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7. CONTRACTUALISM AND CHARACTER
In this chapter I shall confront
the problem left over from Chapter 5, arguing that there is a way in which
contractualism can accommodate duties towards animals that is independent of
the question of offence caused to animal lovers. I shall then investigate just
how extensive these duties may be, on the resulting account.
Judging by character
The general thesis I want to
defend in this section from a common-sense perspective, is that some actions
are seriously wrong, not because they cause any harm or violate any rights, but
simply because of what they reveal about the character of the agent. I shall
later go on to argue that this thesis is not only correct, but fully explicable
within contractualism. It will then turn out that some ways of treating animals
are morally wrong, just as common-sense tells us, but only because of what
those actions may show us about the moral character of the agent. This will
then be a form of indirect moral significance for animals that is independent
of the fact that many rational agents care about animals, and hate to see them
suffer.
Consider the example of Astrid, the astronaut, once
again. Suppose, as before, that she has set her craft irreversibly to carry her
out of the solar system, and that she is travelling with her cat, and her grandfather.
Now at a certain point in the journey the grandfather dies. Out of boredom,
Astrid idly cuts his corpse into bite-size pieces and feeds him to the cat. Is
her action not morally wrong? It seems to me intuitively obvious that it is.
But why? Plainly no harm is caused to the grandfather, nor is there anyone else
who is to know of what she has done and be offended. Nor need the action
violate any rights. For even if we allow that the dead have rights, such as
might be infringed by ignoring someoneÂ’s will, the grandfather may have waived
all relevant rights in this case. Astrid may have heard him say many times,
when he was still in full possession of his faculties, that he did not care in
the least what happened to his corpse after his death. Even so, it seems to me
that AstridÂ’s action is morally wrong.
What Astrid does is wrong because of what it shows about her. Her action is bad because it
manifests and expresses a bad quality of character, and it is an aspect of her
character that is bad in the first instance. While there is perhaps no precise
name for the defect of character that her action reveals, it might variously be
described as ‘disrespectful’ or ‘inhuman’ - though each of these terms is
really too broad for what is wanted. That she can act in the way that she does,
shows either a perverse hatred of her grandfather in particular, or a lack of
attachment to humanity generally.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂIt seems to be a universal feature of human
nature that the treatment of corpses reflects something of our attitude towards
the living. Certainly there are no human cultures that fail to have ceremonies
of various sorts for honouring and disposing of the dead. Exactly what kinds of
activities will count as honouring the dead is, of course, a highly
conventional matter. In some cultures the proper way to dispose of a corpse is
to bury it, in some to burn it, in some to embalm it, and in some to eat it.
There might even be a culture in which the correct treatment of a corpse would
be to cut it in pieces and feed it to a cat - though I am supposing that this
is not true of AstridÂ’s case. But in no cultures are corpses simply cast
aside, as some might throw away a dead rabbit or a dead rose bush.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂI propose that the manner in which we treat
our dead is best understood symbolically, the corpse being an embodied image of
the person who has died, and perhaps also an image of persons generally. If
this is right, then an attack on a corpse would universally be interpreted as a
symbolic attack on the dead person. It shows something about oneÂ’s attitude to
the individual person, and perhaps towards humanity generally, that one is
prepared to attack their concrete image - that is to say, their corpse. Then if
the attitudes revealed are bad ones, the actions that manifest and sustain them
may be morally condemned as well.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂOnce we have realised that it is part of
common-sense morality that an action can be criticised for what it shows about
the character of the agent, we may begin to see that such judgements are really
very common. For example, suppose that Jane is a doctor attending a medical
conference, who happens to be relaxing in the hotel bar in the evening with
many of the other doctors present. The room is subdivided into a number of
separate cubicles, in such a way that, while she can see the central area in
front of the bar itself (which is currently empty), she cannot see any of the
doctors seated in the other cubicles, although she knows that they are there.
Suppose that she then notices someone walking across the central area, who
collapses with what appears to be a heart attack. Out of laziness, Jane does
not move to assist him. This is surely very wrong of her. But why?
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂSuppose that JaneÂ’s inaction does not in fact
do any harm, since some of the other doctors are soon there to help. She had
every reason to think that this would be the case, moreover, given that she
knows there are many well-qualified and well-motivated people as close to the
person as she is. Nor does she violate any rights by not going to the sick
manÂ’s assistance. For while he may have a right to assistance from doctors in
general, he has no special claim against her in particular. The only
explanation is that JaneÂ’s inaction is wrong because of what it reveals about
her character. It manifests a lack of humanity, more specifically a failure of
beneficence. (Beneficence being the virtue that attaches us to the welfare of
others.)
