other than distributing pizza and ice cream. Imagine Mary really loves to dance, but she does not get to go dancing very often. Mary has three children, with whom she enjoys spending time and who enjoy spending time with her. One night she is given the option of staying home and spending time with her children or going dancing. What should she do? The utilitarian might argue that, on the one hand, the pleasure Mary gets from dancing is greater than staying with her children. Yet on the other hand, her children will receive great pleasure if she does not go dancing. Therefore, the "utility calculation" is that the net happiness of Mary and her three children will be higher if she stays home, even though Mary's individual happiness might be slightly lower than it would have been if she had chosen to go dancing.

Utility is often described in terms of pleasure, which can be problematic for utilitarianism. Imagine someone finds pleasure in playing video games and drinking beer all day long. Given a choice between, say, helping out in a homeless shelter or drinking and playing the newest video game, a person may well choose the latter, which suggests to some that utilitarianism has no way to distinguish between different kinds of pleasures. Presumably, we want our theory to be able to make a distinction between hedonistic and nobler pleasures. Mill saw this as a potential problem and insisted that pleasure should be considered not just in terms of quantity but also quality: that certain kinds of pleasures, or certain ways of satisfying desires, are simply better than others. A pig may be happy rolling around in the mud and eating garbage, but Mill insisted that people who take that approach to pleasure fail to develop their potential as human beings (relative to pigs, at least). According to Mill, it is better to be a dissatisfied Socrates than a satisfied pig. This is not to say that one should always choose something less pleasurable; rather, it is simply an indication that pleasures themselves can, or perhaps should, be distinguished from each other. It is not always easy to say that one pleasure is "superior" to another, and certainly people have long argued about this issue. However, these kinds of examples indicate a problem utilitarianism confronts if we evaluate acts solely in terms of their pleasurable consequences (Mill, 1909).

Many people find utilitarianism to be an easy and useful approach to making ethical decisions. When distributing goods, services, or even time, it would seem to be a "no-brainer" to choose the option that would satisfy or please as many people as possible, compared to any other available choice. However, philosophers have raised a number of problems in response to utilitarianism, which may make it a less plausible ethical theory than it first appears.

Problems With Utilitarianism

Utilitarianism has what philosophers call an intuitive appeal: It seems to be relatively obvious, and just plain common sense, to evaluate our actions based on the results those actions produce. If all we know about a situation is that four kids in a sandbox have one toy, the best option would be for the children to share that toy, even if each child is quite sure he or she would get the most pleasure from playing with it alone.

However, many philosophers have objected to utilitarianism, and for a number of reasons. As we have seen, distinguishing different kinds of pleasures from each other can be difficult. Does utilitarianism have any way to address the situation of a person who gets pleasure from staring at the wall or doing something else that most people would find quite unpleasant (something often called masochism)? Mill (1863) suggests there are "higher" or "more refined" pleasures and that they should be preferred, but who is to say which is a "higher" pleasure? Is reading poetry somehow better than watching soap operas? What if someone gains pleasure by sleeping all the time or hitting his thumb over and over with a hammer?

More significant objections to utilitarianism have been posed on the basis of calculating the outcome, or consequences, of a choice. Suppose you are on a cruise ship that catches fire; you and 19 others are lucky enough to survive on a lifeboat. There is enough water to last for a week or more, but you have no food and do not know whether you will be rescued. Everyone is aware of how grim the future looks; as the boat drifts, everyone gets hungrier. It becomes apparent that everyone is going to die unless your group finds food. The utilitarian in the group poses the following options: All 20 people die, or 19 people live if one person is killed and eaten! To justify his position, he cites historical examples of similar cases in which cannibalism helped the majority survive. However, while this scenario may appear to result in the greatest good for the greatest number, do we really want an ethical theory that not only allows cannibalism, but actually endorses it as the fairest and most ethical decision?

Few of us are likely to experience a situation this extreme, but we may find ourselves in situations where the basic utilitarian calculation actually leads to results that are very unfair and unjust. This is particularly threatening anytime individuals find themselves in a minority, whether because of their sex, race, ethnicity, religion, sexual orientation, or any of the other ways in which society categorizes people. For example, suppose a local grade school must decide if it should use taxpayer money to build ramps to make the building accessible to students in wheelchairs. This tax will likely decrease the pleasure of each taxpayer and may only be used by a few individuals throughout the year. In this way it would result in a net utility that would favor a decision not to build the ramps. Would you consider this a fair outcome?

Great Ideas: The Trolley Problem

A very famous challenge to our ethical intuitions, originated by Philippa Foot, is easy to describe but more problematic to solve. In Foot's 1967 essay "The Problem of Abortion and the Doctrine of the Double Effect," she posed the following scenario known as the trolley problem:

Imagine a runaway trolley hurtling toward five workers on the track. The driver must choose between staying the course, which would result in the death of the five workers, or divert the trolley to a spur where just one worker on the track would be killed. Most would say that diverting the trolley to save five lives while killing only one would be the better of the two options.

Now imagine a similar scenario: What if a doctor could save the lives of five people who needed organ donations by killing one patient and distributing his organs? Would that be considered a moral act? If not, why would it be moral to kill the one track worker, but not the one patient? There are many variations on this basic scenario, which has generated a great deal of debate and discussion.

Tyranny of the Majority

Dating as far back as Plato, political philosophers have often cited the tyranny of the majority, which is when the interests of the majority are placed above the interests of the minority, and to their detriment. American history is littered with such stories, whether the minority groups be African Americans, Native Americans, Jews, homosexuals, or many others. In the original, Protestant-dominated colonies, for example, Roman Catholics were not allowed to vote or hold public office. Despite the obvious injustice, this would seem to fit the utilitarian calculation, because Catholics were a minority at that time. This kind of calculation has been used to justify a wide range of policies that seem wrong, from slavery to refusing to sell houses in certain neighborhoods to ethnic and racial minorities. Interestingly, women have also suffered for similar reasons on the basis of this kind of calculation, despite the fact that they actually make up the majority of the population.

Mill's Response

John Stuart Mill and other utilitarians recognized the flaws in an ethical system that had such unethical and oppressive results. One popular way of addressing these flaws has been to distinguish between act utilitarianism and rule utilitarianism. Act utilitarianism simply involves a judgment of the act's consequences: Given a set of choices, which act generates the greatest net good for the greatest number? Rule utilitarianism, on the other hand, involves an evaluation of the types of acts involved and proposes that, when followed as a general rule, the act should produce the greatest net good, or the greatest amount of happiness, for the greatest number.

Utilitarianism

Utilitarianism can lead to unintended consequences that bring upon more suffering.

Consider the following example: Bob is taking an important physics test that he needs to pass to get into medical school. He considers the possibility that if he cheats "successfully," he gains a great deal and thus achieves his greatest happiness, or "maximizes his utility" (we will ignore any feelings of guilt Bob may have). The act utilitarian would suggest that, in this case, cheating produces the greatest amount of good. The rule utilitarian would offer a different analysis. Bob may gain the most by cheating, but in general, we could not promote the rule that one should cheat. If we endorse a rule that says it is okay to cheat to get into medical school, then the rest of society would be considerably less confident that physicians were trustworthy and deserved their credentials. This would fail to generate the greatest good for the greatest number; therefore, the rule utilitarian would tell Bob not to cheat.

Rule utilitarianism seems to have a better chance of dealing with some of the more obvious objections we have seen, although it is not entirely clear whether it can successfully treat the problem of a minority being oppressed by a majority. Mill (1909) seemed to advocate a system of "proportionate representation," so minorities would be at least represented, but it is not clear how this solves the problem. Other objections have also been raised against both act and rule utilitarianism. For instance, when measuring pleasure, or utility, what time frame should be used: days, years, decades? Who is included in the idea of the "greatest number"—our family, our community, our country, our planet? How can one compare one person's amount of pleasure with another person's? Can we really even measure pleasure, or happiness, or utility in a way that allows us to make these utilitarian calculations?

These are difficult questions to answer, and many philosophers have seen this as a reason to look elsewhere for a moral theory, one that does not evaluate acts in terms of consequences and does not measure such things as happiness and utility. The most famous alternative to utilitarianism is deontology, which is a non-consequentialist theory.

Deontology

Deontological ethics is usually associated with the philosopher Immanuel Kant. Deontology comes from the Greek word for "obligation" (or "duty"). In contrast to consequentialist theories, Kant, and more generally the deontologist, ignores an act's consequences when evaluating whether it is a good, bad, or morally neutral act. It is important to remember that deontologists do not deny that acts have consequences; their point is that those consequences should not play a role in evaluating the act's morality. Rather, deontological ethics focuses on the will of the person acting, the person's intention in carrying out the act, and particularly, the rule according to which the act is carried out. Deontology focuses on the duties and obligations one has in carrying out actions rather than on the consequences of those actions.

In his Critique of Practical Reason, Kant (1997) claimed that certain kinds of rules established what he called a categorical imperative. This is a requirement or demand (imperative), and it has no exceptions (it is categorical). We might contrast this kind of imperative with what Kant calls a hypothetical imperative, which is illustrated by supposing you are hungry and decide to eat something; in this case the action (eating) is designed to achieve a goal (making you less hungry). Yet there is no obligation or demand that you eat; it is just what you do in this specific situation. Similarly, if you want to pass a course, a hypothetical imperative might tell you to study. In short, if someone adopts a certain goal, then actions that help achieve that goal are to be adopted. The categorical imperative, on the other hand, has no exceptions and is something one must do. As part of the categorical imperative, Kant assumes that being a moral person is a requirement; it is not merely a goal people may choose to strive for Kant offers several versions of the categorical imperative. We will look at the first two, which will give us a rough idea of what kind of rule it is.

Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time want that it should become a universal law. That is, if you choose to do something, would you desire that everyone in that same circumstance do exactly the same thing?

Act in such a way that you treat humanity, whether in your own person or in the person of any other, always at the same time as an end and never merely as a means to an end. In other words, all people—including you—deserve respect. It would always be wrong to treat people as objects, or as a way of achieving some goal, or in another way that does not show respect. (Kant 1997, 1998)

These rules may sound similar to that very famous and old Golden Rule: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." The Golden Rule can be found in many different civilizations, beginning with the ancient Egyptians and the ancient Greeks, as well as in many religions, including Buddhism, Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. Yet there is a crucial distinction that Kant notes between the Golden Rule and the categorical imperative. Kant insists that rational agents should act in such a way that the rule they adopt can be followed universally, or by all rational agents. Otherwise, someone who might enjoy pain (a masochist) or enjoys inflicting pain (a sadist) might well be following the Golden Rule by treating others as he or she would like to be treated.

Despite the distinction, there are many circumstances in which the categorical imperative and the Golden Rule lead to similar results. You do not want to be treated by others as some kind of "thing," so you yourself should not treat others that way. This last claim is essentially what Kant provides as the second version of the categorical imperative.

