Sometimes water rescues are easy.
Circumstances matter, don't they? This week's thought experiment shows that they certainly do in the case of moral decision-making, and that blows a hole through simpleminded applications of utilitarianism. Let's look at the experiment and then I'll show you what I mean.
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Sally's boat was one of only a few that regularly sailed these waters, which is why she always made a point of listening out for SOS calls. So when she heard that an explosion had left a dozen people in the ocean, without lifeboats, she immediately set a course for them.
But then she received a second message. Her own husband's fishing boat was sinking and he needed help too. The problem was that, to get to him, she would need to go even further from the drowning dozen. And with the weather turning bad, and no other vessels responding to the distress calls, it seemed clear to Sally whoever she went to second would probably be dead by the time she got there.
There was not much time to think. On the one hand, not to save her husband would seem to be a betrayal of their love and trust. On the other, he was a good man, so wouldn't he also see the sense in saving twelve people instead of just one? She knew where she wanted to head first, but not where she should.
Baggini, J., The Pig That Wants to Be Eaten, 2005, p. 286.
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To me, this story is far too vague to make an informed decision. Consider just two scenarios with some additional facts:
Scenario 1
Sally's young, kind, hard-working husband had to go fishing every day to support not only his family, but many members of the village who lived near these out-of-the-way waters. By contrast, the dozen people in trouble were terrorist drug smugglers who ignored weather conditions and rough seas, which led to an accident with their bomb-making supplies.
Scenario 2
Sally's 95-year-old husband had been suffering terribly with incurable bowel cancer after having lived a long life marred by years of drunkenness and domestic abuse. The twelve people in trouble were comprised of four Nobel prize winners and their young assistants who, as a result of their research, were sinking an old ship for a reef creation program intended to renew the local ecosystem when a small mistake put them in danger.
Wouldn't you make different decisions about who to save in each of these scenarios? I would. And confidently, too. Yet that seems to go against an important point that Baggini wants to raise via his discussion of this experiment. He noted that:
It has been held by most ethicists that morality demands the equal respect of all persons. As Jeremy Bentham said, "Each person is to count for one and no more than one."
Bentham is of course considered one of the main founders of utilitarianism, which remains one of the most important schools of thought for moral philosophers. Probably the most famous living utilitarian philosopher is Peter Singer, who I quoted in my published paper on morality for having explained this view of moral equality more thoroughly. He wrote:
If I have seen that from an ethical point of view I am just one person among the many in my society, and my interests are no more important, from the point of view of the whole, than the similar interests of others within my society, I am ready to see that, from a still larger point of view, my society is just one among other societies, and the interests of members of my society are no more important, from that larger perspective, than the similar interests of members of other societies...Taking the impartial element in ethical reasoning to its logical conclusion means, first, accepting that we ought to have equal concern for all human beings. (Peter Singer, The expanding circle: ethics and sociology, 1st ed., 1981, p. 119.)
This is exceedingly logical and compassionate when it leads to universal human rights and effective altruism within human societies, but as my scenarios above show, the equal weighting of persons or sentient creatures in the theoretical mathematics of utilitarianism doesn't always hold up in the real-life decision-making of individuals. This is partly because we are not indistinguishable widgets that can be perfectly substituted one for another. We are living animals with brief times on Earth, and we're made up of a unique gene-culture, co-evolutionary combination of nature and nurture. Even for strict utilitarians, we individuals have different capacities to promote pleasure or reduce pain. And that should mean our moral obligations towards all individuals are not all equal either. In one of the FAQ's on my academic paper, I already discussed this point when I wrote the following question and answer:
Q. Does this concern for all of life mean we can’t enjoy many of the things that make us human? Singer already tells us we should morally give all our spare money to other poor people across the globe. Do we have to do the same for birds and flies and plants and bacteria now too?
A. Singer stated that we should have “equal concern for all human beings” but that lead him to conclusions about charity and largesse that were out of touch with our actual moral urges. While all human beings originally have equal standing for claims, especially from the point of view of the veil of ignorance , the actual force of their claims on us is variable depending on many things such as our ability to satisfy their claims, their reputation from prior actions, or their possibility of reciprocating aid over repeated interactions in the future. Moral concerns are a force that behaves somewhat like gravity with stronger pulls by larger bodies at close distances often overshadowing the background tugs of fainter objects far away. As long as we remain sensitive to the possibility that the collection of those tugs from fainter objects may occasionally outweigh those from more obvious sources, then there is no reason we can’t enjoy many of the localized concerns that make us human.
So is this thought experiment really such a paradox? Not if the details of the situation are as extreme as either one of my scenarios. But in other more difficult situations, Baggini is right to point out that,
The basic principle at work here seems to be that we are right to focus our energies and attention on family and friends rather than strangers, just as long as by doing so we treat everyone fairly. As principles go, however, it's not a very useful guide to practice. Is it fair to lavish expensive toys on your own children while others starve to death? Is it fair for articulate, knowledgable parents to get the best out of public services while other, usually poorer, ones fail to take full advantage of what is on offer? Is it fair to help your children with their homework and so enable them to do better than kids whose parents are not willing or able to do the same? Some of these questions are more difficult than others. But unless you believe that we need think only of ourselves and our families, such dilemmas will arise for everyone at some stage.
Yes, dilemmas arise in life. It would be nice to have simple rules to avoid such difficulties, but deontological laws don't hold up in all situations, and utilitarian calculations aren't precise enough to know what actions always lead toward the long-term survival of life in general (my universal definition of good). Therefore, it is vital to develop as much dispassionate wisdom as possible to make morally difficult choices. There's no getting around that. And we must be sympathetic to those faced with such difficult choices. So go on Sally, decide who you would rather save, based on your unique circumstances, and then go and sail to get them. We'll understand.