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂThis is not to say that behaviour such as
JaneÂ’s must always display lack of beneficence. If she happens to have a
migraine at the time, or a twisted ankle, then her lack of action may easily be
excusable. (It would be a different matter, of course, if Jane were to believe
herself to be the only doctor present. Then even a migraine would be no excuse
for inactivity.) There is a general truth here, that whether or not a given
action manifests a particular defect of character will depend crucially on the
circumstances, and the motives from which it is performed. Suppose that instead
of being in a space-rocket, for example, Astrid had been adrift with her
grandfather on a life-raft in the Atlantic. As before, the grandfather dies,
and as before she cuts his corpse into small pieces. But now her motive is to use
the pieces as bait to catch fish for her to eat. This makes a crucial
difference. In such circumstances her treatment of his corpse need display no
disrespect or inhumanity. For her own survival is at stake.
A contractualist rationale
I have presented an
intuitive case that actions may not only be judged for the harm that they cause
or the rights that they infringe, but also for what they reveal about the
character of the agent. Now recall from Chapter 2 how I argued that a
utilitarian should take a serious interest in character - arguing, indeed, that
qualities of character should be the primary object of utilitarian assessment.
I also suggested in that chapter that contractualists should believe in a duty
to develop in themselves a disposition towards beneficence - a point I shall
return to shortly. But we have yet to achieve any general theoretical
understanding of the way in which contractualists should regard qualities of
character.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂWhy should rational agents who are trying to
agree principles to govern their interaction with one another take any interest
in character? Part of the answer lies in a realistic assessment of the springs
of human action. While we are rational agents, in that we are capable of
planning and evaluating alternative courses of action, most of our actions are
by no means calculative. Some are routine, having passed the point where
conscious deliberation is any longer necessary. Many others are done on the
spur of the moment, prompted by circumstances in a way that pre-empts careful
reasoning. Here general features of character, such as fair-mindedness or
honesty, may make a great deal of difference to what we do. And even when there
is time for deliberation it may require courage, for example, in order for us
to pause for thought. (To take a fanciful case, if you find yourself in a room
with a time-bomb, knowing that you have five minutes remaining until the
explosion, courage may be displayed in pausing to reason that it would be
better to take the bomb out into the garden, than to run into the garden
yourself, leaving the bomb to destroy the house.) Indeed, the very readiness to
take thought at all is itself a general feature of character, possessed by some
people but not others.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂIn so far, then, as contracting rational
agents are interested in the principles that are to govern their behaviour,
they should also be interested in the general dispositions of thought and
feeling that may make appropriate action more likely. So they should at least
require people to try to develop those virtues that are sometimes described as
‘enabling’. These include the virtues of courage, self-control, and
thoughtfulness, that may be useful whatever it is that you are trying to do,
but also if you are trying to comply with moral rules. This is then one reason
why rational agents should agree, not just to accept certain rules, but also to
try to develop certain features of character.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂBut what reason would rational contractors
have for taking an interest in the specifically moral virtues, such as those of
generosity, loyalty, friendliness, and honesty? Some of these are easy, in so
far as they fall under the general category of justice. One would expect that
rules requiring honest and open dealing and speaking, for example, would
certainly be amongst those agreed upon. Then rational contractors, taking a
realistic view of the springs of human action, should also require agents to
develop a general love of, and disposition towards, honest action, rather than
mere calculated compliance with the rule.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂThe reasons why contractualists should regard
themselves as required to develop virtues of beneficence, such as generosity
and loyalty, are more theoretically interesting. They arise out of the fact
that rational agents should surely wish to agree on more than merely rules of
non-interference. For they may be certain that they shall, at some point in
their lives, require help from others. Most of us require assistance from
others almost every day, indeed. This may take many different forms. It may be
material, such as gifts or loans for those who find themselves temporarily
without funds. Or it may be practical, in the form of physical assistance, for
example, as when another pair of hands is necessary to lift something into
place. Or it may be psychological, in the form of advice, friendship, sympathy,
or support. A society in which rules of non-interference were respected, but in
which no positive assistance was ever given, would not only be cold and
cheerless, but many of our desires would remain unfulfilled as a result, and
many of our most cherished projects would be incomplete.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂGiven that rational contractors should provide
for duties of assistance, as well as those of non-interference, how should the
former be instituted? Plainly such agents cannot agree that everyone has a duty
to help each of those who are in need, in the way that they should agree that
everyone has a duty to respect the autonomy of others. For the result would be
incoherent. Suppose that my wallet has been stolen, for example, and that I
need the bus-fare home. If everyone
were to give me the fare, then I should be a millionaire! (It is no real reply
to this, to say that as soon as one person has helped me, everyone elseÂ’s duty
to pay me the bus-fare lapses. For there will be many cases in which we are
required to act in ignorance of what others may or may not have done.) Yet we
cannot require only that everyone should give an appropriate proportion of what
is needed, since many kinds of assistance are not divisible - as when the
battery of my car is flat and I need someone to help me jump-start it.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂFor similar reasons, we cannot agree that
those in need should have the right
to assistance from others. For all rights imply a correlative duty. Sometimes,
as in the case of the right not to be interfered with, the correlative duty is
owed by all other agents - everyone is obliged not to infringe my autonomy. But
then this would return us to the position we have just been discussing. Other
rights imply duties on the part of particular persons or groups of persons. My
right to fulfilment of a promise only implies a duty on the part of the
promisor, for example, and my right to treatment of a minor illness only
implies a duty on the part of the group of doctors with whom I am registered.