As we have seen, a simple utilitarian calculation has an intuitive appeal in that it seems fairly obvious to evaluate an act in terms of whether it produces the greatest net good for the greatest number. An indication that universal rules of behavior have their own intuitive appeal is borne out by the number of parents who use such rules with their children. For example, suppose a mother observes her daughter not sharing a toy with several other children; she is likely to take her daughter aside and ask, "How would you like it if no one shared toys with you?" The daughter, of course, would not like it, and—the mother hopes—the little girl will begin to understand that if she does not like to be treated in a certain way, then she should not treat others in that way. This question—"How would you like it if others treated you that way?"—is probably something all of us have heard before and is indicative of how familiar we are with this version of deontological ethics.

Despite their differences, utilitarianism and deontology often come to the same conclusion, but from alternate directions. In the example of a group of children having one toy among them, the utilitarian would argue that the greatest net good for the greatest number is achieved by sharing the toy. The deontologist, on the other hand, would argue that people should treat others with the same respect they expect to be given, and that is best achieved by sharing the toy. They both conclude that the children should share, but one draws this conclusion by looking at the results, whereas the other draws the same conclusion by looking at the rule that should be followed. At the same time, other actions may generate conflicts between the two perspectives. For instance, a deontologist may adopt as the universal rule "Never steal." Yet imagine a family that has no food; the deontologist may be forced to conclude that it would be wrong for the father to steal food to feed his family. The utilitarian, in contrast, calculates that the unhappiness of the person from whom the food was stolen is not as great as the happiness achieved by the family getting food. Thus, the utilitarian may well argue that in this case stealing is not wrong because it produces the greatest good for the greatest number.

Both utilitarianism and deontology have certain advantages. Utilitarian calculations are, at least at first glance, fairly easy to devise and provide a quick way to evaluate the moral worth of an act. Deontology, on the other hand, has the appeal of being easily explained and develops rules that seem to make sense and are also widely applied. We have already seen that utilitarianism confronts certain problems that expose how it may lead to results that appear unfair and unjust; we can now look at some similar kinds of problems that face the deontologist.

Problems With Deontology

Traditionally, critics of deontology have focused on two specific but related issues. First, deontology—particularly the Kantian version—seems too sterile and fails to capture some of the complex issues that arise when we confront ethical problems in real life. The second issue (which may be a result of the first) is that deontology may require one to act in a way that seems obviously wrong and unethical. As we saw with utilitarianism, any ethical theory that leads to potentially unethical results is problematic.

We have seen the best known versions of Kant's categorical imperative: That is, you should never treat others only as a means to achieve your goals, and you should only do something if everyone in that same situation would act the same way. The repeated use of the word should indicates these are normative demands, or moral claims.

In some scenarios, the right course of action seems obvious. Just because you are late for a movie, you should not run over someone with your car on your way to the theater. No one in a similar situation should do so either. Following the Golden Rule would lead to the same result; after all, you would not want to be run over by someone rushing to get to the movies, so you should not run over someone to do so. Yet are there situations in which these kinds of rules result in actions that are wrong or even immoral?

The most famous objection to the deontologist's approach—specifically Kant's—is the problem posed by lying. Lying is, of course, intentionally misleading someone to think something is true when it is false, or false when it is true. Children are taught at an early age never to lie, and most moral systems prohibit or at least discourage lying. Often, the Ninth Commandment given in the book of Exodus, "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour" (Exodus 20:16), is interpreted to mean that lying is always wrong. Lying also seems to be a clear example of the categorical imperative: To lie to someone is to treat them with insufficient respect as a human being, and since we presumably do not want to be lied to, we should not lie to others.

Still, people lie to each other quite a lot, and often to achieve goals that seem to be appropriate and moral (or at least not immoral). Consider the following four examples:

A husband buys a new shirt that he likes very much and asks his wife if it makes him look fat. In truth, the shirt does make him look fat. Should the wife tell her husband the truth? (The wife might avoid lying by not answering, but this may itself indicate her opinion.)

Dan and his friends are throwing an elaborate surprise party for Jody. Jody gets suspicious and asks Dan, "Are you throwing me a surprise party?" If Dan tells the truth, the surprise party is ruined, and all their efforts will have been wasted. Should Dan lie to Jody?

Parents in the United States often tell their children made-up stories, not just about a jolly fat man who brings them presents at Christmastime, but also about a rabbit that brings candy at Easter and even a fairy who "buys" the teeth they have lost. Should parents always tell their children the truth about Santa Claus, the Easter bunny, and the tooth fairy?

Sarah comes to your door and asks you to hide her from an ax-wielding stalker. You agree without hesitation. Shortly thereafter, a wild-eyed man, holding an ax, asks you if you have hidden Sarah. Do you tell him the truth? (It is important to note that you are not being threatened; the man holding the ax asks about Sarah in a very polite and respectful manner.)

We started with what seemed to be a good, widely accepted rule: "Never lie." Yet the preceding examples illustrate the complexity of applying this rule. Do the people who lie in the above examples act immorally? The wife does not want to make her husband feel bad; Dan wants to make sure Jody enjoys her surprise; parents want their children to be captivated by Santa Claus and provide incentive for good behavior; and lying to an ax-wielding stalker might save Sarah's life.

Kant's stern rule about never lying, then, seems to force everyone in the above cases to do something they would prefer not to do. Perhaps the husband, Jody, the children, and the stalker would prefer to be lied to? One might tinker with Kant's rule, or suggest that one should not ask questions unless one expects to be told the truth. One might also say that children are special cases and have not reached the age where we are always honest with them. Yet this logic results in a rule that is even more convoluted: "Never lie," morphs into something like, "Never lie to those over a certain age, and hope no one asks you questions they really would prefer not be answered truthfully." Even this variation on the rule may be problematic; we can probably think of examples where lying seems to be the right thing to do. Formulating a rule that allows for those examples is a difficult task.

We have seen the advantages of utilitarianism and deontology, as well as some of their problems. One other classical, or traditional, theory remains; it does not look at the consequences of our acts (as in utilitarianism, or consequentialism) or at the acts themselves and the rules that guide those acts (as in deontology, or non-consequentialism). Rather, it looks at the character of the person acting. This is a theory known as virtue ethics.

Virtue Ethics

Virtue ethics is an approach to moral and ethical questions that focuses on a person's character. Some discussion of this concept can be found in the writings of Plato, as well as in the teachings of Chinese philosophers such as Confucius (551–479 BCE). However, the classic conception of virtue ethics in Western philosophy is attributed to Aristotle. For Aristotle, the virtuous person, or the person of virtuous character, is someone who has admirable characteristics and displays them in a way that is balanced and harmonious. This person seeks to have an ideal character, and the virtues that contribute to this goal will all be appropriately related to each other. Ultimately, the person with practical or moral wisdom—what Aristotle calls phronesis—will have the appropriate virtues, will know how to use them, and will possess moral excellence. Such a person will achieve the specific kind of happiness Aristotle describes as human flourishing.

Some of these virtues are traditional characteristics that we still use to describe a good, moral, or virtuous person, including courage, generosity, and being a good friend. According to Aristotle, a person may have too little courage, which we would call cowardice. Another person may have too much courage, resulting in rash behavior. A soldier who runs from the field of battle when first confronting the enemy might not have enough courage, whereas the soldier who runs straight into machine-gun fire may have too much. Aristotle insists that the virtuous person will have the right amount of courage and will aim at what he calls the golden mean between having too little and having too much of a given characteristic. Thus, someone who displays little generosity will fall on one end of the spectrum (miserly); someone who is much too generous will fall on the opposite end (wasteful); and a moderately generous person falls in the middle and is virtuous. The person who has the requisite moral wisdom, or phronesis, will know how to act in a given situation, and those acts will be in harmony with the other virtues that make up this person's character.

Aristotle also describes two virtues that are a bit more complex. One of these he calls temperance, or sophrosunë (Aristotle, 2002). A temperate person is moderate and has self-control. This person is able to control his or her emotions through reason and does not indulge in the extreme. When it comes to drinking wine, the intemperate person will drink too much of it, whereas the person who rejects it entirely, in spite of finding it enjoyable, is regarded as insensible. Temperance, then, is a middle ground between the two excesses of insensibility and intemperance.

Aristotle also describes a virtue he calls magnanimity, which is how we see ourselves and how we are regarded by others (Aristotle, 2002). This can involve the respect others give us and also the kinds of rewards and honors we can receive. Along with justice, Aristotle considered this to be the highest virtue. Magnanimity is translated from the Greek word megalopsuchia, which literally means "great soul" or "great mind." This is a person who represents excellence, is worthy of being honored by others, and knows that he or she is worthy. Neither arrogant nor falsely modest, the virtuous person demonstrates magnanimity, and as a virtue, it is possessed in a reasonable amount. People who think too highly of themselves or who think they deserve more recognition than they actually do are considered vain. On the other hand, those who believe they deserve no recognition or appreciation when the opposite is likely true have too little magnanimity, a characteristic Aristotle calls "low-minded." We might call such a person too self-effacing, or falsely modest. The truly magnanimous person has this virtue in its proper proportion; such a person will be appropriately modest while appropriately proud of his or her accomplishments.

To see how virtues might interact with and balance against one another, consider the following example. Suppose Nick likes to go to parties, but he drinks too much and acts as if he is everyone's best friend. One night a fight breaks out, and Nick tries to stop it by fighting with everyone involved in the original fight. Nick is unable to keep his desires in check by practical reason; does not live in accordance with the golden mean, and he indulges in excess. In contrast, Ted never goes to parties; he stays home alone and never has any fun. Once, when he saw someone steal an elderly woman's purse, he ran in the opposite direction. Ted also does not have his desires by reason, does not live in accordance with the golden mean, and disproportionately deprives himself. Neither Nick nor Ted would qualify as having a virtuous character. Jennifer, on the other hand, is a good friend; she is courageous; she is modest but takes pride in what she does and accepts the legitimate praise of others; and she is generous, honest, and moderate. She has what the Greeks called eudaimonia, which can be translated in a variety of ways, including happiness, flourishing, and well-being. Aristotle would say that because Jennifer's virtues are in their proper balance and proportion, she has eudaimonia.

It is easy to get lost in Aristotle's technical vocabulary, but his basic point is that the person who makes the right moral choices, or behaves ethically, is a virtuous person and is the kind of person we admire for that reason. We object to those who are deficient in one or more of the characteristics we have mentioned, but we also object to those who display one or more of these attributes excessively. The person who has eudaimonia is the person who has acquired the correct conception of the virtues, individually and as a whole, and as such, offers us an example of what kinds of moral choices should be made. We may not actually know of such a person, and indeed such a person may not actually exist. However, the conception of such a virtuous person helps us examine our own choices and behavior to see where we are doing the right thing and where we may need improvement.

As is often the case with ethical theories, virtue ethics initially sounds clear, obvious, and easy to apply. But just as challenges exist to both utilitarianism and deontology, certain problems arise for proponents of virtue ethics.

