PROLEGOMENON

For I will consider my cat Jeoffry.

For he is the servant of the Living God, duly and daily serving him.

For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.

For is this done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.

For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the blessing of God upon his prayer.

For he rolls upon prank to work it in.

For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself.

For this he performs in ten degrees.

For first he looks upon his forepaws to see if they are clean.

For secondly he kicks up behind to clear away there.

For thirdly he works it upon stretch with the forepaws extended.

For fourthly he sharpens his paws by wood.

For fifthly he washes himself.

For sixthly he rolls upon wash.

For seventhly he fleas himself, that he may not be interrupted upon the beat.

For eighthly he rubs himself against a post.

For ninthly he looks up for his instructions.

For tenthly he goes in quest of food.

For having considered God and himself he will consider his neighbour.

For if he meets another cat he will kiss her in kindness.

For when he takes his prey he plays with it to give it chance.

For one mouse in seven escapes by his dallying.

For when his day’s work is done his business more properly begins.

For he keeps the Lord’s watch in the night against the adversary.

For he counteracts the powers of darkness by his electrical skin and

glaring eyes.

For he counteracts the Devil, who is death, by brisking about the life.

For in his morning orisons he loves the sun and the sun loves him.

For he is of the tribe of Tiger.

For the Cherub Cat is a term of the Angel Tiger.

For he has the subtlety and hissing of a serpent, which in goodness he suppresses.

For he will not do destruction, if he is well fed, neither will he spit without provocation.

For he purrs in thankfulness, when God tell him he’s a good Cat.

For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.

For every house is incomplete without him and a blessing is lacking in the spirit.

For the Lord commanded Moses concerning the cats at the departure of the Children of Israel from Egypt.

For every family had one cat at least in the bag.

For the English Cats are the best in Europe.

For he is the cleanest in the use of his forepaws of any quadruped.

For the dexterity of his defense is an instance of the love of God to

him exceedingly.

For he is the quickest to his mark of any creature.

For he is tenacious of his point.

For he is a mixture of gravity and waggery.

For he knows that God is his Saviour.

For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.

For there is nothing brisker than his life when in motion.

For he is of the Lord’s poor and so indeed is he called by benevolence perpetually

—Poor Jeoffry! poor Jeoffry! the rat has bit thy throat.

For I bless the name of the Lord Jesus that Jeoffry is better.

For the divine spirit comes about his body to sustain it in complete cat.

For his tongue is exceeding pure so that it has in purity what it wants in music.

For he is docile and can learn certain things.

For he can set up with gravity, which is patience upon approbation.

For he can fetch and carry, which is patience in employment.

For he can jump over a stick, which is patience upon proof positive.

For he can spraggle upon waggle at the word of command.

For he can jump from an eminence into his master’s bosom.

For he can catch the cork and toss it again.

For he is hated by the hypocrite and miser.

For the former is afraid of detection.

For the latter refuses the charge.

For he camels his back to bear on the first notion of business.

For he is good to think on, if a man would express himself neatly.

For he made a great figure in Egypt for his signal services.

For he killed the ichneumon–rat very pernicious by land.

For his ears are so acute that they sting again.

For from this proceeds the passing quickness of his attention.

For by stroking him I have found out electricity.

For I perceived God’s light about him both wax and fire.

For the electrical fire is the spiritual substance, which God sends from heaven to sustain the bodies both of man and beast.

For God has blessed him in the variety of his movements.

For, though he cannot fly, he is an excellent clamberer.

For his motions upon the face of the earth are more than any other quadruped.

For he can tread to all the measures upon the music.

For he can swim for life.

For he can creep.

Christopher Smart (1722–1771)[1]

PART ONE: FRAMING AN ENQUIRY

Chapter One
THE INITIAL QUESTION

________________________________________________________

This enquiry will soon give ‘considering’ Jeoffry a technical meaning in addition to any (likely sense) intended by Smart, and many of the reasons for considering Jeoffry will acquire special significance. But, for now, in the everyday sense, consider another cat, Trilby, who shared my desk throughout much of the enquiry. Trilby was abandoned on the freeway, soon after giving birth, and taken to a humane society. Only last–minute adoption saved a withdrawn ‘unadoptable’ cat from euthanasia when space was needed for new arrivals. Later, when Trilby was deathly ill at 3 a.m., the animal hospital offered to euthanise her on credit, but they wanted cash or a charge card for treatment. Years later, the neighbours clearly thought sorrow misplaced when hungry coyotes ended her life.

Trilby illustrates how nonhumans, in themselves, are traditionally granted little moral importance: their suffering matters to some, but obviously not everyone, and their lives are deemed of small consequence. When simpler creatures than cats are in question, there is thought to be even less basis for moral concern, and it is broadly accepted that where the capacity for suffering ends, so, too, does any possibility of a thing being morally important in itself.

But is this the best that rational morality can do to protect other creatures and the nonhuman world in general? Not everyone is satisfied, and the question, Which entities, and kinds of entities, are morally important in themselves?, is becoming a central and controversial one in ethics. This question may also be phrased as metaphors, How broad is the moral umbrella?, How big is the moral franchise?, or, in terms used in the current philosophical literature, Which entities, and kinds of entities, possess ‘moral standing’ or are ‘morally considerable’.

However it is framed, I shall call this ‘the initial question’. This enquiry will offer a critical exploration of the major answers to the initial question currently proposed by academic philosophy, explore the impasse which develops between those positions, and tentatively outline a possible reconciliation project. To begin the task, I shall briefly sketch the initial question’s provenance, then describe a terminology to use in discussing it. That should make good my claim that the question is a central one and will introduce the issues it raises.

SOURCES OF CONCERN

‘Animal Rights’

Perhaps the most prominent source of both popular and philosophical interest in the initial question is the ‘animal rights’ literature and movement. One measure of the movement is the way consumer resistance is persuading manufacturers to reduce product testing on live subjects and the growing hostility to methods used in raising nonhumans for food.[2] As we shortly find, contemporary moral philosophy supports this concern for nonhuman welfare by arguing that creatures capable of suffering also warrant moral concern. But why is widespread interest in nonhuman welfare developing now, when moral philosophy is already thousands of years old? In part, utilitarian moral theory is surely responsible. But what else has influenced the Zeitgeist?

Technology

Part of the answer appears to be a growing sense that humans are only one life form amongst many others, and are not quite so special, or so entitled to privilege, as most ethics and religions have traditionally taught. Alongside this development, and perhaps partly causative of it, there is also a growing perception that human kind has developed technology so powerful that it stands in immediate need of careful direction and control.[3] In particular, as technology expands, human kind increases its ability to sustain, destroy, and modify entities. Within the lifetimes of school children, entities once well beyond human influence have been adversely affected. The once ubiquitous butterfly has almost vanished from English gardens, and environmentalists are arguing that the temperate rain forest of the Canadian west–coast is similarly endangered, to take just two examples. Closer to home, perhaps, we in the industrial nations eat increasingly modified foods thanks to intensive farming and manipulation of food products. And our families are shaped by medical technologies which support previously unviable babies and offer controlled reproduction.

The visibility of this burgeoning power, plus its potential to harm both us and our environment, seems to be accompanied by a gathering sense that humans must use technology responsibly. But if technology is to be used responsibly, then it would help to have an ethic capable of guiding us, and one job that ethic must do is identify whom or what moral agents are responsible to. Taking the butterfly example, are we responsible to those who can no longer enjoy butterflies in their gardens, or to future generations who may never see wild butterflies, or, perhaps, to the butterflies themselves?

The Abortion Debate

In bio–medical ethics, the controversy consequent on improved abortion techniques has given its own impetus to the initial question, with fetal moral status becoming a central issue. Although at least one philosopher has sought to argue that fetal moral status is not the central issue of the abortion debate,[4] the provocative originality of that claim has hardly slowed the search for an account of moral standing. This enquiry will not be concerned with the abortion debate or fetal moral status per se, but a significant part of the argumentation we must deal with has its origins in the search for a principled way of assigning fetal moral status.[5]

Ecosophy

A third ‘high–profile’ source of interest in the initial question is environmental degradation. Environmental concern has occasioned a recent marriage between the science of ecology and philosophy, giving us what some call ‘ecosophy’, or ‘ecological wisdom’. The issues germane to ecosophy may not yet be so philosophically popular as the abortion debate, but the attention paid them is growing rapidly. In both philosophy and the press, ecosophy’s concern for dwindling trees, dying waters, and dead species is an increasingly prominent theme.

But despite their shared concern, ecosophy and the popular press tend to view environmental issues quite differently, and the difference is significant for this enquiry. Popular environmental concern usually runs alongside an attempt to justify itself by reference to the long–term benefits which environmental ‘resources’ offer humankind. Where would we be without them? is the refrain.[6] Occasionally, someone suggests that concern might be justified on aesthetic grounds, but that only offers another version of the ‘resource’ argument.[7]

By contrast, much ecosophical argument is designed to show why natural entities are morally important for their own sakes, not just for ours. Arne Naess (who coined the term ‘ecosophy’ and initiated ‘deep ecology’) has written that, “Every living being should have an equal right to live and flourish.”[8], and many ecosophists go on to offer reasons for extending moral concern to non–living things as well. It is the philosophical distance between this desideratum and the traditional concern for human welfare (and, perhaps, the welfare of other sufficiently sentient creatures) which will prove a major impediment to univocally answering the initial question.[9]

FOUR KINDS OF ANSWER

A Taxonomy

Contemporary academic philosophy is responding to these concerns with a variety of what I call ‘accounts of moral scope’ offering principled answers to the initial question. A preview of what they involve, beginning with a simple taxonomy, will provide a handy context for future discussion.

If the various accounts are arranged according to increasing generosity of scope, they form four main groups. Each one offers a distinct kind of answer to the initial question which is supported by particular theoretical considerations, and — with two minor exceptions — each more generous group completely overlaps its predecessors.[10] Thus, the different ranges of entities protected by the accounts of moral scope may be thought as four concentric circles. (In keeping with Peter Singer’s ‘expanding circle’ metaphor, and with opening up the ‘moral umbrella’ which gives this work its title.) Here is a brief introduction to the four kinds of account with reference to some principle exponents whose work will be discussed later:[11]

· HUMANISM offers a range of finely differentiated positions. Their essential similarity is that human characteristics which are not (thought to be) shared with other creatures are made the basis of the moral franchise. A. I. Melden will be the main exponent of humanism discussed here. Humanism is sometimes called ‘speciesism’, but the term is perjorative.[12]

· SENTIENTISM, roughly speaking, enfranchises all creatures capable of suffering. Jeremy Bentham is widely regarded as the first sentientist. William Frankena, Tom Regan, Peter Singer, Geoffrey Warnock and a number of other contemporary moral philosophers are also sentientists. It is a popular, ‘liberal’ view, and perhaps the nearest that philosophy comes to a current consensus on the initial question. The name ‘sentientism’ is common in the literature.[13]

· VITALISM enfranchises all living individuals, hence the name of this account. Kenneth Goodpaster provides a pioneering defense of vitalism; more recent and more detailed accounts are offered by Holmes Rolston III and Paul W. Taylor.

· ECOSOPHISM takes vitalism a step further, enfranchising species and ecosystems as well as (what are usually thought of as) individual organisms. Some ecosophists argue that there are even non–living, naturally occurring entities which warrant consideration. Holmes Rolston III offers a seamless progression from vitalism to a form of ecosophism; the deep ecologist Arne Naess is best characterised as an ecosophist, and so is his interpreter Warwick Fox. As the name suggests, ecosophism is informed primarily by environmental and ecological concern.[14]

For reasons I shall not attempt to anticipate, but which will soon become clear as the enquiry develops, it will be convenient to think of humanism and sentientism as jointly forming a ‘movement from interest’, and to think of vitalism and ecosophism as jointly forming a ‘movement from ecology’. Hence the names given to Parts Two and Three of the enquiry.

Explaining The Clustering

This clustering into four main kinds of account is by no means an inevitable consequence of trying to answer the initial question, so why does it occur? Part of the answer is that the theoretical considerations which support each account are sufficient to enfranchise many different kinds of entity. For example, if we quit humanism because nonhuman suffering seems morally significant, it is difficult to provide principled, persuasive reasons for limiting moral concern to a particular group of sentient nonhumans rather than to all creatures capable of suffering. It is as though the moral umbrella sticks when we try to open it, then opens with a rush when we apply enough force. But the umbrella soon sticks again: the other half of the answer is that the theoretical considerations which support expansion falter, or fail to have relevance altogether, three times.

The Three Major Breaks

These breaks in the movement for expansion are the source (and, arguably, the result) of fundamental moral disagreement, and it is the debate about them which is the main business of my enquiry.

Contemporary sentientism attempts to overcome the first break primarily by appealing to the moral relevance of all psychologically grounded interests notwithstanding who, or what, may hold them. Later, I shall argue that a fundamental moral disagreement continues to separate humanism and sentientism despite the work which sentientists have done to ensure a smooth transition.

The second break — between sentientism and vitalism — is currently a major source of controversy. To understand why, think of sentientism as extending consideration to all entities capable of experiencing what is done to them, things to whom what we do matters.[15] Vitalism finds this insufficient, citing reasons to extend moral protection to non–sentient living things to which nothing matters, or ever could. A tree is the usual example of vitalist concern. Leaving aside the interest which any sentient creature may have in a tree, humanists and sentientists wonder how can it matter morally what we do to one when it does not, and cannot possibly, matter to the tree itself.