But the problem with applying this model to the supposed right to assistance,
is to find some appropriate person or group of persons who owe the correlative
duty. For example, just who would be supposed to owe me the duty of
jump-starting my car? (Note that we cannot answer ‘The first person who can help me, who is aware of my need’.
For then agents would not be able to know, in general, whether or not they owe
the requisite duty. How are you supposed to be able to tell whether or not you
are the first person to have become
aware of my need who could help, without engaging in extensive investigation
first?)
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂThe obvious and only feasible solution, is
that rational agents should agree to develop a general disposition to help those in need, to be exercised when the
opportunity arises to do so at no comparable cost to themselves. What they
should agree to develop is a general attachment to the good of others, and a
preparedness to act on their behalf. For if all have such an attachment, then
almost everyone will get the help they need, when they need it (given certain
obvious conditions of normality). Note that, in general, there will be no
particular person whom I am obliged to assist. This will depend upon the
circumstances, and on the other projects that I may be pursuing at the time.
But each failure to help when the situation arises will count towards showing
that I am not the sort of person that I ought to be. However, those situations
in which I am aware that I am the only person who can help, as in the example of callous Carl from Chapter 2,
constitute a special case. Here failures to assist may encounter direct
criticism - that Carl can walk on past the child in such circumstances is
sufficient to show that he has not developed the right sorts of attachments, no
matter whether he is late for work or has a horror of water.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂRational agents should thus agree to try to
develop virtues of beneficence, because of their knowledge that all would wish
to live in a community of a certain sort. If human beings are to flourish, they
need the support and sympathy of those around them when they are struck down by
illness, or poverty, or grief. They also need a sense of community with others,
that will require a degree of loyalty towards those who are close to them, and
a general friendliness in their dealings with others. Rational agents should
therefore agree, not just to abide by certain rules and principles (not to
kill, not to steal, not to cheat), but also to develop certain positive
attachments and dispositions of feeling. They should agree that they may be
criticised, not just for infringing one anotherÂ’s rights, but also if they
fail to show compassion, and are not ready to help those who are in need.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂIt is important to stress a significant
difference between the sort of contractualist treatment of character that has
just been outlined, and the utilitarian approach to character presented in
Chapter 2. In the context of utilitarianism, the value of virtues of character
lies entirely in their consequences, leading to greater utility overall. Under
contractualism, on the other hand, the consequentialist values of virtues of
character - in facilitating right action or in contributing to a certain sort
of society - enter in only at the stage when rational contractors are
considering what sorts of persons they should try to become. Thereafter the
rightness or wrongness of possessing, or failing to possess, a virtue of
character is independent of such consequences. Thus in our example above,
Astrid may be criticised for the failing of character displayed towards her
grandfatherÂ’s corpse even though, in the nature of the case, her faults will
never again have any effect on her treatment of another human being. Rather,
the criticism is that she has failed to do her fair share, in the moral sphere
- like anyone else, she was obliged to try to create in herself the sort of
moral character that would (in the right circumstances) contribute to the form
of society that all would wish for. Utilitarians, in contrast, must deny that
Astrid does anything wrong, since no harm of any sort will result.
Animals and character
We can now explain, from a contractualist
perspective, why it may be wrong of Astrid to use her cat as a dart-board, even
though no other person will ever know or be distressed. Such actions are wrong
because they are cruel. They betray an indifference to suffering that may
manifest itself (or, in AstridÂ’s case, that might have manifested itself) in that personÂ’s dealings with other
rational agents. So although the action may not infringe any rights (cats will
still lack direct rights under contractualism), it remains wrong independently
of its effect upon any animal lover. Animals thus get accorded indirect moral
significance, by virtue of the qualities of character that they may, or may
not, evoke in us.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂIt is important to stress that right action
with respect to animals, on this character-expressive account, will generally
be non-calculative. People who act out of sympathy for the suffering of an
animal do not do so because they calculate that they will become better persons
as a result. Rather, their actions manifest an immediate sympathetic response,
and are undertaken for the sake of the animals in question. For this is what
having the right kind of sympathetic virtue consists in. This immediacy of
response, however, is entirely consistent with the view that the moral value of
the virtue, in so far as it manifests itself in our treatment of animals,
derives from its connection with our treatment of human beings. Contracting
rational agents should agree to try to develop a ready sympathy for one
anotherÂ’s suffering, and sympathy for animal suffering is, on the current
proposal, merely a side-effect of this general attitude.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂI shall investigate in a later section just
how powerful a constraint is placed on our treatment of animals by this
account. But it seems plain, at least, that actions that cause suffering to
animals will be wrong whenever they are performed for no reason, or for trivial
reasons (on the grounds that they manifest brutish cruelty), or whenever they
are performed for their own sake (since they will then manifest sadistic
cruelty). So the hit-and-run driver to whom it never occurs to stop, in order
to help the dog left howling in pain at the side of the road, as well as the
one who drives on because late for an appointment at the hair-dresser (as well
as, of course, the driver who runs down the dog for fun in the first place),
will each count as having acted wrongly, on the present account. For in each
case the action will show the agent to be cruel.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂWill this character-expressive account extend
also to actions that cause the (painless) death of an animal? If so, then those
who hunt animals for sport, or who kill them (or arrange to have them killed)
for the pleasure of eating their flesh, will stand morally condemned. For if it
were true that sympathy should be extended for the death of an animal as well
as for its suffering, then it is plain that such actions would count as
brutishly cruel, since the pleasures for which they are undertaken are trivial
ones. In fact, however, it is doubtful whether we manifest cruelty by such
killings, as I shall now try to explain.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂIt is obvious that beneficence towards human
beings normally encompasses actions necessary to preserve life, as well as
those necessary to prevent suffering. Thus callous Carl would surely constitute
a paradigm of heartlessness, even if the process of drowning, undergone by the
child he fails to rescue, were not itself a painful one. But this may only be
so (at least in the first instance) where the life in question is the life of a
rational agent. (Arguments similar to those deployed in Chapter 5 may then be
used to widen the extent of the required attitude to include all human beings.)