Problems With Virtue Ethics

Virtue ethics differs from utilitarianism and deontology in that it examines not what a person does, but what kind of character he or she has. In addition to the virtues, this theory provides us with a spectrum on which to moderate our own behavior, as well as an ideal for which to strive. Applying these notions in real-world examples is more difficult than it would initially appear, however.

For example, consider one of Aristotle's specific virtues, courage. While it is easy to imagine plenty of scenarios in which someone has an excess of courage or a lack of sufficient courage, it is difficult to determine what the appropriate amount of courage would be for more nuanced situations. Imagine Steve is a prisoner of war, kept in very brutal conditions with a number of his fellow soldiers. He knows he has a fairly good chance of escaping, but if he is caught, the guards will torture and execute him. He also knows that if a prisoner successfully escapes, the guards will choose another prisoner at random, torture him, and then execute him. To escape under these conditions requires a certain degree of courage; but choosing not to escape also requires some courage. Under these circumstances, how should Steve be appropriately courageous? It is not clear that there is a golden mean to which Steve can appeal, and it is therefore not clear which, if either, of the possible actions is virtuous. In this specific case then, it seems that virtue ethics lacks sufficient guidance for how to act. Similar problems confront the other virtues. Is there an "appropriate amount" of lying one should do in order to be virtuous? Should one be willing to break some promises but keep others? Even if we think there may be solutions to various individual ethical dilemmas, virtue ethics seems to fail to offer the kind of general solution offered by utilitarianism and deontology.

Another problem with virtue ethics is that Aristotle and many virtue ethicists seem to think that certain terms are well understood and that everyone shares the same general conception of the virtues. But do we? We may think that friendship, for example, is universally understood. Yet imagine Carl, who thinks of himself as a very good friend to Charles and Kate, the couple that lives next door. Carl discovers that Charles has been having an affair with Kate's best friend. Presumably, friends tell each other the truth, but friends also do not want to see their friends hurt, their marriages broken, and so on. It is not at all clear what Carl should do in this case. More importantly, people would likely disagree over what Carl should do if he is actually to be a good friend. Thus, we all may not share the same general conception of "friendship." Such problems multiply because each virtue will confront this kind of problem and will encounter further problems upon trying to determine the appropriate amount of each virtue and how they should be balanced with each other. It is for this reason that some philosophers have rejected virtue ethics entirely. For example, in his text After Virtue, Alasdair MacIntyre (2007) dismisses the concept and possibly even the existence of virtues.

One other traditional problem for virtue ethics is that of relativity, or when one culture views an act as a virtue but another regards that very same act as a vice. Consider two communities, A and Z. A is a culture of warriors that insists its members be fierce and respond violently to threats. Z is a culture of pacifists that insists its members always "turn the other cheek" and respond to threats with nonviolence and negotiation. A group of outsiders, X, sets up camp outside of both A's and Z's land. X appears to have a great number of weapons and may well pose a threat. Accordingly, A reacts to X's presence violently, while Z reacts to X's presence nonviolently. Virtue ethics does not seem to offer a wholly adequate way of determining whether A's violent response or Z's nonviolent response is appropriate. A will regard Z's pacifism as immoral, just as Z will regard A's violence as immoral. The point is not so much to determine whether A or Z (or neither) is doing the virtuous thing. Rather, it is that virtue ethics does not seem to offer enough guidance to make this determination. Or it ends up saying that both responses, for the respective culture, are virtuous. But if all our moral evaluations must be made relative to a given culture, then virtue ethics cannot address actions that have different value in different cultures. In other words, if evaluations are relativized, then virtue ethics does nothing more than say some things are right and some are wrong, but no one can really object when someone from another culture does something wrong so long as they act within their culture's moral parameters. There are those who do indeed support this view, which is known as ethical relativism. (See Table 6.1 for a review of ethical theories and theorists.)

6.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

Each of the three classic ethical theories—utilitarianism, deontology, and virtue ethics—has advantages and disadvantages, and none offers an obvious or easily applied solution to the question, "What should I do?" In this section, we will look at alternatives that have been developed in contrast to these three classic theories. Technically, these are regarded as "metaethical" views, in contrast to normative ethics. Normative ethics provides a way of evaluating acts as moral or determining whether a given act is right or wrong. Metaethics, as employed here, is the attempt to understand what ethics is and how we can and should understand moral questions and evaluations.

Ethical Egoism

Ego comes from the Greek word for "I." Most readers probably know at least a few people who could be described as having a big ego; that is, people with an exaggerated sense of their abilities, talents, accomplishments, or qualities. Egoism, then, means to have a focus on one's self, and ethical egoism is the idea that one's conception of right and wrong, good and evil, and other moral terms are determined by one's own sense of value. To return to the notion of utility, we could describe this position as advocating that one should do what maximizes one's own utility. In short, I should do what is in my own self-interest. Thus, in the most literal sense, this theory is selfish. Yet unlike more traditional moral theories, selfishness, or self-interest, is not seen as wrong or immoral, but the preferred way for one to act.

Let us return to the example of the group of children playing in a sandbox with access to only one toy. Sally, the ethical egoist—who we will just call the egoist from now on—determines that what makes her happiest, or maximizes her utility, is to have the toy to herself. Thus, it is in Sally's self-interest to get the toy, keep the toy, and play with they toy all by herself. This is not, however, the only result possible. It may be that she decides that she would get more out of it if everyone shared, or for that matter, if only one other person got to play with the toy. If she concludes that some other option is in her self-interest, then she should adopt that choice. So we can see that the crucial factor in this case is not that Sally gets the toy to herself; it is that what she perceives as most beneficial to herself will be what she should do.

Now let us revisit the example of Mary, who is trying to decide whether to go dancing or stay home with her three children. Factoring in the happiness of Mary and the three children, the utilitarian argued that everyone would be best off if Mary stayed home—that this scenario would produce the greatest net good for the greatest number. The egoist might conclude otherwise: If Mary sees her greatest happiness achieved by going out dancing, then she should go out dancing. Again, Mary may conclude that it would make her happiest to stay home. The egoist's position is that what Mary should do is whatever Mary sees as in her self-interest.

We saw that the classic theories of ethics—utilitarianism, deontology, and virtue ethics—all had problems when we tried to apply them to real life. Egoism, however, seems not to have that problem. People determine what is in their self-interest. They do what they think will make them best off, and according to this theory, that is what they should do.

Suppose Joe is a retired billionaire investment banker. He has several houses, cars, and servants and can take vacations whenever and wherever he wants. One day Joe sees Mike, an old friend from high school who has become homeless. Mike asks Joe for $10. For Joe, this amount is almost nothing; but Joe considers whether he would be better off giving the money to Mike or keeping it himself. Joe decides he would be happier keeping his money; egoism tells us that is what he should do. Traditional ethical theories and religious views may regard Joe as being selfish, greedy, and more generally, acting immorally. Egoism, however, does not; traditional conceptions of selfishness are not regarded by egoism as immoral. It may turn out, of course, that Joe decides that it is in his self-interest to give Mike the $10; it might make him feel better to help out an old friend, and after all, it is not much of a sacrifice for Joe. But egoism leaves that decision up to Joe, and what Joe perceives to be in his own self-interest is what Joe should do.

Many economists have argued that this is in fact how economic exchanges work in free markets. Buyers want to get as much as they can as cheaply as they can; sellers want to sell as much as they can for the highest price. Individuals, then, want to maximize their utility by getting as much as they can out of the exchange. In the traditional views, this sounds not just selfish, but greedy. Yet we assume everyone has, more or less, the same amount of information about the product involved, and we also assume that everyone knows that everyone else is trying to maximize his or her self-interest. In this way the market will in theory be most efficient and create more goods and more wealth for everyone if everyone acts in ways that maximize his or her self-interest.

Recognizing that greed was traditionally regarded as sin, political economist Bernard Mandeville (1670–1733) claimed that great benefits would be produced if everyone were greedy. He described this arrangement as "private vices, public benefits": That is, the private vice of selfishness would actually end up making society wealthier than it would have been otherwise, which is a public benefit. Joel Feinberg (1926–2004) is another philosopher who considered the role of selfishness in human actions. Feinberg, however, argues against psychological egoism, the idea that humans are internally driven to do all acts by selfish motives. He demonstrates logical inconsistencies in this position and ultimately claims that it is an unsound judgment about human motives in ethical judgment.

Problems With Ethical Egoism

Ethicists, religious leaders, and many others protest against ethical egoism because it seems to promote selfishness. The objection is fairly obvious: Being selfish is wrong, either because it is immoral, a sin, or both; so too must be an ethical theory that promotes it. However, another more subtle question might trouble the ethical egoist: How do we determine our self-interest?

Ethical egoism assumes that any individual can identify what is in his or her self-interest, but that may not always be the case. When considering what action to take, do I evaluate my self-interest in the short term, the long term, or something in between? Perhaps I think it is in my short-term self-interest to eat an entire blueberry pie because it is delicious; this will be against my self-interest, however, if I have a long-term goal of losing weight. Perhaps we could adopt the principle that my long-term interest should always override my short-term interest. Yet can I really be sure what my long-term interest is and that it will not change? Even if the question of what I know about my self-interest can be answered, a bigger problem may then arise: Can I ever be wrong about my self-interest? If whatever I do is defined as having been done in my self-interest, then how could I ever do something against my self-interest? The egoist maxim "One should do whatever one does" does not seem to offer much in the way of guidance.

An example further illustrates this. Suppose Emma decides it is in her self-interest to become, over time, very wealthy. Despite her love of shopping, taking nice vacations, and going out to expensive dinners with her friends, she resists doing so and becomes very frugal. She only buys the cheapest things and has to actively resist her friends' invitations to do all her favorite activities. She puts all the money she saves into the stock market and other investments and slowly starts to generate a substantial amount of money. She sees her friends less and less often and becomes somewhat of a hermit. After several years she realizes that she is very lonely, does not have much fun, and is generally unpleasant to be around. Even though she has met her goal of becoming wealthy, she realizes that she sacrificed too much to reach that goal. She decides to give all of her money away to charity and focuses on doing volunteer work to help others.

The ethical egoist would have offered Emma little guidance. By choosing her long-term goals over her short-term goals, Emma presumably maximized her utility. However, had she decided otherwise—to continue shopping, vacationing, and eating at expensive restaurants—she would have maximized her utility as well. This is because she would have made either choice in her own self-interest. Worse yet, her long-term goals changed, so she gave up not just her short-term pleasures but also her original long-term goal when she adopted a new one. Whatever Emma determines is in her self-interest is what she should do, but she clearly was not able to determine what that long-term self-interest really was.

Like utilitarianism, deontology, and virtue ethics, ethical egoism also falls short on the ethical issue of lying. The classical theories all had guidance for when or if one should lie, but their results were unsatisfactory and occasionally led to strange or even wrong outcomes. An egoist would be even less helpful on this subject. If Carolyn asks Bob to go to the movies but Bob does not want to go, should he lie and say he is busy? Should he tell the truth and say he does not want to go? The advice ethical egoism seems to offer is that it is all right for him to lie if he does so out of self-interest; the same is true if he tells the truth out of self-interest. It is unclear how this reasoning can help Bob make an ethical decision, however.