Vitalist answers tend to leave humanists and sentientists bemused: until now, moral concern has always been limited to organisms with some psychological capacity, and, seemingly quite suddenly, vitalists (and ecosophists) are claiming other relevant qualities. Thus, the separation between sentientism and vitalism— which I shall call the ‘mattering gap’ — is profound. To those on the sentientist side of the gap it appears an unbridgable chasm whereas to those on the vitalist side it seems largely irrelevant.

The final break — between vitalism and ecosophism — is currently causing less argument than the mattering gap; however, if enough people become persuaded that the mattering gap is crossable, then the split between vitalism and ecosophism may become a major issue. This is because whereas humanism, sentientism, and vitalism are almost exclusively concerned with morally significant individuals (according to an ‘every day’, ‘common sense’ view of what individuals are) ecosophism extends to systems (on an ‘every day’ understanding). This not only enfranchises morally novel kinds of entities, it also alters the nature of moral conflict. How, for example, should we balance the reasons for logging a watershed (thus keeping a community of loggers and mill workers in business) with the reasons for preserving that watershed as an intact ecosystem? As we shall find later, it is not even clear that the bases of these two different concerns are commensurable.

Radical Disagreement

Disagreement over these issues is profound, and dispute over the initial question is sometimes bitter, with the ‘principle of charity’ often observed in the breach. In conversation, I have heard humanists discuss sentientism as though it were unintelligible, and, in the literature, sentientists treat humanism with scant regard. Each sees the other as making a bewildering ‘error’, rather than diverging from a common tradition in a comprehensible if wrong–headed way. Between humanists and ecosophists, misunderstanding is almost guaranteed.[16] Two general points about this high level of misunderstanding and incomprehension also warrant advance billing.

An Evolutionary Process

First, debate over the initial question may be viewed as one aspect of an evolutionary process in which morality is adapting to the newly acquired powers I mentioned earlier. Lacking traditions adequate to guide us we are trying to re–shape, extend, and develop existing moral notions as seems most appropriate. But what seems necessary or appropriate to you may not seem so to me, and our shared guidelines hardly extend so far as the problems we are dealing with.

In consequence, there is not only a pressing need to develop an ethic capable of guiding our new powers; there is also a particular need to ensure that accompanying claims about the size of the moral umbrella are supported by arguments and reasons of a kind which others can be expected to follow and understand. This pursuit of grounds for moral expansion which are capable of commanding broad understanding, and which can then be presented as worthy of acceptance by all moral agents, will be a recurrent theme in the discussion which follows.

A Fundamental Issue

Second, it will become apparent during this enquiry that each of the main accounts of moral scope is predicated on a particular understanding of morality’s informing purpose and aims. These views of morality are ‘fundamental’, in the sense that no more deep–seated justification of them is available. This entails that any attempt to offer deductive support for an account of moral scope quickly becomes question begging. But the alternative, which is to set forth the particular virtues of an account, may well fail to satisfy, or even be fully comprehended by, critics who hold very different views. This problem, too, will be a recurrent theme. It will emerge as a major obstacle to the broad understanding mentioned above.

THE ORDER OF THEIR GOING

Conducting An Impartial, Critical Exploration

It remains to make some brief comments about the way this enquiry will be conducted. In the interest of impartiality, I must try to set aside my own bias. I would like to find that there are adequate moral resources for crossing the mattering gap and, ideally, moving all the way to ecosophism. But this desire is based on love for the nonhuman world more than on the kind of philosophical considerations which are needed here. In order to try to obviate bias and discover morally sound reasons for expansion, I shall seek to sketch the strongest available case for each expansive step, then attempt to take the view of a conservative critic in probing its weaknesses. My hope is that this will reveal both the strengths and weaknesses of the different positions while neutralising my partisan tendencies.

A Minor Theme

But the policy has a drawback. Given that there are problems inherent in current attempts to answer the initial question, the approach will not yield the case for extensive moral expansion which I want to see established. At the end of the enquiry, in Part Four, I shall sketch the outlines of an alternative way of treating the initial question which offers some hope of reconciliation between the disputants. Then I shall ask briefly how generous an answer to the initial question that approach might sustain. However, I stress, now, that neither reconciliation nor an alternative account of moral scope is this enquiry’s purpose. What I have to say in Part Four is tentative and at times speculative in nature. The informing task remains a relatively non–partisan, critical appraisal of representative expositions of the four accounts of moral scope.

Three Omissions

It should also be noted that the enquiry involves some omissions which, if unremarked, could cause confusion or concern. First, little reference will be made to virtue–based systems of ethics. This is because a virtue–based approach to morality entails no particular answer to the initial question and is compatible with any of the four main accounts. Virtue–based ethics offer a catalogue of human characteristics and qualities which are a recipe for ‘being a good human being’ or ‘living the good life’, and it is theoretically possible to construct the recipe in accordance with any chosen account.

The second omission is that nothing said here is intended to answer the question, Why be moral? I am assuming that a desire to act morally is a pre–requisite for interest in the initial question, and I am writing for those already persuaded of the reasonableness of acting morally. If the enquiry began with the need to justify morality per se, I doubt that we would ever get to the initial question.[17]

Third, and finally, the enquiry will not discuss ecofeminism. This is not meant to disparage ecofeminism’s important attempt to link environmental issues to a broader pattern of patriarchal attitudes and behaviour. However, it does indicate that ecofeminism tends not to address the initial question directly so much as assume an expanded moral umbrella as a theoretical starting point.[18]

THE LANGUAGE OF CONSIDERATION

A Claim To Be Considered

We now need a definitive statement of the initial question and of the central terms which will be used to discuss it. Although the synonyms and metaphors I have used so far will continue to have a place in the enquiry, their meaning needs to be anchored more precisely. I shall do this by adopting what I call ‘the language of consideration’. Its origins are in an oft–quoted passage by G. J. Warnock:[19]

Let us consider the question to whom principles of morality apply from, so to speak, the other end — from the standpoint not of the agent, but of the “patient”. What, we may ask here, is the condition of moral relevance? What is the condition of having a claim to be considered by rational agents to whom moral principles apply?

The “question to whom principles of morality apply” is, of course, the initial question by another name. And the clear sense of Warnock’s discussion is that an unstated proviso applies: the question is only concerned with entities which have “moral relevance” or “a claim to be considered” in (and of) themselves. This proviso is significant, as an example shows.

Suppose that my neighbour is a Cartesian who thinks that cats are morally uninteresting stimulus response mechanisms. Even so, she is kind to my cat out of regard for me. By her kindness, my neighbour does not confer any moral status on the cat because her concern is for me alone; the cat is merely instrumental to my well being. This is a crucially important point, and I shall repeat it. My neighbour only accords the cat “moral relevance” or “a claim to be considered” in the sense of the initial question if she takes account of the cat ‘for its own sake’, or ‘in its own right’. With this restriction in view, I shall adopt the following definitive statement of the initial question:

The INITIAL QUESTION asks, If an action, A, will affect an entity, E, what must E be like, in (and of) itself, in order to provide reason for moral agents to take the affect of A on E into account when deciding how to act?

Defining The Central Terms

Amongst those who take up this challenge, Kenneth E. Goodpaster is the first to focus explicitly on the conditions which must be met in order for something to be deemed “morally considerable”.[20] ‘Morally considerable’ and two important related terms may be defined as follows:

E is MORALLY CONSIDERABLE if and only if there is sufficient moral reason to take E into account when making a decision which will affect E, and that reason is grounded in concern for E in itself.

If and only if E is morally considerable then E has MORAL STANDING. (Something which is considerable has moral standing; moral standing is the quality of being considerable.)

To treat E as a morally considerable entity is to extend E MORAL CONSIDERATION. (Something which is taken into account, ‘for its own sake’, thereby receives moral consideration.)

The definition of ‘morally considerable’ also makes it possible to state the initial question more briefly while retaining its precise meaning:

The INITIAL QUESTION asks: Which entities, and kinds of entities, are MORALLY CONSIDERABLE?

It is these definitions and this version of the initial question which are the basis for the language of consideration. Two further points need to be made about them. First, although it is certainly most natural to say that there is reason to take account of something ‘for its own sake’, or ‘in its own right’, and it may even appear clumsy and pedantic to speak of an entity warranting moral concern “in (and of) itself”, it is necessary to phrase the initial definitions with care. For example, it is highly questionable whether a non–sentient organism, like a tree, has a ‘sake’ of its own, but it is as yet an open question whether such things warrant consideration. Similarly, the applicability of rights is arguably quite restricted. Once the language of consideration is clearly founded, however, more everyday ways of speaking may be adopted where appropriate.[21] Second, ‘moral standing’ is sometimes referred to by its synonym ‘moral considerability’ in the literature (most notably by Goodpaster), but I shall use only the former term.[22]

THE PROBLEM WITH RIGHTS

Rights Won’t Cross The Mattering Gap

My intention to use the language of consideration may prompt an objection from rights–theorists. Rights–based arguments have made a significant contribution to the literature on moral standing, and it may be said that investigating rights would be more perspicuous than discussing the basis of moral consideration. However, rights are problematic in the context of the initial question.

If we ask, What kind of entities warrant rights? rather than, Which entities are considerable?, moral expansion, particularly beyond the mattering gap, is made more difficult. This is because the paradigm rights–bearer is a ‘normally’ functioning adult human, and the further away from that paradigm something is, the more questionable rights–ascriptions become.[23]Although we are accustomed to ‘animal rights’, they are usually associated with the higher mammals, and current usage and rights–theory do not easily permit rights ascriptions to be made much lower on the phylogenetic scale than mammals. On a standard interpretation, rights run as far as the mattering gap at best.

The Need For Neutrality

This limitation is crucially important for vitalists and ecosophists, who want to enfranchise organisms and entities quite unlike humans. It is difficult enough to argue that nonsentient life is considerable without having to claim, for example, that ‘carrots have rights’. In consequence, doing justice to vitalism and ecosophism means not presenting or discussing their claims in terms of rights. And that entails conducting at least half of this enquiry without using a rights vocabulary. Given the need to compare the claims of positions on opposite sides of the mattering gap, there is no way the enquiry can become ‘bilingual’, so a single, theory–neutral vocabulary is needed. (Any vocabulary that is not theory–neutral has scant hope of being accepted by all parties.) The language of ‘moral consideration’ fits the bill, and I doubt whether any other common terminology is able to state without prejudice the claims of humanists (who think that moral standing requires the possession of what will shortly be introduced as ‘narrow rights’), of sentientists (who think that being considerable requires the possession of psychological interests and ‘wide rights’), and of vitalists and ecosophists, (who disagree with both parties). For this reason alone, the language of consideration must be the language of enquiry into moral scope.

A Positive Consequence

While this makes the negative case for preferring the language of consideration (Here is a need; what else meets it?), the positive aspect of my choice is also worth stressing. When we ask whether something is morally considerable, there is no possible built–in presupposition that considerable entities must possess a particular quality of any sort: the only pre–requisite for considering something is a morally good reason to do so, and a substantive argument must always be offered for linking moral standing to any particular quality. In consequence, the language of consideration minimises the danger of inadvertently begging the question we want to answer.[24]

SEEKING A RAPPROCHEMENT

Giving Rights–Theory Its Due

But rights–theory cannot be simply dismissed. If justice is to be seen to be done to rights–based humanist and sentientist accounts of moral scope then a rapprochement with rights–theory is needed. A basis for one is suggested by a critical reading of Kenneth E. Goodpaster’s brief but fertile attempt to free vitalism from rights–based hindrance to moral expansion. He draws a distinction between two different senses of ‘rights’ which can be adapted to our present requirements. There is a “narrower” sense in which rights are roughly restricted to humans, and a “wider” sense in which rights can be enjoyed by other organisms.[25] Because Goodpaster’s discussion is very brief, the nature of this distinction is best elucidated by looking at his choice of theorists who exemplify the two senses.

Narrow Rights

Goodpaster’s advocate for narrow rights is John Passmore. Discussing the immorality of being cruel to nonhumans, Passmore says that cruelty is wrong because, “...callousness, an insensibility to suffering, is a moral defect in a human being.”[26] He claims that nonhumans cannot possibly be protected from ill–treatment by granting them rights:[27]

The idea of “rights” is simply not applicable to what is non–human...It is one thing to say that it is wrong to treat animals cruelly, quite another to say that animals have rights.

The problem is that rights must be grounded by membership in a cooperative community, and cooperation is only possible between those who have mutual interests and who recognise mutual obligations. If we follow Passmore, then,

NARROW RIGHTS are those which have a roughly ‘communitarian’ or ‘contractarian’ basis; they are ‘rights’ to the goods and kinds of treatment which facilitate mutually beneficial association.

For example, if beneficial cooperative endeavours require, for example, freedom from physical assault, then that right is granted to community members; otherwise, it is not. Thus, narrow rights contrast sharply with the language of consideration. Because there are no initial constraints at all on the kind of entity which can be deemed considerable, ‘moral consideration’ is a weaker notion than ‘narrow right’, and so the number of considerable entities is potentially much larger than the number of narrow rights holders.