--------------------------------------------------
Sally's boat was one of only a few that regularly sailed these waters, which is why she always made a point of listening out for SOS calls. So when she heard that an explosion had left a dozen people in the ocean, without lifeboats, she immediately set a course for them.
But then she received a second message. Her own husband's fishing boat was sinking and he needed help too. The problem was that, to get to him, she would need to go even further from the drowning dozen. And with the weather turning bad, and no other vessels responding to the distress calls, it seemed clear to Sally whoever she went to second would probably be dead by the time she got there.
There was not much time to think. On the one hand, not to save her husband would seem to be a betrayal of their love and trust. On the other, he was a good man, so wouldn't he also see the sense in saving twelve people instead of just one? She knew where she wanted to head first, but not where she should.
Baggini, J., The Pig That Wants to Be Eaten, 2005, p. 286.
---------------------------------------------------
To me, this story is far too vague to make an informed decision. Consider just two scenarios with some additional facts:
Scenario 1
Sally's young, kind, hard-working husband had to go fishing every day to support not only his family, but many members of the village who lived near these out-of-the-way waters. By contrast, the dozen people in trouble were terrorist drug smugglers who ignored weather conditions and rough seas, which led to an accident with their bomb-making supplies.
Scenario 2
Sally's 95-year-old husband had been suffering terribly with incurable bowel cancer after having lived a long life marred by years of drunkenness and domestic abuse. The twelve people in trouble were comprised of four Nobel prize winners and their young assistants who, as a result of their research, were sinking an old ship for a reef creation program intended to renew the local ecosystem when a small mistake put them in danger.
Wouldn't you make different decisions about who to save in each of these scenarios? I would. And confidently, too. Yet that seems to go against an important point that Baggini wants to raise via his discussion of this experiment. He noted that:
It has been held by most ethicists that morality demands the equal respect of all persons. As Jeremy Bentham said, "Each person is to count for one and no more than one."
Bentham is of course considered one of the main founders of utilitarianism, which remains one of the most important schools of thought for moral philosophers. Probably the most famous living utilitarian philosopher is Peter Singer, who I quoted in my published paper on morality for having explained this view of moral equality more thoroughly. He wrote:
If I have seen that from an ethical point of view I am just one person among the many in my society, and my interests are no more important, from the point of view of the whole, than the similar interests of others within my society, I am ready to see that, from a still larger point of view, my society is just one among other societies, and the interests of members of my society are no more important, from that larger perspective, than the similar interests of members of other societies...Taking the impartial element in ethical reasoning to its logical conclusion means, first, accepting that we ought to have equal concern for all human beings. (Peter Singer, The expanding circle: ethics and sociology, 1st ed., 1981, p. 119.)
This is exceedingly logical and compassionate when it leads to universal human rights and effective altruism within human societies, but as my scenarios above show, the equal weighting of persons or sentient creatures in the theoretical mathematics of utilitarianism doesn't always hold up in the real-life decision-making of individuals. This is partly because we are not indistinguishable widgets that can be perfectly substituted one for another. We are living animals with brief times on Earth, and we're made up of a unique gene-culture, co-evolutionary combination of nature and nurture. Even for strict utilitarians, we individuals have different capacities to promote pleasure or reduce pain. And that should mean our moral obligations towards all individuals are not all equal either. In one of the FAQ's on my academic paper, I already discussed this point when I wrote the following question and answer:
Q. Does this concern for all of life mean we can’t enjoy many of the things that make us human? Singer already tells us we should morally give all our spare money to other poor people across the globe. Do we have to do the same for birds and flies and plants and bacteria now too?
A. Singer stated that we should have “equal concern for all human beings” but that lead him to conclusions about charity and largesse that were out of touch with our actual moral urges. While all human beings originally have equal standing for claims, especially from the point of view of the veil of ignorance , the actual force of their claims on us is variable depending on many things such as our ability to satisfy their claims, their reputation from prior actions, or their possibility of reciprocating aid over repeated interactions in the future. Moral concerns are a force that behaves somewhat like gravity with stronger pulls by larger bodies at close distances often overshadowing the background tugs of fainter objects far away. As long as we remain sensitive to the possibility that the collection of those tugs from fainter objects may occasionally outweigh those from more obvious sources, then there is no reason we can’t enjoy many of the localized concerns that make us human.
So is this thought experiment really such a paradox? Not if the details of the situation are as extreme as either one of my scenarios. But in other more difficult situations, Baggini is right to point out that,
The basic principle at work here seems to be that we are right to focus our energies and attention on family and friends rather than strangers, just as long as by doing so we treat everyone fairly. As principles go, however, it's not a very useful guide to practice. Is it fair to lavish expensive toys on your own children while others starve to death? Is it fair for articulate, knowledgable parents to get the best out of public services while other, usually poorer, ones fail to take full advantage of what is on offer? Is it fair to help your children with their homework and so enable them to do better than kids whose parents are not willing or able to do the same? Some of these questions are more difficult than others. But unless you believe that we need think only of ourselves and our families, such dilemmas will arise for everyone at some stage.
Yes, dilemmas arise in life. It would be nice to have simple rules to avoid such difficulties, but deontological laws don't hold up in all situations, and utilitarian calculations aren't precise enough to know what actions always lead toward the long-term survival of life in general (my universal definition of good). Therefore, it is vital to develop as much dispassionate wisdom as possible to make morally difficult choices. There's no getting around that. And we must be sympathetic to those faced with such difficult choices. So go on Sally, decide who you would rather save, based on your unique circumstances, and then go and sail to get them. We'll understand.
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