For recall that we are now viewing beneficence within the context of contractualism,
and that rational contractors may be expected to value their own rational
agency above all else. Moreover, recall from Chapter 3 that our reasons for
fearing death derive from the fact that we have forward-looking desires that
presuppose continued life. We would then expect rational contractors to agree
to develop a general attachment to one anotherÂ’s lives. They will then be
prepared, not only to avoid killing one another (a requirement of justice), but
also to act positively to try to prevent death where possible, grounded in a
sympathetic appreciation of the motives that rational agents have for going on
living.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂIt counts in favour of the contractualist
approach to these issues, that when we enter sympathetically into the death of
another, trying to see what their death may have meant from their point of
view, we do seem naturally to focus on those plans and projects that have now
been cut short. For this would explain the fact noted in Chapter 4, that many
people feel less sympathy - from the perspective of the one who dies - for the
death of a baby or an old person who has let go of their hold on life. For in
such cases no forward-looking motives for survival may exist. But this sort of
sympathy is only possible in respect of the death of a rational agent, since
only such an agent has long-term projects, or the desire for continued life.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂWhat emerges is this. While the fact that the
death of an animal may bring to an end a worthwhile existence and prevent
future satisfactions of desire may acquire moral importance in the context of
utilitarianism, it will lack such significance in the context of the present
character-expressive account. That someone fails to be moved by the painless
death of an animal need not display any cruelty. For there is no such thing,
here, as entering sympathetically into the reasons that the animal had for
going on living. Of course we could, if we wished, enter sympathetically into
the future pleasures and satisfactions of the animal, that have now been lost
through death. And no doubt if we were utilitarians we should be obliged to do
so, as we saw in Chapter 4. But given that this is not what sympathy for the
death of a rational agent normally amounts to, the fact that we fail to have
such feelings in connection with the death of an animal need not show that
there is anything amiss with our moral character.
Reflective equilibrium attained
I believe that the account
now sketched of our duties towards animals is sufficiently plausible to enable
us to achieve reflective equilibrium overall. First, it can explain our
common-sense belief that it is wrong to cause unnecessary suffering to an
animal, where ‘unnecessary’ means either ‘for no reason’, ‘for trivial
reasons’, or ‘for its own sake’. (In the next section I shall consider what
the implications of the account may be for practices that are more
controversial, such as hunting, factory farming, and animal experimentation.)
Second, the present approach also retains our intuitive belief that there can
be no question of weighing animal suffering against the suffering of a human
being. Since animals are still denied moral standing, on this contractualist
account, they make no direct moral claims upon us. There is therefore nothing to be weighed against the claims of a
human being. Finally, the account can retain the intuition shared by many
people (including some champions of animals like Singer, as we saw in Chapter
4), that there need be nothing wrong with causing the painless death of an animal.
Since the sort of sympathy that we should feel for the loss of a human life is
only appropriate, in the first instance, in connection with the death of a
rational agent, such actions may fail to manifest any degree of cruelty. (Some
killings may, however, be wasteful,
in the same sense that the motiveless cutting down of an oak tree may be.)