Relativism

We have now examined a number of theories and also acknowledged that each has its problems. One might be tempted to abandon the search for an ethical theory at this point, at least one that tells people what they should do and how they should live. Rather than taking this course of action, however, we should recognize that there are no universal or general ethical standards; that a person's ethical view is relative to his or her culture, society, tradition, religion, worldview, and even individual values. Because moral claims are said to be relative to something else, this is a metaethical view known as relativism. Even though philosophers distinguish between different kinds of relativism, we will generally use the term to mean that any ethical claim is relative to a set of beliefs and that any such ethical claim is true, or consistent with, that set of beliefs. To take a simple example: Suppose you like comedies and your best friend likes action films. It is not too problematic here to reject the suggestion that comedies are better than action films or to reject the suggestion that action films are better than comedies; each claim is relative to one's beliefs, desires, and preferences. Although it may make things more difficult when you and your friend go see a movie together, neither of you is determined to convince the other that there is some true, objective, or factual claim being ignored about the merits of comedies and action films.

Moral Relativism

Moral relativism extends this idea to the area of ethics. Ethical evaluations—saying some act is right or wrong—are made in terms of the context of that act and therefore are relative to the actor's culture and values. For example, some cultures bury their dead; some cremate their dead; some allow them to be exposed to the elements and scavengers; some mummify their dead (at least their important dead, such as Egyptian pharaohs); some cultures have even been reported to eat their dead. Which is right? Are any of these wrong? Some religions require the cremation of the dead, whereas other religions prohibit it. What is the relativist response to these issues?

The relativist simply says that the practice a given culture adopts as correct determines what should be done. Let culture A be a society that cremates, or ritually burns, its dead, while culture B is a society that prohibits cremation. The relativist says A's tradition is correct for A and not for B; in the same way, B's tradition is correct for B and not for A. Just as important for the view we are calling moral relativism is that those who live in culture A cannot say that cremating is right and not cremating is wrong; they can only say it is right for them. In the same way, those in culture B cannot say that cremating is wrong and not cremating is right; they can only say it is wrong for them. The opinion of cremation, then, is relative to the given culture, and there is no objective ethical standard to appeal to for determining whether cremating one's dead is right or wrong.

Many people find this position very attractive. It seems to eliminate the need, or desire, to provide objective evaluations for all people and all societies. It allow us to simply "agree to disagree," in that if some culture or society or religion does something that our society would deem as immoral, we are free to say it is wrong for our society but not for others.

Moral relativism is often characterized in terms of cultures, and cultural anthropologists have identified many practices that contrast, and even conflict, with some of the standard Western traditions. There are numerous rituals and ceremonies relating to birth, achieving adult status, marrying, and dying, to name a few, that reflect a wide range of beliefs and values.

We saw that Aristotle recommended generosity, within its appropriate limits, as one of the chief qualities a virtuous person would possess. Imagine a society in which people who are deemed good or virtuous are those who have the greatest wealth; in this society people would gain virtuous status by accumulating as much as they can and keeping it all to themselves. In contrast, consider a society in which people are deemed good or virtuous if they give all of their wealth away. Aristotle regarded a moderate amount of generosity as universally virtuous. Here we see that the moral relativist might regard a deficiency of generosity (keeping everything for oneself) as a virtue, relative to a society's values; an excess of generosity (giving everything away) can also be seen as virtue, relative to a society's values. The moral relativist concludes that the claim "generosity is a virtue" can only be evaluated in terms of a specific society's values.

Great Ideas: Cultural Relativism

Consider some of the following activities that involve cultural practices and traditions. Can you imagine a version of one or more of these practices that you would find objectionable? What does cultural relativism tell us about your objection? If you cannot imagine any practice that is objectionable, does that mean absolutely everything is morally permissible? If so, what are the implications of this idea?

Dating

Marriage

Health care

How the elderly are treated

What foods one can eat

Raising children

Education

Encountering strangers

Death

Adultery

Just as we considered the perspective of the other moral theories on this subject, what would the moral relativist have to say on the topic of lying? Is it wrong to lie? Is it okay to lie? Is it sometimes wrong to lie and sometimes right to lie? The moral relativist would likely say, "It depends." If your society rewards lying, or at least does not punish it, then lying might well be okay. If your society, on the other hand, has strict penalties against lying (whether legal, official, or informally enforced by community members), then lying will be wrong. "Lying is right" or "lying is wrong" are the kinds of claims avoided by the moral relativist, who would advocate statements more along the lines of, "Lying is right relative to a society that permits or encourages lying" and "Lying is wrong relative to a society that prohibits lying."

Extreme Relativism

So far we have discussed relativism in terms of societies and cultures. However, it is worth pointing out there is an extreme, or radical, kind of relativism, often associated with the ancient Greek philosopher Protagoras (ca. 490–420 BCE). This kind of relativism is said to hold true for individuals: If a person says something is true or false, right or wrong, then it is true or false and right or wrong for that person. We saw an example of this when you and your friend discussed your preferences for movies: For you it was true that comedies were best; for your friend, it was true that action films were best. Protagorean, or extreme, relativism extends this idea to all claims, including ethical ones. Presumably, this means if you think shoplifting is wrong but another person says shoplifting is not wrong, there is no "fact" we can point to in order to determine who is correct. Shoplifting is wrong for you, but not wrong (or even right) for the other person. That is about all there is to say about such disagreements.

This kind of relativism is often attractive in ethics because it allows us to avoid judging or criticizing other people and cultures. This is especially true when we are considering cultures and traditions with which we are not very familiar. However, similar to the other moral theories, issues have been raised with relativism as well.

Problems With Relativism

One problem with relativism is that some acts or traditions seem wrong not just in relation to a culture, but simply wrong on their own. For example, an ancient Hindu practice called suttee requires a woman whose husband has recently died to commit suicide by throwing herself on his funeral pyre. This can be done voluntarily, or she might be forced to do so. (The practice has been outlawed but occasionally still occurs.) Some societies continue to practice slavery. Others make child pornography widely available. Some societies practice infanticide, or the killing (or allowing to die) of an infant after birth if it lacks desired characteristics (frequently if it is a girl). Some societies have executed prisoners—often on flimsy or inadequate charges and with little legal protection—in order to take their organs and sell them on the black market. Of course, the 20th century offered many examples of leaders—Joseph Stalin, Mao Tse-tung, and Adolf Hitler, to name a few—who caused the deaths of millions under their reign.

The relativist would seem to say that such examples are wrong only relative to a specific culture or worldview. Perhaps we are from a culture that views infanticide or slavery as wrong; we would then say that, for us, these things are wrong. Yet from the perspective of a culture that does not share our views, perhaps infanticide or slavery—or both—are not wrong or are even right. The extreme cases tend to make people uncomfortable, which is the point. Do we want to say that a government policy that results in family members eating each other is only wrong relative to a given value system, or that such a policy is simply, fundamentally, universally, and obviously wrong? To be consistent, the relativist has to say that no matter how wrong something seems to be, the idea of "wrong" is still relative. This suggestion may make you as uncomfortable as it makes some ethical theorists.

Reformer's Dilemma

A second, more sophisticated objection to relativism, known as the "Reformer's Dilemma" (Feldman, 1978, p. 166), has been provided by the philosopher Fred Feldman (b. 1941). Imagine Sarah lives in a society that values boys but not girls. To keep the society going, some number of girls is needed, but parents are allowed to kill a third, female child if they already have a girl. Furthermore, if a couple already has three children, girls or boys, they are required to kill all subsequent female children. Sarah thinks this is wrong; perhaps she just feels it is wrong, or perhaps she has substantial arguments for her position. Yet moral relativism says that her society determines what is wrong or right, and it has determined that killing girls is right. So Sarah must be wrong to object to this policy. More generally, anyone who objects to any of a society's policies must be wrong. Thus, by this logic, Martin Luther King Jr. would have been wrong to object to oppressive and racist American practices in the 1960s; Nelson Mandela would have been wrong to object to the oppressive and racist South African system of apartheid. In fact, anyone who wished to change society could never be correct. This seems problematic, given that many of history's most admired people were critical of their societies. Worse, this seems to suggest that if criticizing social values always puts a person in the wrong, then society cannot ever be improved, and thus must be perfect. Yet as Feldman observes, this poses a challenge to the absolute relativist.

Remembering What We Agree On

Perhaps the most sophisticated response to relativism can be found in the work of American philosopher Donald Davidson, who expanded upon the work of Ludwig Wittgenstein. Davidson (1974) argues that radical relativism is incoherent, for several reasons. First, assume that the relativist is right and that a person's beliefs are relative to his or her society. However, we must recall that within any society, a person can "belong" to many different kinds of groups, based on ethnicity, class, income level, language, gender, race, religion, sexual orientation, and so on. Consider Jafari, who has lived for most of his life in France but was born in Egypt. His native language is Arabic and he is Muslim. From which group does he derive his values? What if one group to which Jafari belongs approves of, say, restricting women from working outside the home, whereas another group to which he belongs disapproves of such a prohibition? How does Jafari figure out whether it is right or wrong? To take the idea to its extreme, does a poor White 50-year-old Lutheran heterosexual woman from Texas have moral values in common with an 18-year-old wealthy Chinese lesbian or with a homosexual middle-class 50-year-old White Unitarian male from Pennsylvania? It seems that the many factors that constitute culture pose a problem for the relativist who argues that culture determines our values.

Second, Davidson points out that when discussing ethical viewpoints, politics, religion, and other controversial topics, we almost always focus on the areas over which we disagree. Yet in order to reach a point of disagreement, there are actually numerous issues and ideas upon which we actually agree. Consider a debate over gun control between Jim and John. Jim thinks no one should be able to own a handgun; John thinks everyone should be required to own a handgun. Their disagreement seems substantial, yet imagine if they started their disagreement by listing the points on which they agree, the points that make their disagreement possible—such as that guns do not speak Japanese, guns do not make good hats, guns are not an appropriate filling for sandwiches, guns cannot fly, and so on. This exercise hardly makes our disagreements disappear, yet it highlights how people's agreements typically outnumber their disagreements. As Davidson puts it, disagreements—even between two people from dramatically different cultures—can only occur within the context of massive agreement, or on the assumption of an enormous background of shared ideas. Relativists would likely purport that two people from different cultures would agree on very little. However, in order to disagree, Davidson argues that they must agree on an awful lot even to reach the point of disagreement.

Nietzsche's Challenge

Relativism seems to place ethical problems on a scale of "difficult to solve" to "unsolvable." As Davidson indicates, this may be the consequence of focusing exclusively on what divides us rather than what unites us. Others have challenged even more fundamentally the values of society as a whole, including traditional political and religious structures. Perhaps the most powerful such challenge came from the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche.