With this basis for separation established, Goodpaster invites us to set aside the unprofitable question “whether...the class of rights–bearers is, or ought to be, restricted to human beings” in favour of a more rewarding enquiry into the conditions of ‘consideration’.[28] However, although this enquiry has already agreed to focus on, Which entities are considerable?, rather than on, Which entities are narrow rights bearers?, Goodpaster’s proposal goes too far. He is setting aside the latter question as altogether irrelevant to his (and our) enquiry. This dismisses the substantive claims of traditional, humanist rights–theorists, who link moral standing to the possession of rights grounded in community membership, and it is contrary to a policy of neutrality.[29] Humanism’s claims must be given a fair hearing. In consequence, the first step towards a rapprochement with rights–theory is to temper our insistence on the language of consideration with an assurance that the humanist position will be examined prior to drawing any conclusions about its relevance.

Wide Rights

Turning to wide rights, Goodpaster cites Joel Feinberg (who was the first contemporary philosopher to seek comprehensive criteria of moral standing) as someone who ascribes ‘rights’ in the widest sense.[30] Feinberg asks what sort of entities “the principles of an enlightened conscience” must recognise as having claims “to something and against someone” who is a moral agent.[31] He calls these claims ‘moral rights’. They range from a right to “careful treatment” to a right to life. Almost any service which a moral agent can render is a candidate for a moral right and, in this sense at least, Feinberg subscribes to a very wide notion of ‘rights’.

Feinberg grounds rights by invoking what he calls the “interest principle”:[32]

...the sorts of beings who can have rights are precisely those who have (or can have) interests. I have come to this tentative conclusion for two reasons: (1) because a right holder must be capable of being represented and it is impossible to represent a being that has no interests, and (2) because a right holder must be capable of being a beneficiary in his own person, and a being without interests is a being that is incapable of being benefited, having no good or “sake” of its own.

This summarises a view of rights which is compatible with a broadly utilitarian view of right action: rights are grounded in interests, and interests are grounded in a capacity for benefits and harms. But the interest principle by itself is not the whole of Feinberg’s story. As Goodpaster notes, Feinberg almost immediately goes on to link interests to desires and aims.[33] In this, Feinberg foreshadows a requirement which later writers will state with certainty, and which has always been part of the utilitarian view: wide rights are grounded in interests which have a psychological component.

Of course, this last requirement promises to block moral expansion beyond the mattering gap as thoroughly as equating moral standing with the possession of narrow rights.[34] However, Goodpaster rejects the psychological interpretation of interests in favour of one which would allow all living organisms to possess them. Consequently, Goodpaster is willing to equate moral standing with the possession of rights in the widest sense, thus subsuming wide rights within the language of consideration. He offers this as the additional justification needed for eschewing any discussion of rights.[35]

The Heart Of The Rapprochement

Should this enquiry follow Goodpaster? Given that, in the literature on moral standing, ‘interests’ are almost universally understood and justified in psychological terms, it seems inadvisable to defy the tide. However, if we allow utilitarians like Feinberg to claim ‘interest’ as their own, then this enquiry cannot follow Goodpaster in assuring wide rights–theorists that rights bearers and considerable entities are one and the same.

We shall need an alternative policy. I propose that arguments about moral standing which use the vocabulary of wide rights be discussed in that vocabulary, but that the conclusions be translated into the language of consideration. This can be done according to the principle that a claim to (or a restriction on) moral standing which is based on the possession (or the absence) of a wide right is equivalent to a claim (or a restriction) based directly on the underlying reasons cited for granting (or denying) the right. This seems an equitable solution because all rights–ascriptions must have a rationale, and it is that rationale which is the final ground of any rights–based assertion about moral standing. In consequence, it is the rationale rather than the right which is of interest here.

The same policy can be extended to narrow rights, which means that all rights–based claims to moral standing can be evaluated according to the final reasons for ascribing the right. If the policy is coupled with a promise to give both kinds of rights–based arguments about moral scope a fair hearing, then it provides the rapprochement with rights theory which this enquiry needs.

What I Understand By A ‘Right’

So far, I have discussed the relationship between rights and consideration without saying explicitly what I think a ‘right’ is. Although I do not want to probe deeply into the nature of rights, a brief statement may prove helpful. Partly to achieve consistency across the different accounts of right, and partly because I find that doing so makes good sense, I understand ‘right’ as follows:[36]

A RIGHT is either a generally established and accepted (i.e. a ‘valid’ ) claim to certain goods or treatment, or it is a claim which those who assert the right believe should receive general acceptance. By a ‘claim’, I mean a demand supported by rational argument.

A ‘narrow right’ devolves upon a claim supported by the requirements for social living, and — contrary to Goodpaster — a ‘wide right’ devolves upon the possession of psychologically based interests. This finally and unequivocally locates rights as well as interests on the conservative side of the mattering gap.

OBJECTIONS AND EXAMPLES

Attemptmng To Re–Assert The Primacy Of Rights

Despite the proposed rapprochement with rights–theory, it might still be insisted that rights–theory’s long tradition and history does make it a more perspicuous vehicle of enquiry than the little–known language of consideration. However, this is misguided. Whatever insights traditional rights–theory offers, they are equally accessible to this enquiry because rights–theory is not going to be ignored. Because it is the reasons for moral expansion or restriction which finally matter, not the language in which we couch those reasons, there is no reason to think that primarily using the language of consideration will obscure any relevant considerations.

An apologist for rights may also claim that ‘right’ is somehow a more fundamental notion than ‘consideration’; therefore, talk of consideration must always eventually come down to rights. But this, too, is misguided. The language of consideration is merely a convenient, relatively neutral, and hopefully transparent means of referring to the reasons which support our choices to consider or not consider entities. Because it is those choices which are fundamental, neither vocabulary is the more fundamental.

The Objection From ‘Thinness’

A determined critic might also argue that this neutrality and transparency have been bought by sacrificing content. Moral standing is consistent with such a broad range of treatment that it may be thought to lack practical or philosophical significance. For example, although sentientists argue that it is wrong to eat cows, even vitalists think it acceptable to eat (considerable) carrots. But closer inspection reveals a different story. Whereas there must be adequate moral justification for any action affecting a considerable entity, an inconsiderable entity is precisely that: unless it has instrumental significance, an inconsiderable entity can be treated however one chooses.[37] It is precisely because the notions ‘moral consideration’ and ‘moral standing’ are so broadly applicable and ‘thin’ that they permit us to identify and discuss this important but elusive difference.

A Disagreement About Fetal Moral Status

But despite all that has been said about the language of consideration, what must finally recommend it is proof of its capacity to facilitate critical enquiry. Because my own exploration of current accounts of moral scope may be thought too partisan a test, here, briefly, is more evidence of its utility.

Suppose that an abortion ‘liberal’ thinks it implausible that a first trimester fetus should have full–blooded rights in the same way as a human adult, but does think that the fetus deserves some moral protection. For example, says the liberal, aborting the fetus is acceptable, but experimenting on it is not. Utilising a distinction between rights and consideration the liberal can claim that although the fetus does not have rights (and hence has no right to life) the fetus is still morally considerable. The liberal’s position needs explaining, and we may yet decide that the liberal is misguided. But the soundness of the position is not the issue here. What matters is that by employing both the terms ‘right’ and ‘consideration’, the liberal is enabled to recognise and explain that the argument is about consideration, not about full–blooded rights, and so avoid needless confusion.

Pursuing this example a little further, if the abortion liberal is seeking rapprochement with abortion conservatives, a notion like consideration could usefully bridge the gap between a position which says no rights (extremely liberal) and a position which says full rights (extremely conservative).

A Misunderstanding About ‘Rights’

Even disputants who would both prefer to use the language of rights when discussing moral standing may encounter confusion which will be alleviated by talking of consideration. If you generally think of rights in ‘narrow’, communitarian terms, while I think that rights involve psychologically grounded interests, we are set for misunderstanding. Despite our similar vocabulary, our sense of when it is appropriate to ascribe rights will ground in quite different moral traditions. If and when the problem becomes apparent, we may try to clarify matters by making our different theoretical backgrounds clear. However, I suspect that continuing to use the key notion ‘rights’, while disagreeing so deeply about what rights involve, will still hinder communication. We would be better served by the connotation–free language of consideration.

The Spirit Of Contention

Finally, there is a reason for preferring the language of consideration over that of rights which will probably be thought controversial, but which will, hopefully, gain validity as the enquiry progresses. Among the accounts of moral scope that we will consider, several are part of a self–conscious attempt to develop environmental ethics which rest, in part, on empathy for other forms of life and a humbler sense of humankind’s place in the scheme of things. Even if the language of rights could, somehow, be freed of the presuppositions which bind it to humanism and sentientism, it would still carry adversarial and combative connotations contrary to this goal. Simone Weil said of rights that:[38]

They evoke a latent war and awaken the spirit of contention. [They]...inhibit any possible impulse of charity...

And I want to ensure that nothing is done to inhibit this impulse of charity, even if, as yet, we are unsure of its relevance.

Chapter Two
GOODPASTER’S DISTINCTIONS

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As well as advocating the language of consideration in preference to rights–theory, Goodpaster’s pioneering discussion of vitalism marks distinctions which are intended to guide our use of the language of consideration. Goodpaster describes four related distinctions he thinks we need to keep in mind when answering the initial question:[1]

1. The difference between granting moral consideration to an entity, E, and ascribing rights to E.

2. The difference between granting E moral consideration and granting E a specific degree of moral significance.

3. The difference between asking, Is there overall reason to think that E is a considerable entity?, and asking Can E be intelligibly said to possess a particular quality, or set of qualities, which guarantee moral standing?.

4. The difference between deciding, as a consequence of moral enquiry and debate, that E should be granted moral consideration, and being psychologically and physically able to grant E consideration.

Like Distinction 1, Distinctions 2, 3, and 4 each seek to focus our attention on matters which are central to the initial question while marginalising problems we can afford to ignore, and they all involve issues which interpenetrate to some degree. Elucidating those issues, and evaluating Goodpaster’s advice regarding them, will help set the course for the rest of the enquiry.

DISTINCTION 2 (MORAL SIGNIFICANCE)

A Necessary Separation

Distinction 2 is the simplest distinction textually, and my restatement merely paraphrases Goodpaster; the distinction highlights the difference between being a member of the class of considerable things and being more or less important than other members. This enables us to grant that different things may well vary in their degree of ‘moral significance’ (thus, having greater or lesser claim on moral agents) while still remaining considerable. This is important because it means that enquiry may focus on the initial question, almost exclusively, and ignore questions about relative moral significance. As with most detailed questions of treatment, the minutiae involved in assigning degrees of moral significance to entities are more likely to hinder than promote broad insights into moral standing.[2]

Moral Egalitarianism

The problem could also be avoided by simply embracing ‘moral egalitarianism’ and assuming, from the outset of the enquiry, that all considerable things will be equally important. But that creates more problems than it solves. Although some expansionists do argue for forms of egalitarianism, others think a moral hierarchy is needed; thus, neutrality requires conducting an enquiry which can do justice to both views. From a tactical standpoint, moral egalitarianism also threatens to be a serious embarrassment unless something is done to mitigate its consequences: egalitarian sentientism, for example, would threaten all sentient creatures — humans, cats, and slugs — with equal moral status, and who would endorse that?

An Imperfect Separation

But, despite the obvious utility of this separation of issues, some discussion of moral ranking and moral egalitarianism will be unavoidable. For one thing, the acceptability of moral expansion depends partly upon the provisions made for preserving traditional moral hierarchies or upon showing them misguided. For another thing, moral conflict would appear unavoidable, particularly if the moral franchise is enlarged; therefore, those advocating expansion must convince us that they have a satisfactory way of dealing with it. An extended moral hierarchy is one solution, and — strange as it may seem now — moral egalitarianism could be another. Because evaluating either kind of solution will involve discussing relative moral significance, this is a further reason why the initial question cannot be entirely separated from the issue of moral ranking.

An Attempted Reductio

With Distinction 2 in hand, an objection raised in the last chapter may be dealt with more fully now. In effect, it was claimed that ‘moral consideration’ and ‘moral standing’ are such ‘thin’ notions that no important difference exists between being considerable and being inconsiderable. This may be offered in itself as a reason for rejecting moral expansion, or used as the basis of an attempted reductio ad absurdum:[3]

Moral expansion followed by ranking an expanded moral hierarchy would be tantamount to making no changes at all, merely dressing up traditional distinctions and ways of doing business in a new rhetoric. Therefore, meaningful moral expansion must be egalitarian, and that gets increasingly ludicrous as the franchise increases.

The ‘no change’ assumption here can be answered as before: a considerable entity cannot be used to serve perceived human interests legitimately without a morally good reason; therefore, moral expansion does involve significant change. But I have heard reductio advocates reply that because the notion of consideration is so thin, moral standing is a merely technical impediment so long as humans continue to dominate the moral hierarchy. Here is an example which gives the lie to that charge; it shows how the notion of moral standing gains substance when allied to a specific criterion.