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂA further advantage of our account, is that it
can explain how people so easily come to be under the illusion, when they
engage in theoretical reflection, that animal suffering has moral standing,
mattering for its own sake. For those who have the right moral dispositions in
this area will act for the sake of the animal when prompted by feelings of
sympathy. Since right action requires that you act for the sake of the animal,
it is then easy to see how one might slip into believing that the animal itself
has moral standing. But this would be to miss the point that there may be a
variety of different levels to moral thinking.[1]
On the one hand there is the level of thought that manifests our settled moral
dispositions and attitudes (this is where sympathy for animal suffering
belongs), but on the other hand there is the level of theoretical reflection
upon those dispositions and attitudes, asking how they may be justified by an
acceptable moral theory. It is at this level that we come to realise, as
contractualists, that animals are without moral standing.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂFor similar reasons, the proposed
character-expressive account of our duties towards animals is able to avoid the
charge of absurdity often levelled at KantÂ’s somewhat similar treatment of the
issue.[2]
Kant is sometimes represented - unfairly - as claiming that those who perform
acts of kindness towards animals are merely practicing for kindness towards
humans. As if anyone ever helped an animal with such an intention! But in fact
he is best interpreted as presenting an account along the lines of that above,
which distinguishes between the motives of those who act out of the sort of
beneficent state of character they ought to have, and the theoretical
explanation of the moral value that state possesses. It is only at the latter
level that we may see the value of a sympathetic character as deriving from the
way in which it manifests itself in our treatment of human beings.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂIt therefore looks as if the present proposal
can account for every aspect of common-sense. The only apparent difficulty
remaining, is that it denies that animal suffering has moral standing. However,
this is not, properly, part of common-sense itself, but is rather a theoretical
construction upon it. Here the account can explain how we come to be under the
illusion of direct significance. The contractualist treatment of animals thus
has all the hall-marks of a powerful moral theory, acceptable under reflective
equilibrium in the absence of any more plausible proposal. It remains to
investigate the consequences of this approach for the controversial practices
of hunting, factory farming, and laboratory experimentation upon animals.
Controversial consequences
How powerful a constraint
does contractualism place on our behaviour towards animals, on the present account?
That is to say, under what circumstances is it wrong to cause suffering to an
animal, on the grounds that to do so would display cruelty or some other defect
of character? Here our earlier observation becomes important, that whether or
not a given act displays a defect may depend on the surrounding circumstances
and the motive from which the action is performed. In the case where Astrid was
adrift at sea, it was clear that no disrespect was shown to her grandfather by
cutting up his corpse for bait. But it is worth noting that a similar act may
be excusable when a great deal less than human life is at stake.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂSuppose that Candy lives with her grandfather
in a cabin in a particularly bleak part of Canada. For two months every winter
they are completely snowed in, with drifts even covering the main windows. The
only source of ventilation remaining is a small window under the eaves. Now
suppose as before that the grandfather dies, and that, as is the way of all
flesh, his body begins to decompose. In order to avoid the nauseating smell,
Candy cuts up his corpse into pieces small enough to throw out through the only
functioning window. It seems to me that she no more lays herself open to
criticism than did Astrid on her life-raft, although a great deal less than
survival is at stake.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂI think that all our judgements in such cases
make substantial psychological assumptions, concerning what actions and
attitudes are psychologically connected with, or separable from, others. We
judge that CandyÂ’s action is permissible because we think that, taken together
with its motives and circumstances, it may easily co-exist with a deep love of
her grandfather, and with a respect for humanity of whatever strength we deem
appropriate. In contrast, we think that lazy JaneÂ’s lack of preparedness to go
to the aid of the man who collapses in front of her shows a lack of compassion
that may manifest itself in other, more serious, circumstances.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂWhen we apply these ideas to actions that
cause suffering to animals, it turns out that almost any legitimate,
non-trivial, motive is sufficient to make the action separable from a generally
cruel or insensitive disposition. For example, consider technicians working in
laboratories that use animals for the testing of detergents, causing them much
suffering in the process. That they can become desensitized to animal suffering
in such a context provides little reason for thinking that they will be any
less sympathetic and generous persons outside it. Consider, also, farm-hands
working in conditions that cause considerable suffering to the animals under
their care. Again there seems no reason to think that they will thereby be more
likely to be cruel or unsympathetic when it comes to dealing with other human beings
in their society. Note that in both cases the motives from which the people in
question are acting are by no means trivial, since they are earning a
livelihood.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂIt is important to stress that the only basis
for direct moral criticism of actions such as these that cause suffering to
animals, has to do with the qualities of character manifested by the individual
actors. There is thus no scope, here, for criticising the overall practices of
factory farming and animal experimentation. (We shall return in a later section
to the argument from the legitimate concerns of animal lovers.) This point is
important because even if the reasons why we have such practices are trivial -
cheaper meat and new varieties of cosmetic - the motives of those who engage in
them are not. There is then no reason to claim that those people are cruel in
what they do.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂIt may be objected that a significant
difference between Candy, the Canadian, and the laboratory technicians is that
Candy’s action is ‘one off’, whereas the actions of the technicians are
continually being repeated. It may therefore be felt that, although the latter
actions do not in themselves display
a cruel character, they may be apt to cause
such a character, through desensitization to suffering, and may thus be morally
condemned on that basis. But I think that human beings are more discriminating
than this argument suggests. That someone can become desensitized to the
suffering of an animal need not in any way mean that they have become similarly
desensitized to the sufferings of human beings - the two things are, surely,
psychologically separable.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂHunting may present a rather different case.