Nietzsche's father, uncle, and grandfathers were all Lutheran pastors, but Nietzsche's father died when he was 4 years old, and his brother died a few months later. Nietzsche was raised by his mother and sister, was sent to a highly prestigious boarding school in Germany, and at the age of just 24 accepted a position to teach classical philology (the study of classical Greek and Latin texts) at the University of Basel in Switzerland. Nietzsche taught there for 10 years, but his job was interrupted by military service, during which he received a serious injury. His health in general was not good, and he had to resign from his teaching post. He spent much of the rest of his life wandering around Italy, France, Switzerland, and Germany. In 1889 Nietzsche had a mental breakdown and collapsed in Turin, Italy. He spent the remaining years of his life unable to communicate, not realizing that the many books he had produced had begun to make him a world-famous philosopher.

Übermensch

Nietzsche's influence on 20th-century philosophy is difficult to overstate. He presented, and still represents, a radical challenge to traditional ethical viewpoints. His position called for a reevaluation of all values; that is, a criticism and scrutiny of all the various things that traditional morality and religion had said were good or wrong. In doing so Nietzsche determined that much of traditional morality was fundamentally wrong. He declared that "God is dead" (and had been killed by human beings) and defended atheism. Nietzsche thought that Judaism and Christianity had adopted the ancient ideas of the Greeks and Romans and perverted them. Before Christianity, the "good" was identified as the strong, the powerful, the courageous, the noble, and the creative; the "bad" was that which was weak, timid, small-minded, and cowardly. Nietzsche argued that Christianity turned this upside down. He suggested that people had been convinced by "the priests"—those who control a society's moral, cultural, political, and religious values—that what had been good was now evil and what had been bad was now good. Hence, he saw the prevailing morality as preventing those who were noble, creative, and bold from being recognized as superior to the masses. He also argued that the masses—who were timid and weak—could be easily controlled by those in power, like sheep by a shepherd. He thought both Christianity and democracy (a democracy being of a mass of people who were kept ignorant and did what they were told) held back society's very few exceptional individuals who were capable of achieving greatness. Such an individual was called by Nietzsche an Übermensch, which is usually translated as "superman" or "overman" (Nietzsche, 1973). This overman creates his (or her; Nietzsche's issues with women are notorious, but very complex) own values, and his own morality, as an expression of his power to overcome the values people around him have tried to force upon him. In this way the overman becomes a free and independent spirit, risking everything in his unwillingness to accept social conventions. Ultimately, Nietzsche (1974) suggests a view he calls "eternal recurrence" as the goal of the truly noble soul: People should seek a life that they would be happy living if they were to have to live exactly that way for eternity.

Critiques of Nietzsche

Those who have resisted Nietzsche's ideas (and there are many) do so for a number of reasons. Unlike Nietzsche, they think moral and religious traditions express important truths and values, and certainly disagree that "God is dead." Most Nietzsche scholars reject the idea that he was the type of extreme relativist discussed previously in this chapter; however, it is easy to see why some might regard him that way. After all, if one creates one's own values, then those values would seem relative to that person. Some critics regard Nietzsche as elitist because of his suggestion that just a few "great souls" were allowed full access to freedom and independence, but the great masses who did not so qualify were relegated to mediocrity, following rules they did not understand and more or less doing what they were told.

Friedrich Nietzsche called for intense scrutiny and criticism of all of what traditional morality and religion had deemed as good and bad.

However, there is no denying that in the history of ethics, Nietzsche presents a serious challenge to a number of different moral and religious traditions. He requires us to examine our moral values and see how we use them to justify our actions. Has Christianity been used to promise people a true reward that will come after death to make it easier to control them while alive? Have Western societies often punished people who are unwilling to go along with their overriding values? Interestingly enough, at times Nietzsche identified Jesus as a person whom society punished for being brave and independent enough to raise profound objections to the values imposed upon him, but Nietzsche (1968) also remarked that the "last true Christian died on the cross" (sec. 39). Have societies that officially or unofficially regarded themselves as Christian acted in ways that violate the very Christian principles they are said to embrace? These and many of Nietzsche's other questions are important reminders that people often say one thing but do another. Nietzsche's willingness to expose this hypocrisy has continued to confront Western philosophy, specifically its development of moral theories. He has, therefore, demanded that philosophers and all those interested in moral questions carefully consider whether what we do actually conforms to what we believe. Demanding we make this critical and uncomfortable self-examination is the very thing that makes those demanding it unpopular; many think this was precisely the reason Socrates was executed. At the same time, most of us recognize that it is to our benefit to see if there are any contradictions between what we believe, why we believe it, and how we treat others.

Tolerance and Diversity

We may well reject Nietzsche's scathing critique of society and its hypocrisy. We may also resist what seem to be Nietzsche's elitism and his lack of tolerance. At the same time, given the increasing global interdependence and the diversity of societies, philosophers have also worried about whether we can determine what an appropriate amount of tolerance is. The United States is a diverse country, with people from a vast number of backgrounds who represent numerous ethnic groups, religious traditions, and countries of origin. Some 80% of Americans speak English, but according to the 2010 U.S. Census, more than 350 other languages are spoken (or signed) in the United States (although some of these are spoken by a very small groups). Some estimate there are more than 200 different religious denominations in the United States. There is even more diversity globally, of course: The planet's 7 billion people speak thousands of different languages, practice thousands of different religious traditions and denominations, and are composed of thousands of different ethnic groups. In India alone, for example, some 350 different languages are spoken by a substantial number of people, even though its official state language is Hindi (and its secondary "official" language is English).

Assuming that differences in culture, religion, ethnicity, and other value systems generate disagreement, this degree of diversity would indicate a good deal of disagreement. It would be nice to think that ethicists—or anyone else, for that matter—could come up with a recipe for preventing, or at least minimizing, these disagreements and thereby minimize the military invasions, terrorism, and various other violence caused by these disagreements. That may seem a bit optimistic, but it is worth thinking about how the study of ethics could move us closer to this goal.

Extreme Tolerance and Intolerance

We can start by identifying two positions on opposite ends of the spectrum: extreme tolerance and extreme intolerance. The extremely tolerant person will accept all cultures, perspectives, views, and ethical values expressed by any society, anywhere, and at any time. In short an extremely tolerant person tolerates everything. Extreme intolerance, on the other hand, involves tolerating nothing but one's own view. Thus, the extremely intolerant culture Z rejects all other cultures from A through Y. One and only one position is acceptable to Z, and Z regards all other cultures as wrong. The extremely tolerant society, on the other hand, never considers another view to be wrong and never challenges or criticizes it. Thus, it would never need to engage another culture or society militarily. The extremely intolerant society may always be at war, however, for it always sees any culture with distinct views as being incorrect.

It is likely that few, if any, cultures qualify as either extremely tolerant or extremely intolerant. Most fall between these two extremes. Considering the polar opposites is useful, however, because it gives us a sense of the limits involved in describing the various ways one might endorse, or advocate, tolerance. For even though many agree that "tolerance" is generally a good thing, we can see that too much tolerance could be as bad as too much intolerance. Imagine you are sitting quietly at home, watching a baseball game with a friend. Someone comes in, shoots your friend, and takes everything you own. An extremely tolerant person would have no objections to this scenario. More generally, extreme tolerance may lead to what one might call the paradox of tolerance, for the extremely tolerant person cannot object to the extremely intolerant person, and ends up tolerating the most vicious, dogmatic, and violent kind of intolerant behavior. Even if tolerance is a virtue, Aristotle would tell us that too much tolerance can be bad.

However, a look around indicates that threats are more likely to stem from intolerance. A government may ban free speech or a particular religion. Two countries may go to war over a piece of land not because they each want it, but rather they each want to prevent the other from acquiring it. Terrorists may kill people who practice a different religion or those who simply hold different values. A town may practice informal discrimination against people regarded by the majority as "different," whether because they are a different race, religion, sexual orientation, or have another minority identity. A person may decide that abortion is so immoral that it is acceptable to murder a doctor who performs abortions. Do philosophers, specifically ethicists, have tools to question these and other intolerant acts?

Reflective Equilibrium

In his extremely influential 1971 book A Theory of Justice, the philosopher John Rawls (1921–2002) puts forth a strategy he calls reflective equilibrium. While the full theory is quite complex, Rawls's fundamental ideas help make clear our sense of fairness. Rawls believes any plausible conception of justice must be one that is regarded by all who participate in a society's decisions as fair, and thus he is famous for characterizing justice as fairness (Rawls, 1971).

Rawls describes a thought experiment where people come together to design a society in which they will at some point live. He puts a crucial condition on those designing this society: They are behind what he calls a "veil of ignorance" (1971). That is, they do not know what kind of person they will be in this future society: They do not know their gender, race, religion (if any), class, ethnicity, sexual orientation, physical handicaps, and so on. Thus, what the participants determine to be fair must express what each thinks would be fair for all. For instance, a man would not describe a society that discriminates against women, for he might discover that in this future society, he is one.

Part of Rawls's discussion requires the notion of reflective equilibrium, where individuals with various moral and political views discuss the moral and political views of others, in order to see what agreement can be reached. As Rawls describes the idea, "adopting the role of observing moral theorist, we investigate what principles people would acknowledge and accept the consequences of when they have an opportunity to consider other plausible conceptions and to assess their supporting grounds" (Rawls, 1971).

To illustrate the idea further, consider the following example. John and Mary, who come from very different backgrounds, compare their notions of a just and fair society. They both are willing to consider the other's viewpoint and recognize that some adjustment to their own notion may have to be made. Perhaps John is suspicious of religions other than his own, whereas Mary is an agnostic and thus has no religion. Through reflective equilibrium, John adjusts his beliefs to accept others who may not share his religious views, and Mary adjusts her beliefs to allow more tolerance for those who cherish their religious commitments. After much give and take, they come to a position they both accept. In a certain sense Rawls offers a sophisticated account of precisely what many people do all the time: compromise. In doing so he suggests a nonviolent way of solving our disputes, and thus provides us with another way to think about making our diverse and often contentious planet more harmonious.

6.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

We have seen some of the best known ethical theories and some of the challenges they confront. We have also seen some of the alternatives to these traditional theories and some of their weaknesses. We will now look at more specific ethical issues, describe the problems they present, and examine how ethical theories might be used to resolve them. We will begin with personal or individual ethical issues before turning to more general social ethical issues, although there is often overlap between these. We will see that many ethical issues require us to think about the relationship between the individual and his or her society and how one influences the other. (See Table 6.2 for a list of topics to be explored in ethics.)

Promises

We all make promises, and for the most part we expect promises to be kept. Since I expect others to keep their promises, deontological ethics insists that this means I should keep the promises I make. The utilitarian takes a different approach; perhaps there are situations in which the greatest number achieves the greatest net good by breaking a promise. We probably also think that promises have a certain context, or set of conditions. For example, we should not make promises we know we cannot keep. Yet it may not be unethical to make a promise, try our best to fulfill it, yet end up breaking it. Various kinds of examples bear out these ideas further.