Considering Chickens

Suppose we are persuaded by sentientism that chickens are considerable because they are capable of suffering. It follows that whenever human actions affect chickens, we must weigh chicken suffering against the probable advantages. Given the appalling conditions in which an intensively reared chicken lives, the low nutritional quality of intensively raised food, and the ease of substituting other kinds of food for chicken meat and eggs, battery farming becomes indefensible whatever hierarchical decisions we make.[4]

Now suppose that we think chickens are not considerable. It is hard to make a compelling moral case against intensive rearing. We can argue that cruelty to chickens will adversely affect humans, but history indicates that even if this is true, humans are generally undeterred, especially when cruelty occurs at a sanitised distance from the beneficiaries.[5] Thus, whatever its degree of moral significance, a considered chicken is likely to be much better off than an unconsidered chicken. In a sufficiently large moral franchise, being considerable might prove to have little practical significance for things at the margin. But, for the rest, being deemed considerable does change the manner of business.[6]

DISTINCTION 3 (INTELLIGIBILITY)

Goodpaster’s Questions

Distinction 3 begins with Goodpaster outlining two separate questions about moral status:[7]

(1) The ‘intelligibility question’ asks, “What sort of beings can (logically) be said to deserve moral consideration?”

(2) The ‘normative question’ asks, “What sorts of beings do, as a matter of “ethical fact” deserve moral consideration?”

Goodpaster suggests that this division of questions rests on a more general separation between “questions of intelligibility” and “questions of normative substance”,[8] and he goes on to argue that this separation is not total: intelligibility issues give way to normative ones on close inspection. Even so, the difference between questions (1) and (2) is sufficient for Goodpaster’s main point to be that the initial question must not be treated as simply equivalent to a matter of intelligibility and to the first question:[9]

...we must be wary of arguments that purport to answer [the normative question ] solely on the basis of “ordinary language” style answers to [the intelligibility question].

Thus, Goodpaster is identifying a pair of interpenetrating questions — the intelligibility and the normative questions — then counselling us against trying to enquire into moral scope by asking only the intelligibility question.

Intelligibility And Conceptual Analysis

Assessing this advice requires a reading of the notions and questions involved. ‘Intelligibility’ is usually a matter of what one can understand, or conceive of, and public notions of intelligibility are loosely summed up by what linguistic and logical practice allow us to say sensibly.[10] Goodpaster suggests that questions of intelligibility are usually answered by ‘conceptual analysis’; this involves ascertaining the accepted criterion for assigning a particular quality, then asking whether something can be said sensibly to meet that criterion.[11] For example, if we want to know whether my hat can be credited intelligibly with redness, we must ascertain the accepted pre–requisites for redness, then ask whether my hat can be said to meet them. In the case of moral standing, the intelligibility question will require deciding which things can be said to meet the generally agreed criterion of moral standing.

Normative Issues

Less obvious is the strategy which answers the normative question. If we treat Goodpaster’s reference to matters of ‘ethical fact’ as the key, then a first possibility emerges: the normative question presupposes ‘moral realism’ and requires us to exhibit firm moral facts in answer, rather than merely citing generally accepted criteria of moral scope and the accompanying logical and linguistic constraints. But this intrusion of moral realism into Goodpaster’s story is unsupported by anything he says elsewhere in the paper. Moreover, it is incongruous with his use of quotation marks around the phrase ‘ethical fact’: the conventionalised reference suggests reservations atypical of a moral realist.

Better guides to the normative question are its name plus the way in which Goodpaster conducts his own enquiry. A normative question is one which must be answered by reference to a standard or a regulative principle, and Goodpaster tries to elucidate such a standard with a critical philosophical enquiry which attempts to look behind conventional and accepted wisdom. Thus — without any reference to moral realism — the normative question can be read as requiring an answer based on a clear criterion of moral standing and the reference to “ethical fact” as insisting that this criterion be philosophically well supported.

The Difference Between The Questions

Both the intelligibility and normative questions now involve reference to criteria of moral standing, but their criteria are chosen in significantly different ways. Whereas the intelligibility question tends to look to received notions and common usage for a criterion, the normative question requires us to be more critical, probing accepted thinking and seeking substantive moral argument.

This point is important, and it bears restating. The intelligibility and normative questions differ in that the intelligibility question relies heavily on conventional ideas about moral standing without going into the depth required by the normative question. In consequence, the intelligibility question is more likely to deliver merely the status quo than the normative question is, and, because this enquiry seeks a generous and critically well founded account of moral scope, there is good reason to focus primarily on the normative question.

The Lesson Of History

It might now be objected that, if we have any confidence in our current morality, the best way to answer the initial question is to probe received moral notions with a judicious, educated use of the intelligibility question. But this is too uncritical. We cannot afford such a degree of confidence in current beliefs and notions when received morality has, in the past, been guilty of all manner of wretchedness which we now condemn. Our current presuppositions may be yielding consequences which, with the aid of a little hindsight, or a more critical perspective, would appall us equally. As Goodpaster says:[12]

One might argue plausibly, for example, that there were times and societies in which the moral standing of blacks was, as a matter of conceptual analysis, deniable. Examples could be multiplied to include women, children, fetuses, and various other instances of what might be called “metamoral disenfranchisement”.

If “metamoral disenfranchisement” is read as roughly disenfranchisement because moral consideration would be unintelligible according to current notions, then Goodpaster’s apparent point is as follows:

The beliefs and suppositions of other times and places offer what were then broadly accepted grounds for disenfranchising some humans. Given those beliefs and suppositions today, we would probably find the disenfranchisement justified if our only guide to enquiry was the intelligibility question.

Although it is a matter for historical debate whether and which societies have gone so far as to totally deny moral standing to blacks, women, etc., these groups have certainly suffered abuse as a consequence of being granted, at best, a low place in the moral hierarchy. And if that could have been supported by “conceptual analysis”, there is sufficient reason to probe our own suppositions with care.[13]

A Policy Of Caution And Scepticism

The problem is that the intelligibility question and conceptual analysis probe notions which are in flux but not usually subject to rapid change; thus, they have a patina of veracity and ‘objectivity’ which can easily elicit a too ready acceptance. This makes the intelligibility question well suited to lead enquiry astray, making us hostage to slowly shifting moral ideas and fashions; the antidote is to press the normative question hard. Because this point, too, is crucial, I shall repeat it using an analogy.

Suppose that we are bird–watchers who are looking for night–owls with binoculars. If we do not find many owls, that may be because there are few of them, or it may be because we are not using night–vision binoculars. If we rely on the intelligibility question as a guide to considerable entities, and we do not find many, that may be because our conventional ideas about moral standing support notions which blind us to the moral claims of some entities.

There’s Really No Choice

As if this was not already enough reason to pursue the normative question, this enquiry really has little choice given that it is an enquiry into moral consideration. Moral consideration and moral standing are newly coined terms of art, and there is little agreement about the criteria involved. In consequence, attempting to decide the moral status of an entity on the basis of what can intelligibly be said reverses the logical order of enquiry: it puts the conceptual cart before the standard–setting moral horse. By the same token, the mere intelligibility of an assertion of moral standing will be too weak to use as a positive guide to moral standing (because we can assert moral standing of just about anything), and it will be virtually impossible to use the unintelligibility of moral standing as grounds for exclusion (for the same reason).

DISTINCTION 4 (REGULATIVE CONSIDERATION)

Two Kinds Of Moral Standing

Distinction 4 is, perhaps, the most difficult of Goodpaster’s distinctions. It separates the question whether there is reason to consider an entity, from the question whether a particular moral agent enjoys circumstances which permit that consideration. Goodpaster calls the former ‘regulative’ (i.e. agent–independent) moral standing and the latter ‘operative’ (i.e. agent–relative) moral standing. He argues that an enquiry into moral standing should seek a regulative rather than an operative account of moral scope.[14]

To clarify the difference between regulative and operative moral standing, I shall attempt to expand upon Goodpaster’s own, brief exposition. There are three steps involved. First, Goodpaster introduces the notion of a ‘threshold of moral sensitivity’ in order to represent the psychological constraints on a moral agent. Second, he refers to this threshold in order to persuade us that it is useful to talk of ‘operative consideration’. Third, he explains ‘regulative consideration’ by contrast with operative moral consideration.

Sensitivity Thresholds (Step One)

Goodpaster introduces thresholds of moral sensitivity this way:[15]

There is clearly a sense in which we are subject to thresholds of moral sensitivity just as we are subject to thresholds of cognitive or perceptual sensitivity. Beyond such thresholds we are “morally blind” or suffer disintegrative consequences analogous to “information overload” in a computer.

To take an example, Peter is a traditional butcher whose work begins with an animal in a field and ends with a piece of meat in a shopping bag. We are watching lambs enter his abattoir. Separated from their ewes, and smelling blood, they are distressed, but Peter hardly notices; this is old hat to him. However, a young friend who is with me, and who is familiar with pets but unfamiliar with livestock farming, immediately recognises the lambs’ distress and turns to me to intervene. I try to explain that I cannot help, not just because the lambs are irrevocably destined for slaughter, but because Peter would not understand our concern. He no longer perceives distress in lambs unless it is particularly severe and overt.

It is not merely that Peter is habituated to his work. If every time he killed and dressed lamb Peter had to view what he was doing through a child’s eyes, he would either have to give up his job or endure constant distress. Peter’s largely unconscious response to this dilemma has been to employ what might popularly be called a defense mechanism — or perhaps more accurately an enabling mechanism — which allows him to get on with the job. In other words, Peter has developed an insensitivity to lambs whereas the child and I remain sensitive. These differing susceptibilities are what I understand by “thresholds of moral sensitivity” or, more simply, sensitivity thresholds.[16]

Examples of sensitivity thresholds are easily multiplied. When we worry about the harmful effects of media violence on moral health, it is partly this tendency to protect ourselves by raising our sensitivity thresholds which concerns us. And when we encourage empathy in young children, we are fostering low sensitivity thresholds with respect to certain entities. By contrast, anyone who has been involved in a ‘caring profession’ knows the need to develop a protective sensitivity threshold by ‘turning down their volume control’.[17] In general, there is good reason to agree with Goodpaster that sensitivity thresholds are a common feature of human psychology and an important part of the moral landscape.

Operative Moral Consideration (Step Two)

The notion ‘operative moral consideration’ can now be explicated in terms of sensitivity thresholds. In Goodpaster’s own words:[18]

...the moral considerability of [an entity, E,] is operative for an agent, A, if and only if the thorough acknowledgement of [E] by A is psychologically (and in general, causally) possible for A.

The psychological precondition is straightforward when understood in terms of sensitivity thresholds: it says that extending moral consideration to something must not conflict with a sensitivity threshold required for daily living. The causal condition is less obvious, but the following passage offers guidance:[19]

An agent may, for example, have an obligation to grant regulative considerability to all living things, but be able psychologically and in terms of his own nutrition to grant operative consideration to a much smaller class of things (though note that capacities in this regard differ among persons and change over time).

Leaving “regulative considerability” until the next step, the phrase “be able psychologically and in terms of his own nutrition to grant operative consideration” parallels Goodpaster’s earlier use of the words “psychologically (and in general, causally)” when defining operative consideration. Therefore, the reference to nutritional restrictions can be read as a specific instance of a causal possibility. It may also be surmised that a causal possibility is not simply a physical possibility because it is physically possible for someone to ignore nutritional requirements. A causal possibility is better understood as something which can be done without undergoing significant physical harm, particularly since psychological possibility is already limited by sensitivity thresholds ensuring against psychological harm.

A people whose moral franchise is operatively limited for nutritional reasons are the traditional Inuit who live by hunting. Inuit cannot avoid causing nonhuman suffering without sacrificing their own lives. Thus, for the Inuit, there is no realistic alternative to the hunt, and this lack of options must also be part of the notion of operative consideration; otherwise, it would become too easy to wriggle off the moral hook. In general, all reasonable alternatives must be blocked before it is legitimate to deny entities operative consideration.[20] Given this proviso, ‘operative consideration’ may be understood as follows:

E warrants OPERATIVE CONSIDERATION by A precisely when A will not undergo significant and avoidable psychological or physical harm by extending consideration to E, and there is already sufficient moral reason to consider E.

Thus, operatively considerable entities are now (roughly) those considerable entities whose vital interests do not conflict with the vital interests of moral agents. And because the psychological and physical constraints on moral agents are equally important, it now makes sense to understand a ‘sensitivity threshold’ as a defense or enabling mechanism which helps protect individuals from both kinds of harm.

Regulative Moral Consideration (Step Three)

The relationship between operative consideration and the original notion of consideration simpliciter becomes clear with Goodpaster’s definition of regulative consideration:[21]

If the moral considerability of [an entity, E,] is defensible on all grounds independent of operativity, we shall say that it is regulative.

Judging by the way Goodpaster’s enquiry develops, these “grounds independent of operativity” are roughly the sort of arguments and considerations adduced by the various accounts of moral scope. In other words:

E warrants REGULATIVE CONSIDERATION precisely when there is good reason to extend moral consideration to E independently of the particular needs of individual moral agents.

Goodpaster has now split the original notion of moral consideration in two. Regulative consideration is warranted when there is sufficient, non–instrumental reason to take an entity into account notwithstanding the needs of particular moral agents. Operative consideration is warranted when actively taking account of a regulatively considerable entity will not cause a moral agent significant, unavoidable harm. Thus, regulative consideration is a ‘theoretical’ notion of consideration whereas operative consideration is ‘practical’. In consequence, assessments of regulative moral standing will be fairly consistent across moral agents, at least within a particular moral tradition, but operative moral standing may, in Goodpaster’s words, “differ among persons and change over time”.[22]

Good, But Difficult Advice

Now we can assess Goodpaster’s advice to focus exclusively on regulative consideration. It is sound advice, on the face of it, because we need an answer to the initial question which speaks for morality per se rather than particular moral agents. But there is a problem.