For those who hunt animals for sport, rather than to feed themselves or to earn
a living, do so from motives that must certainly count as trivial in comparison
to the suffering that they cause. While the pleasures of the hunt need not be
directly sadistic - it need not be the suffering of the animal that is the
object of enjoyment - they are inseparably bound up with the enjoyment of
power, and of violent domination. (If the challenge of creeping up close to an
animal through the woods were the only pleasure, then one could just as well
hunt with a camera as a gun.) It does seem plausible that those who indulge
such pleasures may be reinforcing aspects of their characters that may unfit
them, in various ways, for their moral dealings with human beings.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂPart of the explanation for the psychological
separability that I have claimed to exist between attitudes to animal and human
suffering, lies in the obvious differences of physical form between animals and
humans. Because most animals look and behave very differently from humans, it
is easy to make and maintain a psychological distinction between oneÂ’s
attitudes to pain in the two cases. The most brutal butcher can nevertheless be
the most loving parent and sympathetic friend. For this very reason, indeed, it
seems to me (from a contractualist perspective, remember) to be a conventional,
culturally determined, matter that oneÂ’s attitudes towards animals should show
anything at all about oneÂ’s moral character, as I shall try to explain in the
next section.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂIt may be objected that peopleÂ’s attitudes to
the sufferings of different classes of human being are equally psychologically
separable. White racists who are indifferent to the sufferings of blacks, for
example, may nevertheless behave impeccably with respect to other whites. But
this is not to the point. For such people are drawing distinctions amongst
those who have moral standing, and who are therefore entitled to equal concern
and consideration. The separability between attitudes to human and animal
suffering, in contrast, is grounded in a distinction between those who have,
and those who lack, moral standing. There is therefore no direct moral
objection to those who are able to keep their attitudes to pain separate in the
two cases.
Animals and culture
There are a number of
different respects in which our particular form of society encourages a
connection between our attitudes towards animals, on the one hand, and human
beings on the other. The first is that many of us keep animals as pets. Now
people do keep some strange pets, including alligators, spiders, and stick-insects.
But in general they keep the sorts of animals that are most human, particularly
in their response to affection. In fact, we model our relationships with our
pets on our relations with other human beings, and these relationships serve
many of the same purposes of companionship and the enjoyment of shared
experience. Since we treat pets as honorary humans, as it were, it follows that
if someone can be cruel to a pet then this is fairly direct evidence of a
generally cruel disposition.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂThe second point about our society, a
correlative of the first, is that for most of us our only direct contact with animals is with pets. This is largely a
product of increasing urbanisation. It also makes contemporary Western culture
unique in all human history. In all other cultures the majority of people would
also have had extensive contact with animals in the course of their work,
whether hunting, farming, or through other forms of labour such as towing
barges and lifting weights. It cannot be an accident that our society has, in
consequence, recently seen an explosion of sentimentality towards animals.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂThe final point about our society is that we
frequently use animals as moral exemplars in the training of the young. (This
may be connected with a phenomenon we noted in Chapter 6 - namely, the extent
of anthropomorphism now present in childrenÂ’s literature.) It may be true of
many children in our society that their first introduction to moral notions is
to be told that it is cruel to pull the whiskers out of the cat. So, again, if
someone is cruel to an animal, then this is evidence that something may have
gone drastically wrong with their moral education.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂThese features of our society are highly
contingent. There may be (indeed, there are) many other societies in which
animals are not accorded these roles. In such a society a dog may be slowly
strangled to death because this is believed to make the meat taste better,
while it never occurs to the people involved that there is any connection
between what they are doing and their attitudes to human beings - indeed, there
may in fact be no such connection. While such an action performed by someone in
our society would manifest cruelty, when done by them it may not.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂIt therefore seems to me that, while
contractualism can find a place for the indirect moral significance of animals,
and for duties towards them, it is a fairly minimal and culturally determined
place. Given certain facts about our society, it may be true that some
behaviour towards animals is wrong because of what is shown about the character
of the agent. But what is shown may not be very much, in many circumstances.
And there may be other social conditions in which nothing of moral significance
would be shown at all. While contractualism is thus vindicated, in that it can
explain how there is a large element of truth in our common-sense attitudes
towards animals, at the same time little or no comfort is given to those who
would wish to extend greater moral protection to animals.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂOne question remains at this point: to what
extent is the role of animals in our particular society morally desirable? That
people need pets at all is, arguably, a product of the social alienation felt
by many people in societies as fluid and fragmentary as ours, and we could
surely engage in successful moral education of the young without using animals
as exemplars. We therefore need to look at the question whether current
attitudes towards animals may not be getting in the way of other, more
fundamental, moral concerns. I shall return to this issue in the final section
of the chapter.