Imagine you promise to pay Smith $5 next week if he loans it to you today (you are friends, so he does not charge you interest). Smith may think that in addition to being paid back, if he loans you money, you might return the favor some day if he is in need. Similarly, you do not want Smith to regard you as someone who does not meet his obligations; or perhaps you might need to borrow money again in the future, so you want to be sure to pay it back this time. One might look at this from the point of view of ethical egoism: You and Smith are both looking out for your self-interest, now and in the future. So Smith loans you the money, and you promise to pay it back (and do).

On the one hand, your self-interest is best met by getting the money and ensuring the potential to borrow more. Smith's self-interest is best met by loaning the money and ensuring his potential to borrow from you. The deontologist, on the other hand, says that you have made a promise to Smith—to pay him back—and that one should keep one's promises; not out of self-interest, but because it is the right thing to do. (We can determine that it is the right thing to do by looking at it from the perspective of the Golden Rule or from the perspective of Kant, who would suggest that morality requires that promises be kept.) Meanwhile, the utilitarian might say there are various outcomes, but paying back the loan will certainly create a utility calculation that would not be lower than any of the other outcomes. Presumably, being honest and keeping one's promises are virtues—at least if done appropriately and in moderation—so the virtue ethicist will also insist that the money be paid back. As we see, then, the ethical egoist, the deontologist, the utilitarian, and the virtue ethicist all agree that the promise should be kept, but they arrive at that conclusion from very different directions.

However, these theories may not always agree so nicely. Consider marriage vows, in which partners promise to love, cherish, honor, and obey, among other things, "till death do us part." Despite the fact this promise is binding and often made before God, it is not always kept. Presumably, people make this promise fully intending to keep it, but circumstances change. Assuming one or both members of a marriage are sufficiently miserable to end it, the utilitarian would probably conclude that doing so would lead to the greatest good for the greatest number. The deontologist might say that although promises should never be made lightly, the Kantian "universality requirement"—that we act in such a way that it would always be the right thing to do in those circumstances—could be taken to mean that ending the marriage is the right thing to do. The virtue ethicist would probably argue that keeping a promise to remain married, if it makes one or both of those people miserable, is immoderate and fails to recognize that it is sometimes appropriate to break promises. In this case, however, one can also see that others might argue that a utility calculation, an application of the categorical imperative, or the virtue of honesty might require the marriage to continue.

Thus, ethical theories might not only conflict with each other, but may even conflict with common sense. For instance, if one interprets Kant as saying that promises must never be broken, then it would violate his ethical principle to dissolve the marriage, even if it condemns both people to abject misery for the rest of their lives. This also shows that ethical theories are not really "recipes" that guarantee a certain and reliable ethical outcome. Instead, they can offer guidance for ascertaining right and wrong, so long as we understand that their application may change depending on a situation's specifics.

Free Speech

In the United States specifically, a number of political and ethical questions arise from how one interprets the Constitution. It will be helpful to see a specific example of this from the Bill of Rights. The First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States reads:

A high school in Rhode Island displayed this school prayer banner in their auditorium until one of its students, an atheist, requested the school take it down. She argued that the banner was offensive to non-Christians.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

The questions this raises about religion—whether what is known is the "establishment" clause or the "free exercise" clause—are pretty well known. However, the questions of the freedom of speech and of the press raise issues that are also worth looking at, in terms of constitutionally protected rights, and what our ethical theories might say about when those rights might be violated.

As we saw with the issue of promises, we probably start with an assumption that free speech, for individuals and for the media (or press), cannot be prohibited without a very good reason. In other words, free speech is always assumed to be protected unless legitimate reasons can be provided.

Yelling "Fire!"

The most famous example of when free speech can be prohibited comes from the Supreme Court case Schenck v. United States (1919), in which Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes noted that one should not be allowed to yell "Fire!" in a crowded theatre. The reason is that falsely indicating there is a fire could cause panic and put people in danger as they all rush toward the exits. Holmes's reasoning sounds utilitarian: Even if the person yelling "Fire!" gets some degree of pleasure from doing so, everyone else is at risk of psychological trauma and physical injury. Thus, the greatest good for the greatest number demands prohibiting this kind of speech. The deontologist, who rejects lying on principle, would agree with Holmes's conclusion, pointing out that falsely yelling "Fire!" is a lie. As we have seen before, two different ethical theories come to the same conclusion, though for different reasons.

Even those who advocate the greatest amount of free speech recognize that in this specific case, the harm caused outweighs the right to say whatever one wishes. There are other such restrictions recognized in the law: One cannot threaten the life of the president, for example, nor freely joke about bombs or hijacking while in an airport. Most people recognize these as legitimate restrictions to the First Amendment's guarantee of free speech.

Freedom for Speech We Do Not Like

Real life presents many situations in which one person's right to say something may violate another person's right not to hear (or see) it. For instance, there are various laws that regulate pornography's production, distribution, and sale. Should adults be able to take whatever kind of pictures they want and sell them to another adult? Some argue that to prevent them from doing so is a restriction on free speech; others argue that pornography objectifies women (treating them solely as a means to an end, not as ends in themselves, in Kantian language) in ways that can lead to violence, sexual abuse, rape, and other immoral and illegal acts, and thus should not qualify as protected speech. Even though most people agree that child pornography should be illegal (as it is in the United States), what about a novel that depicts a pornographic scenario involving a child? Should consenting adults be allowed to write and read such novels?

Great Ideas: Bradley Manning, Daniel Ellsberg, and Free Speech

In 2010 soldier Bradley (now Chelsea) Manning was arrested on charges that he had passed classified material to a website known as Wikileaks. In 2013 Manning pleaded guilty to 10 of the 22 charges he faced, though many debate whether he should be regarded as a hero or a traitor for exposing national secrets.

Manning is not the first American to make government secrets public; in 1971 Daniel Ellsberg leaked the now famous Pentagon Papers, which revealed numerous problems about the prosecution of the Vietnam War.

Are such leaks justified? Some suggest that without them, government malfeasance and incompetence would be much harder to discover; others argue that the government must withhold certain information from the public for reasons of national security.

Many other such cases have arisen in which one person's right to free speech conflicts with another person's desire—possibly legitimate desire—to prevent that speech. Should high school students be allowed to wear T-shirts that other students—or teachers—find offensive? Should a person be allowed to advocate the overthrow of the U.S. government? Should a person be allowed to design a Web page calling for the murder of physicians who provide abortion services? Should a student be allowed to pray in school? Should such schools allow or prevent such prayers at official school functions such as football games or graduations? We may want to protect religious speech, but what if one person's religious speech offends another person's religious beliefs? Is there a danger of a majority trampling the rights of a minority?

Ethical theories do not provide exact formulas for solving such debates. How might a utilitarian respond to these kinds of cases? How might a deontologist respond? Would they agree? Would they disagree? How would they support their conclusions? Would it depend on the circumstances of the case? If so, does that prevent us from developing a sufficiently general notion of morality, as expressed in the Golden Rule or the "greatest net good for the greatest number" principle of utilitarianism?

Greed

Earlier we saw that ethical egoism calls into question some of the traditional philosophical and religious objections against selfishness and its end result, greed. Here we will explore whether there is any conflict between what traditional views say about greed and certain principles underlying a capitalist economy.

In director Oliver Stone's 1987 film Wall Street, a wealthy investor named Gordon Gekko makes a speech that is now probably better known than the movie itself. He declares:

Greed—for lack of a better word—is good. Greed is right. Greed works. Greed clarifies, cuts through, and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit. Greed, in all of its forms—greed for life, for money, for love, knowledge—has marked the upward surge of mankind. (Pressman & Stone, 1987)

As we saw briefly, in economic exchanges between two people, each wants the very most he or she can get. If John wants to buy something from Mary, he wants the most he can get for the least amount of money, and Mary wants the greatest amount of money she can get while giving up the least. This desire for getting the most for the least is often considered the way we should (and do) act. Traditionally, however, wanting as much as possible of something was regarded as being greedy. In contrast to Gordon Gekko, one might consider this passage from the Gospel according to Saint Luke: "Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions" (Luke 12:15). Indeed, many religious traditions regard greed—sometimes called avarice, covetousness, or cupidity—as a sin. Gekko says "greed is good"; Saint Luke says "greed is bad." Presumably, they cannot both be right.

With the exception of ethical egoism, Saint Luke seems to be backed up by traditional ethical theories. Returning to our sandbox with four children and one toy: The greedy child wants the toy all to him- or herself. The utilitarian will reject this as failing to generate the greatest good for the greatest number, whereas the deontologist will point out that this is not the kind of act that would always be the right thing to do. It is probably safe to assume that Saint Luke approved of the Golden Rule, and we can simply apply it by asking the greedy child: "Would you like it if some other greedy child took the toy and did not allow anyone else—including you—to play with it?" The virtue ethicist would see such greed as an extreme: We may desire to have certain things, but those desires should be moderate. Perhaps we should not desire too little, which would be an extreme of self-sacrifice, but the extreme of desiring too much is greed, and thus virtue ethics would reject it.

Does this mean our ethical theories are in fundamental conflict with our economic theories? In many ways, Gordon Gekko summarized how capitalism works. A business wants to sell the most goods or offer the most services at the highest prices it can charge, and it wants to capture the largest market share. Its competitors want to do the same thing. Its customers, on the other hand, want to get the most goods or services for the lowest prices they can find and will go to a company's competitors to do so. There exists, then, competition between customers and companies, and the end result is that customers get the best price, companies that make the best product have the highest profits, and companies that charge too much or produce goods or services of lower quality go out of business. So it is possible that acting in one's self-interest (whether as company or customer) reveals that maybe Gordon Gekko is right. Greed is good!

There are some legal restrictions that prevent certain types of greed. Agencies such as the Food and Drug Administration ensure that companies do not take shortcuts on products that might make consumers ill. The U.S. Department of Justice Antitrust Division supports competition among companies and works to prevent monopolies. The U.S. government has sued both IBM and Microsoft for operating as monopolies. Thus, there are some rules that prevent absolute, unrestricted greed. However, that does not mean that companies (or customers) should not act in their own financial best interest.

It unclear how ethical theories treat this apparent conflict between business practice and moral values. Perhaps one might say that in certain contexts greed is good, whereas in other contexts it is wrong. Perhaps the term greedy is not adequate for describing entities or individuals who seek the biggest profits or the lowest prices. Or we might say that businesses should not follow the same moral code as individuals. We should also consider that many outrageously profitable companies have also made substantial charitable contributions and supported worthy causes. Cynics might suggest that companies do this to improve their public image or for a tax deduction, which would then beg the question of whether a company's reasons for giving to charity mattered.

In any case we see the difficulty in applying ethical theory. While not many parents would teach their child the merits of being greedy, how would we explain to the child how the business world works? The difficulty is illustrated by imagining the child to ask, "So, should I be greedy or should I not be greedy?"

Vegetarianism

An enduring contribution of philosopher Ludwig Feuerbach is the observation that "you are what you eat."