Goodpaster is telling Peter that if he wishes to understand the moral status of lambs, he must ‘forget’ he is a butcher and take a purely regulative view. This is hard advice to follow because sensitivity thresholds are usually well entrenched and, often, we are not even aware of them. But suppose that Peter succeeds in overcoming this obstacle. He must then seek reasons for and against granting lambs moral standing, and that will inevitably lead him to enquire what others have to say and to moral tradition and moral debate. Unfortunately, both of these sources offer judgements which are partly informed by the sensitivity thresholds of Peter’s moral neighbours and their predecessors. This is unavoidable because moral thought depends upon the sensitivity of moral agents to reveal circumstances which may have moral significance. For example, if humans were completely insensitive to nonhuman suffering, it is highly unlikely that sentientism would have developed. Even if Peter can set aside his own threshold needs as a butcher, as soon as he appeals to moral tradition, a generalised sensitivity threshold will be informing his judgements about moral standing.

Considering Teddy Bears

Peter might also try following Goodpaster’s advice as an independent moral agent who, without reference to tradition, works to lower his own sensitivity threshold so that it permits sensitivity to lambs, then adjusts any moral traditions which are prejudiced against lambs, and finally ask whether lambs have moral standing.[23] But the process can have strange consequences.

Suppose that the moral status of teddy bears rather than lambs is in question. Following the above procedure, Peter lowers his sensitivity threshold respecting teddy bears and avoids or modifies moral traditions which evince anti–teddy prejudice. (No, it is not impossible to do. There are lots of children in the world acutely sensitive about teddy bears, and many adults will still flinch if they see you abuse one.) In consequence, Peter becomes persuaded that teddy bears are morally considerable. Those of us who are still unconvinced might construct counter–arguments, but it remains open to a teddy activist to reply that those arguments partly depend upon sensitivity thresholds which blind us to the ‘true’ moral nature of teddies.

The Steps Which Brought Us Here

Something, surely, has gone wrong. Let us review the steps which brought us here:

· Distinction 4 separates an operative, agent–relative view of moral standing (which is coloured by individual psychological and physical needs) with a regulative, agent–independent view of moral standing (which is untainted by need).

· I have argued that moral thought is not entirely separable from moral sensitivity. It follows that a fully regulative, agent–independent view of moral standing, uninfluenced by psychological or physical needs, is not an option.

· I have also suggested that an agent–independent view can be approximated by sensitising ourselves to the entity whose moral status is currently in question. However, if we do that, it will be hard to show that there are entities which are not morally considerable.

A Third Option

The sensible course now is compromise. Moral tradition and debate are needed to ‘iron out’ individual idiosyncracies and offer a kind of ‘intersubjective sensitivity threshold’ which will preclude ‘teddy bear’ morality. But this still leaves judgements about moral status hostage to sensitivity thresholds, which appears to be just what Goodpaster wants to avoid. And this is not an instance when achievable ‘intersubjectivity’ can replace the desired ‘objectivity’ at no cost. However, like any other aspect of morality, sensitivity thresholds may be, and should be, criticised in terms of their consistency, their consequences, and the depth of our need. Developing a more–than–usually sensitive, regulative, perspective will help those of us involved in moral enquiry to ‘see’ entities without regard to our own psychological or physical needs and furnish a basis for criticism and re–evaluation. It will then be a matter for debate whether morality generally should follow suit.[24]

Still A Difficult Issue

But perhaps this is an over simplification of what lies ahead in that we are going to experience competing pulls towards both the operative and the regulative perspectives. On the one hand, the initial question is a practical question about how we should live, and we cannot determine an answer without situating ourselves as particular moral agents subject to psychological and physical needs. On the other hand, this is a philosophical enquiry into moral scope, and we require an answer which is sufficiently impartial and ‘distanced’ to be both recognisably moral and rationally persuasive.

What is certain is that we must guard against an uncritical acceptance of operative restrictions on moral standing. We should always keep Peter the butcher in mind and, when it seems clear that entities encountered in our everyday lives are inconsiderable, we should ask to what extent concern for our own psychological or physical welfare is responsible for that judgement and what conclusion a more detached perspective might yield. At the same time, we must recognise that a purely agent–independent, regulative account of moral scope is impossible because morality necessarily makes judgements about appropriate levels of sensitivity.

The importance of both these points was brought sharply home when I lived in Bhutan. Feral, cat–eating, often rabid dogs were part of everyday life, and they were treated harshly. My initial compassion soon gave way to the local practice of greeting strays with stones and curses, and I was a passive accomplice while my students hunted and stoned our local scavengers. In all, it took about a decade for my warmth towards dogs to return and for me to re–acquire a dog companion. In retrospect, it was a profoundly significant experience, teaching me the mutability of perceptions I had built my life around.

PART TWO: THE MOVEMENT FROM INTEREST

Chapter Three
HUMANISM AND COMMUNITY

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Humanism is the point of departure for our exploration of current accounts of moral scope. It identifies the moral franchise roughly with all and only humans, thus giving a traditional answer to the initial question which the other accounts need to show in error. This last point needs stressing because critics sometimes give the impression that humanism is all but extinct. My own experience is that although humanism is poorly represented in current academic philosophy, it soon surfaces in debate about the issues described in Part One, and it is certainly alive and well outside philosophy.[1]

Altogether, there are a number of different forms of humanism prominent in history and in philosophical writing. The most notable are ‘rational humanism’ (which makes rationality the criterion of moral standing), ‘moral humanism’ (which demands reciprocating membership in a human community), and true ‘speciesism’ or ‘genetic humanism’ (which only requires the possession of human genes). It will also be useful to recognise a version of humanism, ‘neighbourhood humanism’, which was common in the classical world: the Greeks who began moral philosophy appear to have limited the moral franchise to close human neighbours, finding nothing wrong when a victor raped, plundered, and enslaved a conquered city. The main focus here will be moral humanism: it offers the most persuasive basis for imposing both necessary and sufficient humanist conditions on the moral franchise.

As will be my practice throughout this exploration of the accounts of moral scope — and in keeping with Part One — the language of consideration will be my primary vehicle of discussion. Aesthetic considerations will not be discussed, and rights ascriptions will be evaluated according to their grounds. (Which is roughly in accordance with Goodpaster’s Distinction 1.) I shall avoid questions about relative moral standing in so far as that is possible (Goodpaster’s Distinction 2), treat the apparent intelligibility of an assertion of moral standing as, at best, only an approximate guide to moral status (Goodpaster’s Distinction 3), and I shall seek to make putative accounts as independent of the everyday needs of moral agents as is possible (Goodpaster’s Distinction 4).

MELDEN’S MORAL HUMANISM

A Criterion Grounded In Community

The most careful and thorough treatment of humanism in the recent literature is offered by A. I. Melden. His desideratum is a complete ethics founded in the requirements for social living, but, despite this ambitious sweep, the essence of Melden’s humanism can be briefly stated.[2] Melden is a ‘narrow–rights’ theorist who argues that rights arise in consequence of membership in a moral community within which common goods are pursued. To be a rights–bearer — and, therefore, on Melden’s account, to have moral standing — is to be someone with whom others can coordinate plans and behaviour in the pursuit of shared ends. According to Melden, ascribing narrow–rights and correlative obligations is the chief way of achieving coordination within a moral community, and promising is, thus, the paradigm of a moral relation.

Melden uses his aetiology of rights to draw some initially strong conclusions about who can be rights bearers.[3] Rights bearers must be rational, in order to recognise and act on their rights and obligations, and they must also be predisposed to act morally. (For Melden, unlike Kant, acting rationally need not entail acting morally.[4]) Finally, Melden asserts that rights bearers must be genetically human in order to share the common interests which glue the moral community together.

The Objection From Current Practice

This is a very limited account of moral scope, adding together as it does the restrictions imposed by rational and genetic humanism, then narrowing the franchise further by demanding moral agency. Melden is immediately open to the objection that his humanism is inconsistent with current practice because moral consideration is routinely granted to humans who are neither rational nor moral agents. The most powerful counter–example is children. Whatever theoretical reasons we might cite in support, we can hardly deny that received morality does enfranchise them.[5] Children may not have precisely the same degree of moral standing as adult moral agents, but they certainly have significant moral standing.

Furthermore, it is not only children whom Melden threatens to put beyond the moral pale. He also disenfranchises all adults who are intellectually or psychologically incapable of rational or moral agency. With respect to rational incapacity, there may be a question how much protection current morality affords those who are intellectually impaired, but it is, again, undeniable that they are accorded some consideration.[6] Even psychopaths seem to be included under the moral umbrella. Whereas product–testing on nonhumans is routine, received morality certainly does not sanction product–testing on the particularly wicked.

Seeking A Better Fit

The only realistic response to this objection is to loosen the criteria of moral standing, and that is what Melden does. He is particularly concerned to enfranchise children, and he offers reasons for granting them rights at numerous points in his text, in the context of various topics. Two relatively clearly stated reasons appear for granting rights to humans incapable of agency. The first reason is that children and others who are dearly loved by community members are brought within its shelter by that love.[7] The second reason is that the rights of infants and others lacking agency can be adequately grounded in their interests.[8]

Before we object that being ‘sheltered’ is not the same as being a right–holder, or that having interests is not obviously restricted to community members, we should note that neither reason is apparently intended to stand alone. For Melden, children and others lacking agency are not morally special just because we love them, or because they have interests per se. They are morally special because their interests and ours cannot be properly separated or taken in isolation: a child is an integral part of at least one, hopefully several adult lives; an adult incapable of rational agency is a sibling, parent, or friend who remains a partner in a common enterprise. Thus, Melden views humans who are not full rational agents as integral to the pursuit of human goods even though their intentional contribution to those goods may be very limited. (Note that even sociopaths are not excluded from the community and barred from right–holding by the community. According to Melden, they exclude themselves by “choosing and deciding...in complete indifference to the moral interests of others.”[9]

‘Strict’ And ‘Generous’ Moral Humanism

In consequence of this relatively sane view of human relationships, Melden’s ‘moral community’ consists of all those who are bound together by interlocking relationships, needs, and expectations. This is more generous than might be expected of moral humanism, and it is useful to mark that generousity by identifying two possible kinds within moral humanism:

STRICT moral humanism extends moral standing only to humans who are full, reciprocating members of a moral community.

Melden’s GENEROUS moral humanism also includes children and other humans incapable of full reciprocity. Although the paradigm rights bearer remains a rational, moral agent, his or her interests are seen to be best served by granting moral standing to family and friends who do not meet the paradigm.

Because subsequent discussion focusses almost entirely on generous moral humanism, to the exclusion of strict moral humanism, I shall continue to refer simply to ‘moral humanism’ except where the context makes clarification necessary.

But Would It Work?

Despite the greater generosity of Melden’s moral humanism, one may still wonder if his moral community could ever entail rights for an unwanted infant or old person, or for those who are so mentally or emotionally impoverished as to be apparently incapable of any kind of partnership. My sense is that it could. If caring and compassion are among the goods which a moral community pursues, then the recipients of care and compassion could, in an extended sense, be considered partners in pursuit of that good. An example of this kind of reasoning is provided by the Himalayan Buddhists who view a less able relative as an opportunity for, and a partner in, moral development. And given this gloss on Melden, his criterion of moral standing may finally be summarised as follows:

Melden’s CRITERION of moral standing: Human beings (and, it appears, only human beings) have moral standing when they are either reciprocating members of a moral community or tied to reciprocating members by the bonds of love or compassion.

PUSHING AT THE BOUNDARIES

Definitively Rejecting Strict Moral Humanism

Melden has arrived at this relatively generous criterion of moral standing because he is happy to accommodate received morality’s concern for children and other non–agents; however, there is the theoretical alternative of trying to rehabilitate strict moral humanism. This possibility should be laid to rest, now, so that strict moral humanism cannot haunt future discussion. And the grounds for doing so are to hand: strict moral humanism fails to offer an adequate basis for communal living.

Human adults generally have a high regard for the safety and well–being of their loved ones, and they are unlikely to enter into an association which puts dependant friends or relatives at risk. Therefore, just as a guarantee of relative personal safety is an important prerequisite of communal life, so this guarantee must extend to children and others who are incapable of moral agency. But strict moral humanism is unable to furnish this guarantee by the usual means of extending moral protection to them. The alternative is to hope that children and the intellectually impaired will be adequately protected because they will be treated well out of regard for other moral agents. This is analogous to the earlier example of my Cartesian neighbour treating my cat well out of regard for me: now it is my child and my idiot brother who are supposed to be adequately protected because they are my wards. But this protection–by–proxy is inadequate. Personal regard is variable and fickle, and it is poor surety for the safety of one’s child. What happens if one dies? Will my dependants be allowed to slip through the communal net because I am no longer there as guarantor? Given the depth of the concern most parents have for the well–being of their children, only the protection of moral standing is going to be thought sufficient.