Non-rational humans re-visited
The position reached above,
concerning the limitations of our obligations towards animals, would of course
carry little conviction if contractualists were forced to say similar things
about our treatment of those human beings who are not rational agents - namely,
young babies, severe mental defectives, and the very senile. For no one is
going to accept that babies may be factory farmed for their meat, or that
aggressive mental defectives may be killed in the way that one might put down a
vicious dog. Now in the final sections of Chapter 5 I presented arguments from
the danger of a slippery slope, and from social stability, for the conclusion
that all categories of human being should be accorded the same basic direct
rights. Those arguments can now be strengthened by points arising from our
present discussion of attitudes to suffering.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂNo doubt human babies, mental defectives, and
senile old people may enjoy similar levels of mental activity to animals -
frequently lower, in fact. But in other respects they will have a moral
salience that is quite different from that of animals. The crucial point is
that they share human form, and many human patterns of behaviour, with those
who are rational agents. It is no mere accident of culture or upbringing that a
crying baby, or a senile old woman moaning with the pain of terminal cancer,
can evoke our sympathy. For what is presented to our senses in these cases
differs only in slight degree from the suffering of a child or normal adult. We
should therefore expect sensitivity to the one form of suffering to be closely
psychologically connected with sensitivity to the sufferings of those human
beings who are rational agents. Someone who behaves in such a way as to be
indifferent to the suffering of a baby or a senile old lady is therefore very
wrong, because of what their behaviour reveals about their character, quite apart
from any question of infringements of rights. That they can act in such a way
is almost certain to manifest cruelty.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂThis is not to say, of course, that we need be
psychologically incapable of drawing distinctions within the category of human
beings, and of arranging our moral attitudes accordingly. On the contrary, it
is plain that many people in the course of human history have done just this.
Some of these distinctions, for example on racial or sexual grounds, mark
divisions within the class of rational agents, and may therefore be directly
condemned on grounds of justice. But the general point is that it is highly
dangerous to attempt to draw distinctions within the category of human beings
at all. Given the immense similarities of appearance and behaviour that exist
amongst all human beings, whatever their intellectual status, attempts to
ground attitudes to suffering on distinctions between them are likely to
undermine attitudes to suffering elsewhere. Those who begin by rationalising their
indifference to the sufferings of the senile may end by so warping their
attitudes and moral imagination that they become insensitive to the sufferings
of some who are, indisputably, rational agents.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂRational contractors who are trying to agree
on the rules that will assign basic rights and duties should therefore be aware
that any attempt to draw distinctions within the category of human beings may
have psychological effects that would prove morally disastrous. They should
then agree to assign basic moral rights to all human beings, irrespective of
their status as rational agents. For suppose that they were to agree on a rule
excluding mental defectives from possessing moral standing, and were thus to
allow that there is no direct moral objection to killing or hurting such a
being. This rule would clash powerfully with our natural impulse of sympathy
for the sufferings of all who share human form, and may cause the latter to be
undermined. If so, then our duties towards rational agents would also be
endangered.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂIn contrast, no similar dangers attend the
exclusion of animals from possession of moral standing. (Nor, arguably, are
there such dangers in the exclusion of human foetuses, in their early stages of
development. So abortion may remain a moral option.) For there is a large gulf,
both of physical form and modes of behaviour, between human beings and even
their closest animal cousins. A dividing line drawn here, being clear-cut, and
appealing to features that are strikingly salient, may therefore be a stable
one. For it will then be easy to create and maintain a psychological
distinction between oneÂ’s attitude towards suffering in the two cases.
Indirect arguments again
Let us review our
conclusions thus far. Since animals are not rational agents, they will not, in
the first instance at least, be accorded direct moral rights under
contractualism. But then nor are there slippery slope or social stability
arguments for granting them such rights. Animals have indirect moral significance
nevertheless, in virtue of the qualities of moral character they may evoke in
us. Actions involving animals that are expressive of a bad moral character are
thereby wrong. Because attitudes to animal and human suffering may be readily
psychologically separated, however, the constraints so far placed on our
treatment of animals are minimal ones. All that follows is that it is wrong (in
our culture) to cause suffering to an animal for trivial reasons, or to obtain
sadistic pleasure.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂIt seems that nothing bad need be displayed in
the moral character of someone whose job involves testing detergents on
animals, or in farm-hands whose practices cause suffering to the animals under
their care (provided, at least, that they try to minimise the pain that they
cause, in so far as this can be done without great cost to themselves). Nor
need there be anything amiss with the characters of those who employ such
people, since their motive will generally be to retain the profitability and
competitiveness of their business, which is certainly not trivial. So in all
such cases, there is neither a direct moral objection (no rights are
infringed), nor is there any indirect moral objection arising out of a
judgement on the character of the agent. Even in the case of activities, such
as hunting, where there is a moral objection on grounds of character, it would
hardly be permissible to intervene, as do hunt saboteurs. For we do not think
it right, in general, that we should try to force people to change their
characters, in advance of them performing actions that constitute infringements
of right. For example, even if there were reliable psychological tests for
aggressiveness, we surely would not think it right that those who score highly
in such tests should be required to undergo treatment, in advance of evidence
of actual violent behaviour towards others.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂThere remains, however, the question of the
likely offence to animal lovers, discussed in Chapter 5. While this was
rejected at the time as an adequate basis on which to ground all moral duties
towards animals, it might still be re-introduced, at this point, as an argument
for forbidding hunting, factory farming, and many forms of animal