Ethical questions can arise from even the most ordinary activities, such as eating. A once famous, now somewhat forgotten German philosopher Ludwig Feuerbach (1804–1872) once observed, "You are what you eat" (1864). We are all familiar with the notion that a healthful diet is important and that those who eat foods high in saturated fat, cholesterol and trans fats are at greater risk for stroke, heart disease, cancer, diabetes, and other health problems. But aside from health issues, can there be ethical issues involved with diet? From one perspective, what people eat may reflect their relationship to the rest of nature and the extent to which they seek to be in some kind of harmony with nature. Another perspective considers how our food is produced and whether it forces sentient beings to experience cruelty and pain. Should we care if our food is borne from the pain and suffering of other animals? Should we want to know more about the process, or is it acceptable to be ignorant of how our food is produced? The German politician Otto von Bismarck once pointed out that one cannot enjoy politics or sausage if one closely observes how either is made. Would someone continue to enjoy eating meat if he or she knew how the animal from which it came was raised?

We might begin addressing this issue by identifying the extreme positions relative to food. At one end of the spectrum, there is the extreme omnivore: a person who eats anything and everything he or she wants and does not care about how that food is produced. At the other end of the spectrum is the extreme vegan, a person who refuses to eat any animal products or by-products such as butter, eggs, cheese, honey, or food containing these, such as pastas and breads. Few people adopt either such extreme: Even an extreme omnivore might (we hope) draw the line at eating human flesh, and an extreme vegan may be willing to eat some things, such as yeast or apples, even though it may be difficult to determine whether yeast is in the relevant sense of "alive," and often apples are glazed with a shellac made from insects.

Great Ideas: Are You What You Eat?

Which of the following would you definitely eat? Which would you possibly eat? Are there any items in this list you would never eat? What kind of reasons did you use to distinguish among the three categories?

Cat

Dog

Chimpanzee

Chicken

Rat

Pig

Squirrel

Horse

Soybean

Lobster

Cockroach

Bonobo

Rabbit

Spider

Human

Cow

Dolphin

Octopus

Snail

Grapes

Take one of the foods you would possibly eat and justify your choice using one of the ethical theories discussed in this chapter.

Within these extremes is a wide range of positions. Some carnivores do not eat red meat (beef, pork, and sometimes duck) but only chicken and fish. Some vegetarians eat eggs, cheese, and butter, and others make an exception for fish. Some people say they will not eat anything with a personality or anything with a face! What people are willing to consume may depend on their culture or religion: In some cultures, eating pork is thought to be not just revolting but a violation of strict religious dietary laws. In the United States many are repulsed by the idea of eating dogs or chimpanzees, but other cultures may eat both without giving it any more thought than some Americans would to eating a pork chop.

Speciesism

Can ethicists offer any guidance on determining the right thing to do (or eat)? Ethicist Peter Singer (b. 1946) has famously argued from the perspective of utilitarianism that animals—including humans—deserve some degree of respect because they have "interests." Singer rejects the idea that human interests are somehow superior to those of other sentient beings. Minimally, all animals seek pleasure and avoid pain. We assume, with some good evidence, that rocks do not feel pain but that cats do. Singer believes that we should take this pain into consideration. To do otherwise is what he calls speciesism, which ignores the interests (and suffering) of other species. Singer thinks speciesism is no more defensible than racism or sexism. Singer (1975) concludes that respecting the greatest good for the greatest number—the greatest number of sentient beings, that is—offers an argument in favor of vegetarianism or even veganism.

Singer's position may be extreme, and his views are controversial. However, supporters of his view argue that food production methods inflict needless pain and cruelty. For example, veal is often produced by taking a calf from its mother at birth and raising it in a small crate in which it cannot turn around or lie down comfortably. The calf is never allowed any exercise and is fed a milk substitute so that it will produce a prized pink flesh when it is slaughtered between 12 and 23 weeks of age. Factory-farmed chickens are kept in small cages, often along with tens of thousands of other chickens; they frequently have their beaks removed and are injected with growth-producing drugs that make them so fat they cannot stand up. The crowded conditions also generate a great deal of disease that quickly spreads from chicken to chicken. These and other methods for raising animals for food have been criticized for inflicting an unacceptable level of pain.

This is an interesting ethical issue that many people prefer to ignore. It is, after all, considerably easier to enjoy fried chicken if one does not know what the chicken experienced. Of course, there are many who argue that eating meat itself is not wrong as long as one's meat does not comes from large-scale factory farms.

Virtue ethics might make a compelling case on this issue: that one should prevent any cruelty that can be avoided and that a moderate approach might include some meat but not too much, or perhaps meat of some kinds but not others. Aristotle recommended eating "clear meats," by which he seemed to mean poultry and fish. It is interesting to consider whether this course of action might be in agreement with some versions of utilitarianism (though not Singer's) as well as some versions of deontology. To be sure, ethical theory is not, generally, going to determine what we eat, but it might make us pause and think about whether we have good reasons for eating what we do.

Euthanasia

Ethics can raise troubling questions not only about seemingly ordinary activities like eating, but also its most difficult and mysterious ones, such as death. Suppose Richard's wife of 40 years, Elizabeth, has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Elizabeth, who is in her 70s, has been told by several different physicians that the disease is unquestionably terminal; she can expect to live at most another 18 months, over which time she will experience increasing levels of pain. Drugs can minimize the pain but not fully relieve it. As the weeks go by, Elizabeth experiences increasingly agonizing pain. Her doctor has given her the strongest drugs available, and in massive doses, but they seem not to work. Through it all, Richard has to helplessly watch his wife suffer.

In this type of case, some ethicists (such as James Rachels; 1941–2003) have argued for euthanasia (from the Greek for "good death"), or the right to die. The argument is straightforward: A person who is virtually certain to die within a given amount of time and is experiencing or will experience a lot of pain before he or she dies should be able to choose an earlier, less painful death. What purpose is served by keeping a person alive only to experience constant, agonizing pain? This argument is also used to support physician-assisted suicide (PAS), which is slightly different from euthanasia. In PAS a doctor provides a patient with a lethal dose of medication or another way of causing death, but the patient, not the doctor, ends his or her own life. Some countries, such as Netherlands and Belgium, have made PAS legal. Oregon legalized PAS in 1997; the Supreme Court upheld Oregon's "death with dignity" law as constitutional in 2006, and it has since become legal in Washington and Vermont.

Some of the opposition to euthanasia and PAS comes from an insistence that there is a difference between killing people and letting them die, as was suggested by philosopher Philippa Foot (1984) in her work "Killing and Letting Die." Other opposition is grounded in religion. In this view, life is a precious gift from God. To end it prematurely is to reject that gift; only God should determine when life should end. As Saint Thomas Aquinas put it, "Whoever takes his own life sins against God." According to some religious traditions, suicide indicates a lack of trust in God and a rejection of God's plan. Other nonreligious objections to PAS are based on the potential consequences of its legalization: that it could inspire a catastrophic lack of respect for life; that family members or physicians might pressure patients to end their lives prematurely; or that a person may end his or her life not because of terminal illness but due to a treatable condition such as depression.

Assuming Elizabeth has PAS available as an option, she and her husband still confront an extremely difficult decision, one that has to be made under the most challenging circumstances. Even though ethics may help clarify what is at stake, it may not ultimately be able to design a satisfactory solution. Also, the effects of such ethical decisions may not always be limited to the individual. If Elizabeth terminates her life via PAS, her decision affects many others and is representative of just one view within her larger society. Others may condemn her decision on the basis of their own ethical or religious views, though it is questionable whether they have the right to insist their views be the basis of universally enforced laws. We probably do not think kosher laws—such as the prohibition on eating pork—should be imposed on those who do not keep kosher. Should a Roman Catholic's view be imposed on someone who does not share such beliefs or even actively rejects them?

Many argue that a compromise is to continue to develop drugs and other forms of palliative care—treatment that reduces suffering—to alleviate a terminally ill person's anguish. The hospice movement emphasizes the reduction of end-of-life suffering and promotes death with dignity, and it has thus become an increasingly attractive option for those who resist endorsing PAS.

6.4 Social Issues in Ethics

Ethical theory can do a great deal to clarify what is at stake and help us better evaluate our choices. It can be challenging, however, to distinguish between ethical questions that confront individuals and those that involve large parts or even all of society. This is the focus of our next discussion. Because these questions affect everyone, we must consider how everyone's voices can be integrated into solutions, or why, perhaps, such solutions should be left to experts. We will conclude by considering whether we can truly make sense of the distinction between individual and social ethical decisions.

Animal Rights

Animal Rights

Humans and animals have rights, but whether they are the same has long been disputed.

We touched on the question of animal rights when discussing ethical issues related to eating meat and vegetarianism. Ethics can also help us navigate other issues in the relationship between humans and animals. As we consider some of these, recall that humans are of course animals. Too frequently animal rights discussions proceed in terms of the contrast between humans and animals. We may be different kinds of animals, or possess qualities other animals do not; but we also have a number of things in common with the rest of the animal kingdom. Here, however, we will use "animals" to refer to the nonhuman kind.

What We Have in Common

For centuries the distinction between humans and animals was taken for granted, and a sharp line between them was easily drawn. René Descartes, for instance, regarded animals as simply physical bodies that lacked minds or souls; thus, animals were similar to organic machines. This is in line with a long history of Western and Christian thinking. Another aspect of that tradition, sometimes called the great chain of being, ranks all things from highest to lowest: God, followed by the angels, then human beings, then other animals, then plants. There are a number of distinctions within these categories as well; some cultures or societies rank kings higher than other humans, men higher than women, some classes of angels above others, and some even rank certain plants above others, so that the oak tree is superior to the yew tree.

In contemporary times, however, research and interaction with some species such as cetaceans (whales, dolphins) and primates (chimpanzees, bonobos) make drawing the line between human beings and other animals more difficult. Research has indicated that nonhuman animals may do many of the things once regarded as uniquely human, such as make tools, develop plans, grieve, remember, and use language. In addition, biologists have demonstrated that human DNA and chimpanzee DNA overlap between 95% and 98%. Primatologists have suggested that the DNA of bonobos overlaps with human DNA to an even greater extent (Navin, Thomas, NISC Comparative Sequencing Program, & Yi, 2006). In light of these discoveries, some have proposed the propensity for religion, the ability to pretend, the sense of time, and even essential differences in the brain as qualities that makes humans unique.

Great Ideas: Are There Limits to the Way We Treat Animals?

Given the account of animal sentience, intelligence, and their ability to feel pain, are there any animals you would hesitate to submit to drug or product testing if those tests involved experiencing severe levels of pain and then death?

One could conclude that drawing the line between human beings and other animals is arbitrary and depends on controversial criteria. For instance, would it seem odd to give crabs or mice the same respect we might think bonobos and dolphins deserve? If the line all the way from human beings to, say, bacteria is continuous and without any gaps, then anywhere we draw the line will be controversial and, to a certain extent, involve guesswork. One solution is to simply distinguish humans from other animals, but that seems more an assumption rather than a defensible position.

Where Do We Draw the Line?