As a final reason for thinking that morality should fully enfranchise the dependants of moral agents — and all non–paradigm humans in general — note that an increased perception of security tends to improve human well–being and that granting moral standing to children and impaired adults is a relatively easy way of enhancing everyone’s sense of security. This is because doing so not only assures moral agents that their relatives enjoy the same kind of protection as themselves, it also helps to make the possession of humanity a special attribute which automatically elicits consideration.

A Momentum For Expansion

Given that it is so important for morality to enfranchise all humans, whether they are paradigm moral agents or not, it may be wondered whether Melden’s own criterion of moral standing is quite up to the job. After all, non–agents only have a ‘second–hand’ claim to consideration grounded in the interests of fully fledged moral agents. However, I see Melden’s position differently. On a generous reading of the human capacity for love and compassion, Melden’s notion of ‘community’ is rich enough to involve just about all humans — probably even the psychopaths whom he thinks exclude themselves — and it is strong enough to do so securely. As I see it, Melden’s problem is resisting the momentum for further generosity which his criterion generates.

Melden’s Speciesism

To take a first instance, why is Melden so sure that rational nonhumans — should there be any — fall outside the moral umbrella? In the terms of a standard response to so–called ‘speciesism’:[10]

Suppose that a being utterly unlike any form of life yet encountered flies in from space. We find evidence of intellect, something akin to emotion, and an ability to plan. Should we not grant the space–being moral status?

Rational humanists and critics opposed to humanism generally will concur in endorsing a positive answer. But Melden appears to challenge this alliance when he claims that unless the space–being is like us in “the considerations which move her to act”, we would be unable to make her a member of our moral community or treat her like a human being.[11] To someone persuaded of the moral significance of either rationality or a capacity for suffering, this will appear beside the point: if it is within our power to affect the space–being, then morality must extend consideration to her whether or not she can join our ‘community’. Does Melden really wish to deny that the space–being is considerable?

Space Beings And Angels

The answer seems to be that Melden does. He explicitly, if ill–advisedly, recognises that his own criterion of moral standing is more restrictive than that of rational humanism’s paradigm exponent Immanuel Kant.[12] I am not sure that there is a lot of difference between Melden and Kant in this regard, but Melden’s thinking there is helps locate his own position. Melden apparently distances himself from Kant on the ground that if a rational space being — or more likely an angel — had alighted at Konigsberg, Kant would have had no difficulty accepting her moral status. Her rationality would have equipped her to, “act only according to the maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law.”[13] And, for Kant, this makes something a member of the kingdom of ends and secures its moral standing. What Melden appears to be overlooking is that Kant viewed rational and moral agency as inseparable, and so Kant’s rational angel is a reciprocating moral agent, just as Melden demands. Neither Kant nor Melden seem to conceive of a moral relationship with a rational being who does not have concerns in common with us.[14]

A Fundamental Difference

Here, we come to the start of one of those fundamental disagreements I mentioned in Part One. Because the sole theoretical basis of Melden’s humanism is promoting the welfare of a community of reciprocating moral agents and their wards, he finds no possible reason to enfranchise a rational being who stands outside that community. By contrast, critics who take a broader view will wish to argue that because compassion and, perhaps, a respect for the dignity of self–directing beings are already part and parcel of received morality, consistency demands enfranchising all rational creatures. This disagreement has a form which will shape much of the next chapter, where I shall present sentientism’s case for enfranchising sentient, rather than rational, nonhumans. On the one hand, moral humanism insists that morality is strictly circumscribed by its concern for human welfare. On the other hand, expansionists argue that consistency must force the moral umbrella further open. For now, I will merely go on record as finding it odd, and seemingly arbitrary, to insist that another rational creature could have no claim at all on our moral concern. It seems to me received morality is more flexible and catholic than that, and I shall eventually offer reasons why that should be so.

Nonhuman Companions

But, however the space–being issue is decided, Earth appears to house no creatures whose rational capacity approaches that of humans; therefore, the outcome is only of theoretical interest.[15] By contrast, Melden’s view of mundane nonhumans is of real practical concern: why is Melden so sure that only humans have rights? If the answer is yet a further claim that humans have peculiarly interlocking interests, we need a fuller explanation of what those interests are. And if part of that explanation is the deep love and concern moral agents have for other humans then, on those grounds, many nonhuman companions qualify. Furthermore, if the explanation cites how humans are our ‘partners in moral development’ (as was discussed when the status of intellectually impaired humans was at issue), it is also reasonable to claim nonhuman companions as partners and considerable beings. Even though nonhumans do not develop morally themselves, they enjoy a similar role to severely challenged humans who are judged to be our moral partners; for example, the cat whom I used to introduce the initial question was a partner in my own moral development, as were the nonhuman friends of childhood. Granting the need for consistency in distinguishing considerable from inconsiderable entities, these lines of thought suggest that generous moral humanism should enfranchise companion nonhumans, and shun a restriction which is beginning to appear an arbitrary preference for our own species.

And Sheepdogs

There is a further reason still for thinking that Melden’s ‘community’ should extend to (at least some) nonhuman companions. As mentioned above, Melden never specifies the precise interests promoted by a moral community; in the absence of a list, let us agree that morality serves to promote a communal way of life which is generally advantageous to members, enabling them to better satisfy their needs. I shall argue that this provides reason to enfranchise working sheepdogs (at the least).

Without his Border–Collie, a Scottish, Welsh, or Cumbrian shepherd cannot tend the flock. This is not just a matter of convenience: it would be almost impossible for unaided humans to herd sheep across those hills. And without his shepherd, the dog must either live a harder life as a stray, or a feral dog, or a less satisfying life as a pet. The benefits of partnership are mutual. What is more, human and dog integrate their behaviour so thoroughly, and their interests are so enmeshed, that it makes more sense to think of dogs as members of a hill–farming community than as a mere adjunct to it, a kind of tool. In which case, sheepdogs are morally considerable according to the basis of Melden’s criterion.[16]

Humanists may want to block this argument. Can they do so by insisting that members of a moral community be able to recognise their rights and obligations? No, because that insistence would exclude those nonparadigm humans whom Melden has worked so hard to accommodate. In any case, if we take behavioural rather than linguistic competence as a guide to community membership, observation suggests that working dogs make a good showing.

Can the argument be blocked by insisting that there is no reason why the shepherd cannot view and use the dog as a tool? The sheep will still get herded, and the dog will still get fed and sheltered. But problems arise if we try to argue that the dog need only be of instrumental significance to the shepherd. In the first place, the dog does appear to satisfy (at least) those requirements for community membership which an intellectually impaired human satisfies. If the intellectually impaired human is to be made a community member, then the rule that we should not make distinctions where relevant differences do not exist indicates that the dog should be too. Second, it is arguable that both shepherd and dog will miss out on some of the benefits of partnership if the dog is treated instrumentally: the shepherd will lose a potential friendship which is rewarding in itself and waste an opportunity for moral growth, and the dog will lose the affection which domesticated dogs are so eager for. Third, and finally, perhaps the sheep will not be so well herded. Like humans, dogs seem to do their best for those who appreciate and care for them in themselves, rather than valuing them only as a means to an end.

New–Model Humanism: A First Bulge In The Dam

If my reading of Melden and my argument are accepted so far, then there is a limited case to be made for extending the moral umbrella beyond moral humanism, to nonhuman companions and helpmeets, without denying moral humanism’s premises. This is an important finding: it means there is reason for a consistent, generous, moral humanist to recognise the moral standing of at least some sentient nonhumans; it also means that such recognition can be achieved without rejecting the basic grounding of moral humanism. Given that there is also the beginnings of a case for moral humanism to enfranchise possible rational nonhumans, I propose recognising a separate version of humanism which I shall call ‘new–model humanism’. New–model humanism endorses Melden’s premise that morality grounds in the requirements of community, but it also recognises a case for extending the moral franchise to rational nonhumans and to nonhuman companions and colleagues. New–model humanism is the first potential bulge in the traditional humanist bulwark against moral expansion.

IS MELDEN REALLY A HUMANIST?

The Initial Evidence

Given the potential elasticity of Melden’s own generous moral humanism, one is led to wonder whether Melden really is a humanist in the sense of someone totally unwilling to extend moral consideration to nonhumans. Let us consider the evidence. To begin with, the majority of Melden’s discussion centres on attributions of narrow rights, and although I have offered reason for thinking that (for example) a sheepdog may warrant certain narrow rights, Melden would certainly disagree. Those arguments which deal with the genesis of rights clearly show that Melden thinks only humans fit subjects for rights.[17] However, when we seek Melden’s explicit view of those who do not hold rights, we find a more generous story. For example, his opening page warns us that beside moral rights, we must recognise:[18]

...moral considerations to which the concept of a right does not seem to apply at all: the requirement that we help someone in need, the generosity or kindness we ought to extend to persons simply out of love and affection for them, and even the humane treatment we ought to give animals unable to fend for themselves.

Obviously, Melden does not think the narrow rights story tells all there is to know about morality, but he never explains the alternative theoretical basis of these “considerations”. A possibility true to Melden’s humanism is that they are justifiable independently of rights–theory because they contribute so much to communal life and human welfare. But if Melden thinks this, he has the problem of reconciling non–rights–based obligations with rights–based obligations when there is a conflict, and that is not an easy matter.[19] Another possibility is that, at least in the case of “animals unable to fend for themselves”, there are grounds for moral standing which do not quite add up to grounds for a narrow rights–ascription. In the latter case, Melden may be edging towards a recognition of wider rights which are not grounded in the exigencies of community. But, in any case, he is taking the view that we owe certain treatment to certain sentient beings because of properties they exhibit, and that goes beyond standard moral humanism.

Unfortunately, Melden’s text does not provide the basis for a definitive answer to the puzzle. For what it is worth, my feeling about his position, based on a prevailing tone of compassion and generousity which is sometimes at odds with humanism’s strictures, is that while his moral theory points Melden towards humanism, his moral sense leads in the opposite direction.

Sumner’s Reading

But not everyone agrees. L. W. Sumner depicts Melden as a humanist of the first water. This is because according to Sumner’s own account of moral scope, moral standing is inseparable from the right to life: “having (some) moral standing is equivalent to having (some) right to life.”[20] Thus, any considerable entity necessarily has a (or some) right to life. If Melden is limiting rights to humans, then he must be limiting the right to life to humans, and — on Sumner’s view of what moral consideration involves — he is, thereby, denying moral standing to nonhumans.

Two questions now arise: Is moral standing inseparable from the right to life?, and, Does Melden really wish to claim that nonhumans have no right to life at all? With respect to the first question, as explained in Part One, anyone with hopes of carrying moral expansion across the mattering–gap must be prepared to separate moral standing from rights per se, if only because rights do not extend that far. Therefore, this enquiry cannot endorse Sumner’s right to life claim without a substantive argument to show that being a living entity with a well–founded claim to life is a necessary condition of moral consideration. Because that issue’s proper provenance is sentientism’s attempt to halt moral expansion at the mattering gap, I shall not discuss it here.

What is relevant here is Melden’s possible view of nonhuman claims to life. If he thinks that some nonhumans may have a claim to life, that suggests he thinks them considerable. However, Melden’s text is again unequal to the query. Although Melden does say that the demise of a nonhuman may be hastened without compunction[21], this is not the same as saying that we can legitimately kill a perfectly healthy nonhuman without need to show just cause. If this seems to be splitting hairs, compare the clearly expressed view of John Passmore, who is a possibly stronger, but less subtle, candidate for the title of ‘contemporary humanist’. He not only wants to deny animals rights, he offers the traditional explanation that cruelty to animals is wrong only because, “callousness, an insensibility to suffering, is a moral defect in a human being”.[22]

A Humanist Who Wavers, But Still A Humanist

I conclude that there is ambiguity in Melden’s view of nonhumans, and his intention to disenfranchise them does sometimes waver, but this certainly does not make him a closet sentientist. Leaving aside his possible lapses in favour of sentient nonhumans, Melden is a typical, contemporary humanist. Just like Passmore, he grounds moral rights in a community of common interests, and he explicitly limits legitimate rights–bearers to human beings who have interlocking interests.[23] In any case, it is not a primary issue whether Melden should be read as a humanist or a would–be humanist who transcends himself. The reason why it is difficult to be sure of Melden’s precise position are just what make his exposition of moral humanism so interesting: Melden’s ambiguities arise because it is difficult to insist that the moral franchise should extend solely to humans while at the same time remaining open to the many sources of moral claims upon us. The tension between Melden’s view that nonhumans lack the rights which entail moral standing and his equally explicit recognition that we ought to treat nonhumans humanely indicates the strain within generous moral humanism.

Two Senses Of ‘Community’

There is one further point of note arising from Sumner’s discussion of Melden, and it leads to a deeper understanding of what moral humanism involves. Sumner suggests that the notion of a ‘moral community’ is itself inherently ambiguous: it may be a community of those agents who are capable of recognising obligations, or it may consist of all those to whom the agents have moral obligations. Melden begins by espousing the former view. However, as we have seen, he cannot get by for long with the narrow notion of community, and he slithers towards a broader definition as he grants rights to children and adults incapable of agency. But Melden never quite moves as far as the second conception of community. Instead, he havers: Melden’s moral community finally consists of all whose lives are connected through shared projects, the demands of reciprocity, or affection. This is why I could claim earlier that consistency demands new model humanism.