experimentation. For it now emerges that there is a major difference between
this sort of offence, and the offence caused to prudish people by the thought
of unusual sexual practices. This is because distress at the thought of an
animal suffering is a response that we may want people to have, if the argument
of this chapter has been sound. It is a response that both manifests and
reinforces an admirably sympathetic character. Sexual prudery, in contrast, has
no particular moral worth. So while the retort ‘If it upsets you, don’t think
about itÂ’ may be appropriate for the latter group, it is not appropriate for
the former. The concern of animal lovers for the sufferings of animals is not
only legitimate, but expressive of a morally admirable state of character. We
may wonder, then, whether this is sufficient to render such practices as
hunting and factory farming morally unacceptable - not because of any
infringement of animal rights, but because those practices are insufficiently
respectful of the concerns of animal lovers.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂSome might be puzzled at how I can claim, on
the one hand, that sympathy for animal suffering is expressive of an admirable
state of character and yet claim, on the other, that those who become
desensitized to such suffering in the course of their work need not thereby
display any weakness in their character. How can I have it both ways? The
answer is that the contexts are different in the two cases. Those who become
distressed when they think of the animals suffering in our factory farms and
experimental laboratories do so, as it were, in the abstract - in independence
from any further morally significant purpose. Those who become desensitized to
that very same suffering, on the other hand, do so in the context of earning a
living. Roughly speaking, the position to emerge from this chapter is that
sensitivity to animal suffering is admirable when, and only when, it fails to
interfere with purposes that are morally significant in a more direct sense.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂBut now we have a difficulty. For the proposal
that factory farming and animal experimentation should be forbidden because
they encroach on the sensibilities of animal lovers, means that those feelings would be interfering with morally
significant purposes, namely the purposes of earning a living and of
maintaining a viable business. In this case it would seem that the latter must
take priority. It is too much to demand that people should forgo employment out
of respect for the feelings of animal lovers, just as it is too much to demand
that the owner of an ancient building should do without a habitable residence
out of respect for the feelings of those who would not wish to see the building
altered. If the legitimate feelings of animal lovers are to have any important
place in this debate, it will not be as a ground for criticising the individual
practitioners, but rather as a basis for criticism of the practice as a whole.
What might be claimed is that, out of respect for these feelings, the
organisation of our society should be altered so that it has no need of
practices that cause suffering to animals on a regular basis - where the
changes should include compensation for those who might lose employment or
income as a result.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂWe are now brought back to the question of
public policy we left open earlier - namely, whether we want to encourage and
reinforce the psychological connection that already exists, in our culture,
between attitudes to animal and human suffering. Or is this connection already
too strong, so that there is a moral case for trying to weaken it? As we noted
earlier, there are forces in our culture that are responsible for this
connection, and arguably these forces are increasing. With increasing wealth,
and yet increasing social alienation, more and more people are keeping pets.
And young children are increasingly exposed to forms of entertainment in which
anthropomorphic treatments of animals are rife. Yet there are no particular
moral gains in this tendency. On the contrary. To restrict current patterns of
treatment of animals out of respect for the sensibilities of animal lovers
would only reinforce a trend that has considerable moral costs.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂThere would be economic and social costs of
placing further restrictions on our treatment of animals, particularly if
factory farming and scientific experiments on animals were forbidden. But I do
not wish to focus especially on these. More important, is that the cost of
increasing concern with animal welfare is to distract attention from the needs
of those who certainly do have moral standing - namely, human beings. We live
on a planet where millions of our fellow humans starve, or are near starving,
and where many millions more are under-nourished. In addition, the twin perils
of pollution and exhaustion of natural resources threaten the futures of ourselves
and our descendants. It is here that moral attention should be focussed.
Concern with animal welfare, while expressive of states of character that are
admirable, is an irrelevance to be opposed rather than encouraged. Our response
to animal lovers should not be ‘If it upsets you, don’t think about it’, but
rather ‘If it upsets you, think about something more important’.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂIt may be objected that it is always possible
to think about both. It might be
claimed, indeed, that increased concern for animals will help to foster the
attitudes of general sympathy and respect for the environment that will be
necessary in tackling the worldÂ’s wider problems. But in fact, much of the
moral energy currently spent in defence of animals has been diverted from other
domains. Amongst those who campaign actively on behalf of animals, indeed, the
feelings of sympathy that motivate their actions have ceased to be morally
admirable, precisely because those feelings have been allowed to get in the way
of concerns that are more directly morally significant. Moreover, there is no
way in which we can, as contractualists, tell ourselves a plausible story in
which increased concern for animals will be morally beneficial. For we ought to
be able to see clearly that it is only the sufferings of humans that have moral
standing, and that have direct moral significance irrespective of facts about
character. In which case, increased feelings of sympathy for animals can only
serve to undermine our judgements of relative importance, having the same moral
effect as decreased concern for
humans. So if contractualism provides us with the best framework for moral
theory, as I have argued that it does, then we should wish to roll back the
tide of current popular concern with animal welfare.
Summary
Contractualism withholds
direct moral rights from animals, while at the same time granting them to all
human beings. Yet contractualism can explain our common-sense belief that
animals should not be caused to suffer for trivial reasons, since causing such
suffering is expressive of a cruel character. This position is sufficiently
plausible to be acceptable under reflective equilibrium. But the constraints
thus justified are minimal. Contractualism certainly provides no support for
those who would wish to extend still further the moral protection already
available to animals.