Drawing this line is essential to the question of animal rights. Cultures vary on their acceptance of acts done with and to animals, such as making clothes and shoes from their body parts; testing pharmaceuticals and perfumes on them; and even watching them fight to the death for entertainment or sport. For example, many Americans objected strongly when professional football player Michael Vick was involved in dogfighting. Yet other countries regularly stage bullfights, which often conclude with a ritualized death of the bull. In the United States some groups object to raising, killing, and skinning animals for fur, whereas others regard such criticism as too sensitive. Does the fact that people need safe, effective drugs mean that chimpanzees should be subjected to medical testing? One such test, called the Draize test, applies a substance (a cosmetic or other product) to an animal that is restrained and conscious; scientists then record the substance's effects (burning, toxicity, and so on). Is this test necessary or useful?

Responses to these issues often depend on our relationship to other animals. As Descartes proposed, if we recognize humans as unique and all other animals as inferior, there is no obvious problem in treating other animals as we wish. On the other hand, those who propose that we draw the line at sentience (as does Peter Singer) would have a problem with testing on animals, using animal products, bullfighting, and even eating honey or using leather products. Somewhere in between may be a response that many find satisfactory—a compromise that says torturing animals for perfume or fur is unnecessary but that subjecting them to tests that improve human life and health is acceptable. This compromise incorporates the idea that cruelty to other animals not only inflicts needless pain and suffering but also says a good bit about those who are willing to inflict that pain and suffering.

The Environment

Many ethical issues are also political ones, meaning that many choices we make as individuals significantly affect the larger community. At the same time, the community imposes restrictions and laws that limit our choices as individuals, often for good reason. Few would oppose laws that require everyone to stop at red lights or drive in the same direction on the same side of the road.

One set of political or social issues is known as environmental ethics. This is the study of obligations and values relating to the environment, including any human obligations and values. Many philosophers and religious traditions have considered the relationship between human beings and the environment. Aristotle suggested that all things are made by nature for human beings; that is, the value of things is what they can produce for humans. Genesis 1:26 states, "And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth." Some have interpreted the notion of dominion to mean that humans are masters of the earth and can do with it what they please.

In this view, nature is an instrument to achieve other human goals and is therefore said to possess "instrumental value." Thus, just as a spoon may have instrumental value in allowing me to achieve my goal of eating, the group of plants that produces digitalis may have instrumental value in the medicine they can create for patients with heart conditions. Of course, something also has value if people get pleasure and enjoyment from it, and so one would be able to say that a particularly vibrant sunset has instrumental value in providing the pleasure humans get from experiencing it.

More recently, however, many environmental ethicists have argued that things other than human beings have intrinsic value, meaning that they have value in themselves and not for some other purpose. This view rejects the assumption that only human beings possess intrinsic value and argues that other things have a right to exist not solely because of some human purpose they serve but simply because they are part of nature and the universe. This is a controversial view, and one that is in fact quite old. Many religious traditions regard the earth as a sacred gift that must be cared for and protected. This seems to be the idea expressed in Ezekiel 34:18: "Seemeth it a small thing unto you to have eaten up the good pasture, but ye must tread down with your feet the residue of your pastures? and to have drunk of the deep waters, but ye must foul the residue with your feet?" Many Native American traditions have also regarded the relationship between people and their environment as sacred. As one ancient Native American proverb states:

Treat the earth well.

It was not given to you by your parents,

it was loaned to you by your children.

We do not inherit the Earth from our Ancestors,

we borrow it from our Children.

Thus, we have two distinct ways of interpreting the relationship between human beings and their environment. One regards the environment as possessing solely instrumental value (although this does not necessarily endorse the idea of using it however one pleases); the other regards the environment as possessing intrinsic value, thus preventing it from being treated simply instrumentally and requiring respect. Of course, there are many different interpretations of each of these positions, as well as positions that seek some degree of compromise between them, or even combine the two views. We can contrast the two perspectives more clearly with a specific example.

Great Ideas: Ethics, Economics, and the Environment

You are the CEO of Smith Petroleum. Large amounts of oil have been discovered in the middle of Yellowstone National Park. The oil industry claims that the reserves in Yellowstone will lower gas prices in the United States by 10 cents a gallon and create at least 10,000 new jobs. Both private environmental groups and federal agencies, however, have described the environmental damage posed by the drilling as "catastrophic."

The decision to drill is entirely yours to make. Before you answer the following questions, you may wish to visit this link:

http://www.nps.gov/yell/index.htm

Ethics of Extinction

Consider the dwarf wedge mussel, an aquatic mollusk found exclusively on the Atlantic coast of North America. This mussel has become extinct in Canada and is severely endangered in the United States. It has very little obvious use to human beings. It does not seem to provide any particularly essential medicinal value, is not eaten, and does not offer much in terms of aesthetic value or beauty to human observers since it spends most of its time buried completely in the bottom of streams and rivers.

This animal's survival may well depend on whether it is regarded in terms of possessing instrumental or intrinsic value. Those who see little use for it may not particularly care if it goes extinct, beyond some possible repercussions in the rest of the food chain. However, the instrumentalist perspective would suggest that if the mussel plays a crucial role in its ecosystem that affects the fishing industry, this might be reason enough to prevent the mussel's extinction. (Some instrumentalists tend to err on the side of caution in these cases, recognizing that human beings may not always be wholly aware of what value a given organism might have; it might be something that has yet to be discovered.)

The intrinsic perspective does not need to specify some value or product the mussel offers human beings; its existence as part of an environmental subsystem gives it intrinsic value. We should simply do what is reasonable to protect the mussel and prevent its extinction out of our respect for the earth in general and this little part of it specifically. Some might think it is silly to protect such an odd little critter. Others may argue not protecting it is silly. For example, suppose a major threat to this mussel is chemical runoff from golf courses. Are we genuine stewards of an environment if we allow species to go extinct in order to preserve the right to hit a small white ball relatively large distances with the goal of placing it in a hole that is 4.25 inches in diameter?

Population growth, the economic and technological development of large countries such as India and China, and the difficulty in determining the costs and benefits of specific economic and developmental policies are all other issues that fall under this category. Humans have become considerably more aware that resources are finite, and many environmental ethicists insist that we realize we are dependent on the earth and not treat it as a source of riches to exploit and plunder. Some have likened the earth to a spaceship on which humans are traveling. From that perspective, the earth looks more like a home to be cared for than a department or grocery store from which we take things without regard to the consequences.

The Personal and the Political

We began by looking at certain kinds of behavior—keeping promises, end of life issues, even determining what to eat—that seem to be based on individual choices that more or less only affect the person who makes them (obviously, if one breaks a promise, it affects the person to whom the promise was made). We then considered more general ethical questions that affect whole communities. Here we will conclude our discussion of ethics by looking at the distinction between the individual and society, a line that is not easily drawn.

Consider "victimless crimes" (sometimes called consensual crimes), activities that are against the law but do not physically harm a person or property, or were voluntarily (consensually) entered into. Examples of victimless crimes include smoking marijuana, failing to wear seat belts and motorcycle helmets, committing suicide, as well as engaging in prostitution, sodomy, or bungee jumping. The question is whether the state, or society, has the right to prevent a person from engaging in such activities. Those who stress minimal state involvement and emphasize a libertarian approach to state authority suggest that drug laws, pornography laws, curfews for teenagers, and even driver's licenses are beyond the legitimate scope of what government can legislate.

It is sometimes argued that banning a victimless crime could generate more victims than the banned activity. An example is the 18th Amendment banning alcohol in the United States. Prohibition gave rise to organized crime and gangsters like Lucky Luciano, shown here at right.

Victimless crimes help clarify government's legitimate role and also demonstrate that society's rules can change over time. For instance, many states had laws against sodomy for decades. Even though sodomy is a general term used to describe nonreproductive sex acts—acts that cannot lead to reproduction—sodomy laws were generally enforced only against homosexuals. Such laws were ruled unconstitutional in the United States in 2003 but are still found in other countries' legal codes. Another example are sumptuary laws, which were designed to prevent extravagant consumption. The Massachusetts Bay Colony, for example, prohibited people who did not have substantial wealth from wearing lace, hatbands, belts, or capes.

Laws that prohibit activities that are very common and widely accepted may not effectively curb behavior, and may even worsen it. Many have argued that the ban on alcohol during Prohibition (1919–1933) was both widely ignored and allowed criminals to develop powerful criminal organizations. If this objection is correct, then banning the victimless crime of drinking alcohol generated more victims than drinking itself would have caused.

From a different perspective, however, it has been argued that many so-called victimless crimes cannot be removed from their social context. Take as an example Al, whose occasional yet illegal marijuana use seems to harm no one but himself (and it is debatable whether he is even doing that). Those defending this law might argue that Al and everyone else who violates the laws against marijuana financially support drug cartels and criminals who have corrupted governments, murdered police officers, politicians, and judges, supported terrorism, and numerous other serious crimes. From this perspective, we may want to ask if Al's marijuana habit is in fact a victimless crime or if the larger context in which he buys marijuana must be considered.

Prostitution is another so-called victimless activity prohibited in some countries (such as the United States, except in a small part of Nevada). Two distinct issues arise here: whether engaging in sex as a prostitute or a customer should be illegal and whether the victims—if there are any—are the result of the activity or a result of the activity being illegal. The libertarian perspective argues that prostitution involves a voluntary, consensual agreement between two adults in which the government has no legitimate right to interfere. Those who oppose legal prostitution argue that prostitutes face a wide variety of dangers from both customers and pimps, including rape and battery. They also argue that many prostitutes sell sex out of economic necessity, and thus it should not be regarded as voluntary. Furthermore, many impoverished and desperate young women are sold against their will into prostitution. How we describe the situation may determine our moral evaluation of it.

The relationship between the personal and the political is an issue that Virginia Held confronts in her article about feminist responses to ethical theory. The personal realm has often been aligned with the feminine while the political has often been aligned with the masculine. Women are thought of as participating in the life of the home (the personal) while men have been thought to lead the life of the state (political). Held examines assumptions about the role of women in society and the ways that women are working in the ethical tradition to provide a feminine voice in a world that is dominated by the masculine.

As we have seen, some activities that were once illegal have become legal, or at least "decriminalized," presumably due to society's changing standards. Perhaps this means, as the saying goes, that "you cannot legislate morality," meaning that the state simply is not good at legislating ethical choices. However, we legislate morality all the time. A society legislates against murder on the assumption that it is wrong. No one responds to the fact that people continue to murder each other by recommending that we get rid of laws that make murder illegal. Ethics provides some guidance but offers no clear-cut set of rules to determine an answer on which everyone will agree. Ethics can clarify how we determine the relationship between the individual citizen and their society. Is it a laissez-faire society? Or is it a society that exerts its power to ensure that all its members are treated fairly and given equal access to opportunity? How we answer that question plays an important role in how we look at a society's laws, rules, and informal policies. That answer will in turn help us evaluate the morality of the various activities in which people and communities engage.

Book Reference

PHI 208: Understanding Philosophy - Kurt Mosser