Humanism’s Limited Momentum

In criticising Melden, Sumner effectively asks why Melden does not start out from the potentially more generous notion of community and canvas other possible bases of obligation. But this is not really fair to Melden. Although he never answers Sumner directly, Melden’s position is clear and has already been touched on. Melden treats it as axiomatic that morality’s mandate is limited to what is required in order to promote the welfare of reciprocating human moral agents and their wards.

Whether or not we agree with Melden, understanding this aspect of his reasoning is essential to understanding contemporary humanism. Not only does Melden’s view of morality’s purpose generate the moral franchise he endorses, it provides a principled way of limiting the moral franchise. If my attempt to move humanism towards greater generousity has seemed to prepare the way for a full–scale slide into sentientism, then this is important to recognise. Moral humanism may resist expansion beyond new model humanism by invoking morality’s unique concern with the welfare of reciprocating moral agents, and those whose interests are bound up with the interests of moral agents; thus, denying admittance to all except the nonhuman companions and helpmeets discussed earlier.

A critic of humanism might interject here, claiming that if sheepdogs are to be granted moral standing then consistency requires enfranchising all other similarly sentient creatures. But a moral humanist who is willing to be sufficiently hard–nosed about the humanist position may reply that it is not sheepdogs per se who are being enfranchised, but rather nonhuman companions and helpmeets. Consistency only requires enfranchising all other companions and helpmeets.[24] Even if (as Sumner wants) the moral community is understood as consisting of all those to whom moral agents have obligations, moral humanism still has principled grounds for resisting expansion. Moral humanism holds obligations legitimate only if they ultimately contribute to the welfare of moral agents; therefore, it is hard to make a case for creatures which are neither nonhuman companions nor helpmeets. We may not like moral humanism, but it is a more coherent and secure account of moral scope than its critics sometimes allow.

GENETIC HUMANISM

A Possibly Sufficient, But Not Necessary, Condition

Moral humanism’s separation of considerable from inconsiderable entities finally grounds in a psychological difference: sentient nonhumans are disenfranchised because their cognitive abilities fit them so poorly for inclusion in a human community. However, this focus on psychology is not the only possible approach to humanism.[25] An Aristotelian might seek separation based on some essential difference between humans and other creatures, and a more contemporary proponent can seek to claim that the genetic difference between humans and nonhumans is morally significant in itself. Leaving religious notions aside, it is unclear what might constitute the essential difference, and a bare preference for our own species is hard to square with impartiality. But some conservatives in the abortion debate have lowered their sights from a full–fledged account of moral scope in order to claim that mere genetic humanity is sufficient to confer moral standing (is a sufficient condition for moral standing) even if its absence does not necessarily preclude it (genetic humanity is not a necessary condition for moral standing). This claim is not only important for the morality of abortion, it offers an interesting possible codicil to the initial question.

Noonan’s Argument

Good current examples of this limited genetic humanism are provided by John T. Noonan Jr. and Joseph F. Donceel. Reading Noonan in light of Donceel’s loyal criticism yields the following argument:[26]

(1) Even the conceptus, once formed, carries the genetic plan of our species.

(2) Given this genetic plan, the conceptus has a high (roughly 4/5) probability of developing into a full fledged member of our species so long as it remains safely in utero.

(3) If the conceptus is so endowed and programmed, it is to all moral intents and purposes a human being with a right to life.

This argument has two strings. One string plays the theme of `our species’: even the conceptus is endowed with a human genetic code and so is one of us. The other string plays the theme of `potentiality’: the conceptus has a high probability of being carried through to birth and eventually becoming a fully fledged human being. It will be best to treat these themes as distinct, separate arguments, starting with potentiality.

Potentiality

One influential criticism of the potentiality argument runs as follows:[27]

... if A has rights only because he satisfies some condition P, it doesn’t follow that B has the same rights now because he could have property P at some time in the future. It only follows that he will have rights when he has P. He is a potential bearer of rights, as he is a potential bearer of P. A potential president of the United States is not on that account Commander–in–Chief.

This objection involves crediting genetic humanism with an argument which can be summarised thus:

A conceptus is potentially human. A human has a right to life. Therefore a conceptus, which is potentially human, has a potential right to life. Therefore a conceptus has a right to life.

But this is logically obnoxious because the premise only supports the conclusion that the fetus has a potential right to life. To conclude that a fetus has an actual right to life we must conflate a potential right with an actual right.

A More Charitable Reading

Is this logical aberration really the argument genetic humanism seeks to offer? It seems unlikely. As Earl Winkler has pointed out, genetic humanism may be more favourably read as claiming that a conceptus’s own present qualities — in particular, the quality of being potentially a rational being — are sufficient to secure its present right to life:[28]

A clear–headed [abortion] conservative does not say that potential future moral personhood confers such personhood now, but that present potential for future rationality and self–consciousness confers moral personhood now.

Or, as Noonan puts it, “the possibility of human wisdom” directly grounds a present right to life.[29]

But although this rescues genetic humanism from logical error, it must still be explained how the present right to life grounds in a “possibility”. Noonan does not do this; however, there is at least one possible explanation to hand. Noonan can be understood as holding the view that human wisdom is a dispositional property which may be judged present even when not currently manifested. It may then be argued that human wisdom secures “moral personhood” even prior to being evinced.[30] The weakness of this position is that — even if is agreed that the dispositional property of human wisdom secures moral standing —we may question whether any organism should be credited with the property until there is initial evidence of it. Although dispositional properties are routinely granted sight unseen when there is little or no possibility of doubt, not all human fetuses eventually demonstrate wisdom. Compare fetuses and human wisdom with the example of standard window glass: window glass will always shatter when struck with a metal hammer; therefore, there is no problem attributing fragility to window glass. Fetuses do not always go on to evince human wisdom; therefore, their possession of the dispositional property is suspect. Given that the burden of proof rests with Noonan and with genetic humanism in general, it seems most reasonable to take the common sense view and conclude that because a fetus is currently unable to evidence human wisdom, rationality, or self–consciousness, it does not have a right to life grounded in any of those properties.[31]

The ‘Our Species’ Theme

Is the argument that mere genetic endowment grounds the fetal right to life more persuasive? At the beginning of his article, Noonan repeats the traditional assertion that whatever is born of human parents is human, and, therefore, has a human’s moral status.[32] But it must still be explained why mere biological humanity is a sufficient ground for a right to life. Again, Noonan fails to do. Perhaps his view is that because a fetus is biologically human, it is already so valuable that it warrants a right to life.[33] However, if this is the basis of genetic humanism’s case, much more needs to be said. Given the ease of production, and the super–abundance of the rational, self–conscious creatures into whom human fetuses grow, it is hard to understand why they should be so prized. Granted a fetus is a natural wonder, and an object of awe and protectiveness, it still does not follow that a fetus warrants a right to life.

But perhaps my view of genetic humanism is too secular. Although Noonan concentrates on arguments accessible to those who do not share his Christian faith, Donceel links the right to life to ensoulment, the uniting of a human fetus with a soul. This clearly theological context may be the only one within which genetic humanism works because Christianity does ground the claim that humans have uniquely high value in the scheme of things. However, it is not a basis which non–Christians need accept.

Do Human Genes Warrant Some Moral Standing?

It still remains possible that mere genetic humanity secures some consideration for a fetus, and that, in itself, would be interesting.[34] To make the case, it must be argued that genetic humanity provides reason to take a fetus into account for its own sake when decisions affect it. This must apply even to very early fetuses, and there are only two ways to affect an early fetus: one is to terminate its development; the other is to modify its genetic programme.

Suppose that an unwanted early fetus (a conceptus) is allowed to develop for a week or two, then destroyed without harm to its host. What wrong has been done? Despite the wealth of literature dealing with the abortion issue, there is no readily discernible wrong, and certainly none that is attributable to a conceptus’s possession of human genes.[35] Now, suppose that ways are found to modify conceptuses so that they grow into ‘designer’ humans: factory workers receive scant curiosity and extra hands; policepersons have eyes about their heads like spiders. If this is morally wrong, and certainly such modifications are ‘intuitively’ disturbing, then the mere possession of human genes cannot be what makes it wrong. If a conceptus was modified for purely experimental reasons, then destroyed shortly afterwards, the act would be morally equivalent to early abortion and acceptable. Thus, any wrongness inherent in genetic manipulation must have to do with carrying the fetus to term and bearing a modified child. This suggests that modifying human genes per se is not wrong; the locus of offense is the resulting person, and, perhaps, the community they join. In sum, there is no apparent reason why the mere posession of human genes secures moral standing.

Chapter Four
SENTIENTISM IN THE UTILITARIAN TRADITION

________________________________________________________

Historically, classical utilitarianism’s emphasis on the moral significance of pleasure and pain offers the first account of moral scope to rival humanism. Right actions are identified with those promoting pleasure, wrong actions are identified with those promoting pain,[1] and, because the human capacity for pleasure and pain is shared by many nonhumans, it becomes possible to argue that consistency requires taking nonhuman pleasures and pains into account when choosing actions. As Jeremy Bentham says in an oft–quoted passage: “The question is not, Can they reason? nor Can they talk? but Can they suffer?”[2] However, although this charitable perception dates to the 19th century, Bentham’s ambition that, “the rest of the animal creation may acquire those rights which never could have been withholden from them but by the hand of tyranny”,[3] sported few champions until the final quarter of the present century. It may be significant, or it may be simply ironic, but it is only now, just as vitalists and ecosophists are urging much greater expansion, that concern for nonhumans is becoming respectable.

The present chapter will ask how strong a case can currently be made for following Bentham’s lead and enfranchising roughly all creatures capable of suffering, for broadly utilitarian reasons. In other words, we shall be asking: Is sentience a sufficient condition of moral standing? The question whether sentience is also necessary for moral standing, and, thus, whether sentientism is able to block expansion across the mattering gap, will be reserved for separate discussion later.

AN EVOLVING CRITERION

The Capacity For Feeling Or Affect

Although Bentham no longer lacks philosophical heirs, their talk now is more of ‘sentience’ than ‘suffering’. That change warrants an explanation plus a recognition that academic philosophers do not use ‘sentience’ in quite the dictionary sense. Whereas the O. E. D. glosses sentience as, “the power of perception by the senses”, philosophy use it to mean roughly ‘the capacity for feeling, pleasure, and suffering’. For example, Peter Singer tells us that he is:[4]

...using the term [sentience] as a convenient, if not strictly accurate, shorthand for the capacity to suffer or experience enjoyment or happiness...

Singer wants one word to do the job of several, and ‘sentience’ is to hand.

In L. W. Sumner’s later discussion of sentience, the acknowledgement that the word is a term of art has been dropped, and the definition is more extensive:[5]

Sentience is the capacity for feeling or affect. In its most primitive form it is the ability to experience sensations of pleasure and pain, and thus the ability to enjoy or suffer. Its more developed forms include wants, aims, and desires (and thus the ability to be satisfied and frustrated); attitudes, tastes, and values; and moods, emotions, sentiments and passions.

Later, we shall find Sumner using this extended definition to support his claim that sentience is necessary for moral standing, but even in advance of that, the broader definition offers clear advantages.

Two Forms Of Sentience

For sentience to be a useful criterion of moral standing, it must be possible to decide which creatures are sentient. Is a mouse sentient? Singer’s definition affords an unequivocal answer: because a mouse can suffer, it is sentient. But what about more simple organisms? Invertebrates, which are probably not capable of suffering in any conscious sense, still manufacture the natural opiates associated with pleasure and pain. Are invertebrates sentient?

It is more difficult to respond with confidence, this time, but Sumner’s fuller definition of ‘sentience’ affords a partial answer. ‘Primitive forms’; of sentience makes possible benefits and harms associated with agreeable or disagreeable sensations; and ‘developed forms’ of sentience make possible benefits and harms associated with satisfied or frustrated desires, wants, and (conscious) aims, and with the possession of attitudes, tastes etc. Psychologically simple life–forms can only receive benefits and harms of the first sort, but more complex life–forms can increasingly receive benefits and harms of the second sort. As Sumner says, invertebrates are sentient if they are capable of enjoying benefits or harms of at least the first sort: that makes invertebrates sentient if they have disagreeable sensations.[6]

A Very Similar Extension

In practice, the dictionary’s “power of perception by the senses” (or ‘sensory awareness’) seems to be unfailingly allied to at least some capacity for agreeable and disagreeable sensations. Thus, ‘sentience’ in the dictionary sense extends to the same organisms as ‘sentience’ in the analytic sense.[7] However, understanding contemporary sentientism is going to require us to recognise in what sense contemporary philosophers speak of ‘sentience’.[8]

A Divided Movement

Historically, sentientists differ in the way they ground their sentientism. Whereas Bentham wanted to make the simple capacity for suffering the basis of moral concern, contemporary sentientists are more likely to refer to the ‘interests’ sentient creatures have in virtue of the capacities noted by Sumner. This difference between what I call ‘hedonic’ and ‘interest–based’ sentientism can become blurred when interest theorists stress the moral importance of suffering, but the accounts are broadly distinct: hedonic sentientism is concerned solely with pleasures and pains while interest–based sentientism recognises various kinds of interests associated with different degrees and kinds of awareness. In addition, some contemporary sentientists also disagree deeply about both the theoretical basis and the precise extent of the moral franchise: there is an on–going debate between broadly utilitarian versions of sentientism (particularly as they are championed by Singer) and Tom Regan’s rights–based account (which seeks to ground consideration in capacities roughly limited to the higher mammals).

Given these several differences within sentientism, I am going to treat hedonic sentientism, interest–based sentientism, and a third (relatively non–partisan, but still broadly) utilitarian version of sentientism as related but distinct topics within the present chapter. Regan’s quite separate form of sentientism will then be reserved as a chapter topic in itself.

HEDONIC SENTIENTISM

Bentham’s Legacy

In a famous review for the New York Review of Books, Singer takes on Bentham’s mantle and offers the following clear restatement of classical utilitarian doctrine:[9]

If a being suffers, there can be no moral justification for refusing to take that suffering into consideration, and indeed, to count it equally with the like suffering (if rough comparisons can be made) of any other being.

In his later writing, Singer embeds his compassionate heritage in the more sophisticated rhetoric of preference (or ‘interests’) utilitarianism. But, for now, it is the unadorned appeal to suffering I wish to consider.

The Argument From Suffering

Stated briefly, this appeal to suffering provides an argument for moral expansion which runs as follows: If all human suffering is morally significant — regardless of the presence or absence of the full range of normal human capacities — then consistency requires treating all comparable nonhuman suffering as significant, too. This entails extending the moral franchise to all sentient creatures.[10]

It will be useful to ‘unpack’ this summary a little, and present it as an initial three–step ‘argument from suffering’:

· Received morality holds human suffering to be bad in itself, and it requires us to avoid causing avoidable human suffering. Moral agents are enjoined to take human suffering into account when deciding how to act.

· If unnecessary human suffering is morally repugnant, then consistency requires taking the same view of nonhuman suffering unless there is a demonstrable, morally significant difference between humans and nonhumans. This difference must involve characteristics shared by humans of all ages and capacities. (This is because the suffering of even the most emotionally and intellectually limited is deemed morally important.) The only possibly relevant characteristics are a capacity to suffer and genetic humanity. Nonhumans suffer, too; therefore, any morally significant difference between humans and nonhumans has to depend on the possession and absence of genetic humanity. But to distinguish between humans and nonhumans on this basis alone is arbitrary preference.[11]

· It is, therefore, irrational to treat human suffering as morally significant while ignoring comparable nonhuman suffering. Nonhuman suffering must be taken into account, too, and that makes sentient nonhumans morally considerable.

Resisting The Argument From Suffering

A critic has three options for resisting this conclusion: she may claim that human and non–human suffering are not comparable, deny that received morality views the comparable suffering of all humans as significant, or attempt to display some morally relevant difference between humans and nonhumans which the argument from suffering has overlooked.

In discussion, I have heard the first option taken when it is said that because sentient nonhumans lack human levels of self–awareness, they cannot suffer as we do. However, received morality holds all human suffering important, including the suffering of those humans who lack normal self–awareness. Such suffering has more in common with nonhuman suffering than with the value–added pain of intensely self–aware, human suffering, and if it matters in humans, reason must be shown why it fails to be morally important in nonhumans. [12]

In support of the second option, a critic might claim (with Melden) that received morality assigns vanishingly small significance to the suffering of sociopaths and others outside the moral community because they do not reciprocate obligations or friendly treatment. But this is false. For example, torturing a psychopath for amusement would generally be held wrong, and at least part of the reason why it would be thought wrong is that it inflicts needless pain. What is probably correct is that received morality does not weigh the suffering of all humans equally. But, remember, the initial question is not about relative degrees of moral significance; it just asks which things warrant some consideration. Received morality does accord some consideration to all humans and some significance to all human suffering.

The third option requires a critic to display an overlooked difference between humans and nonhumans which justifies denying moral significance to nonhuman suffering. Given that all humans must be on the winning side of this distinction, what I earlier called generous moral humanism offers a criterion of moral standing which is an obvious choice: all humans are members of, or have interests which interpenetrate with humans who are members of, a reciprocating moral community. The question, now, is whether hedonic sentientism has the resources to reject this fundamental assertion.

Moral Humanism Digs Its Heels In

On the humanist side, it will be argued (as described in the previous chapter) that morality’s justifying purpose, as a social institution, is the protection and welfare of the community of moral agents. This mandate is said both to generate a moral franchise extending to all humans and limit that franchise to humans. I have argued that there is reason for humanism to go further and enfranchise many domestic, sentient nonhumans as well, but because that will be thought controversial by many humanists, let us limit discussion initially to the moral humanism which balks at a moral franchise any larger than humanity.

Hedonic sentientism may respond, initially, by urging humanists to follow the logic of their own desideratum. Just as it is advantageous for a moral community to view all avoidable human suffering as evil, so a community which extends this attitude to avoidable nonhuman suffering will tend to be generally more compassionate and afford its human members greater security. This accords well with moral humanism’s informing concern for human welfare and offers reason why humanists should not resist the assertion that nonhuman suffering matters for its own sake.

But this argument is certainly not conclusive. Humanism may reply that it underestimates our capacity for marking moral distinctions and that adequate concern for human suffering is achievable without enfranchising nonhumans. At this stage, the issue becomes primarily empirical and hard to resolve. However, it is important to point out to humanists that moral humanism has already displayed a mistrust of such distinctions by extending consideration to humans who are neither moral agents nor close associates, on the grounds that doing so enhances the security and well–being of all. If the distinction between considerable and inconsiderable humans is unsafe, why should we not mistrust the consequences of trying to distinguish between considerable and inconsiderable suffering? Someone who can ignore a tormented cat is not a person I would entrust my welfare to: callousness to suffering is callousness to suffering wherever the suffering occurs.

A Possibility To Note

Sentientists may also wish to appeal to more subtle benefits accruing from moral expansion, such as the effects of a broadly compassionate outlook on the person holding it. But this must be done carefully. Although the ill effects of cruelty on the person responsible for it have traditionally furnished reason to avoid unnecessary nonhuman suffering, citing this reason alone undercuts the case for moral expansion. This is because an entity with moral standing is one which must be taken into account for the entity’s own sake, and if nonhuman suffering is deemed significant only because of the consequences for the agent, then nonhumans are not being taken into account for their own sakes.[13] What is necessary is to argue that because of the broad advantages of an expanded moral franchise, nonhumans should be granted consideration in themselves. This is a form of argument I wish to set aside for later exploration because standard apologia for hedonic sentientism do not offer it.

Two Different Conceptions Of Morality

Everything now being said on behalf of sentientism cites the benefits of moral expansion, and that is significant. In Part One, it was noted that disagreement over the initial question soon resolves into a debate about different axiomatic conceptions of morality’s informing purpose and aims, at which time expansionists resort to advertising the relative attractions of their wares. This is what I have just been attempting to do on behalf of hedonic sentientism, but, so far, the case is less than overwhelming.[14] On the one hand, moral humanism still views morality primarily as a foundation for human community, and concludes, on that basis, that nonhumans largely lack moral standing. On the other hand, hedonic sentientism views morality primarily as an institution concerned with pleasure and suffering however they are embodied.

Once this basic issue is recognised, sentientism may attempt to gain some leverage by making a concession. It can be admitted that classical utilitarianism probably offers too simplistic an account of the moral perspective in its entirety while still championing utilitarianism’s insistence that suffering is morally significant wherever it occurs. For many of us, the moral significance of pain is as axiomatic as humanism’s explanation of morality’s mandate, and we can claim a fair degree of support from current moral practice. But how shall we answer a convinced humanist who grudgingly sanctions moral expansion only so long as it unquestionably benefits humans, and views new model humanism as the maximum possible compromise? Classical utilitarianism provides no further response beyond the simple insistence that moral humanism misunderstands the nature of morality. Humanists will say the same of classical utilitarianism, and so dialogue reaches deadlock.

In order to continue the debate, sentientism can engage humanism directly over the question of morality’s mandate, attempt to develop a version of the argument from suffering which will overcome humanist opposition, or, perhaps, do both. Let us begin with the second option and Singer’s revision of the argument from suffering.

INTEREST–BASED SENTIENTISM

Interests, Preferences, And Desires

Singer’s later, more developed, response to humanism utilises a version of what he calls ‘preference utilitarianism’, and we need an understanding of what this moral theory involves. Shunning the classical reference to pleasure and happiness, Singer’s preference utilitarianism variously defines right actions as those which maximise preference or interest satisfaction.[15] Singer does not explicitly describe a relationship between preferences and interests (perhaps he finds it obvious), but he does treat preference as a component of interests and as a reliable guide to interests. Given the subsequent focus on granting equivalent interests equal moral importance, it seems that, despite its name, Singer’s preference utilitarianism is primarily concerned with interests; preferences are significant because they are indicative of interests.

Singer also recognises desire as a component of interests,[16] and his usual practice is to ignore the one when writing of the other. This suggests that they are often interchangeable, and at least one critic, Regan, takes interchangeability a step further, describing Singer’s utilitarianism as the theory that right actions are those whose consequences “further the interests (i.e., desires or preferences) of those affected”.[17] Regan’s paranthetical gloss suggests that desires and preferences are equivalent to interests for Singer’s purposes, but this does Singer a disservice. Preference and desire do not always coincide with interests because a creature may have interests which are not being clearly evinced through preference or desire. For example, alcoholic humans frequently ignore food despite being malnourished. And, as the same example illustrates, an organism may also have interests contrary to preference or desire. In consequence, maximising interest satisfaction may sometimes require ignoring expressed preference and desire.[18]

‘Interests’ Utilitarianism

For all these reasons, I shall adopt the following definitive reading of Singer’s ‘preference’ utilitarianism which, on obvious grounds, might have been better called ‘interests utilitarianism’:

Singer’s UTILITARIANISM requires a moral agent to maximise the interest satisfaction of all creatures affected by the agent’s actions. Preference and desire are a guide to interests, but they are not totally reliable.

For completeness, a thorough explanation of what constitutes an ‘interest’ needs to accompany this definition, but let us rely, for now, on our ordinary (‘intuitive’) understanding of ‘interests’ as they are ascribed to sentient beings. Singer does not offer an explicit explanation, and I shall discuss the contribution of sentientists who do in a later chapter.

The Principle Of Impartiality

In practice, the bare injunction to maximise interest satisfaction benefits from an additional principle. To see why, suppose that I am out on my bike, and I meet two fellow cyclists who have ridden over glass, ruining a tyre apiece. To whom should I give my one spare tyre? Clearly, I am required to donate my tyre so as to maximise interest satisfaction. But suppose that one of the cyclists is a friend and the other is unknown to me. My inclination would be to give the spare to my friend, but doing so may not maximise interest satisfaction if the other cyclist has urgent business.

In situations like this, Singer advocates a traditional principle of impartiality requiring, “that we give equal weight in our moral deliberations to the like interests of all those affected by our actions.”[19] He advises that a moral agent should imagine “living the lives of all affected” by a decision to act, determine what action “satisfies more preferences, adjusted according to the strength of the preferences”, and act accordingly.[20] Alternatively, a moral agent may imagine herself an impartial observer equally concerned for the interests of all affected.[21] None of this allows me to follow personal inclination in handing over my spare tyre: I must give it to whoever has the greatest interest in continuing their journey.

The Argument From Interest

Supplemented by the principle of impartiality, Singer’s utilitarianism now supports a modified version of the earlier argument from suffering, which I call ‘the argument from interest’:[22]

· A moral agent should seek to maximise interest satisfaction in such a way as to satisfy an impartial observer. (It is helpful to imagine that the observer will partake equally — and simultaneously, if necessary — of the pleasures and pains, satisfactions and frustrations, of all individual interest holders.)

· In order to satisfy such an impartial observer, a moral agent must take into account all significant interests affected by an action and assign equal weight to comparable interests.

· A moral agent must, therefore, take account of any significant nonhuman interests affected by an action and weigh them equitably during decision making. Because all sentient creatures have, at a minimum, a significant interest in avoiding suffering, all sentient creatures have an interest to take account of and weigh. They are, therefore, quite clearly morally considerable.

Carrying The Debate Back To Humanism

Granted the impartiality principle which this argument starts with, the conclusion is inescapable, and a humanist must deny that morality requires the impartial maximisation of interest satisfaction.[23] For support, moral humanism can again turn to its understanding of morality’s mandate which — consistent with the new focus on interests — may be described as promoting the interests of reciprocating members of the moral community and, by extension, the interests of all non–reciprocating members. Although satisfying this mandate will almost certainly entail some degree of impartiality on the part of moral agents, it is an open question how large a degree. Thus, the disagreement between moral humanism and interest–based sentientism seems to come down to the question whether moral agents must act so as to satisfy an impartial observer, or need only satisfy some humbler criterion of impartiality.

Impartiality: A Problematic Ideal

In practice, most of us regularly fail to take a fully impartial account of all the interests affected by our actions. As described earlier, if I met two cyclists who needed my spare tyre, my natural inclination would be to give it to the one who was my friend. And in a more serious situation, with more than a bike ride at stake, my inclination to prefer my friend would be stronger. Singer discusses this problem at length. His stance is similar to that of William Godwin, whom he offers as an example of a moral theorist committed to impartiality. Godwin asserted that impartiality is required of us in all circumstances, even if that should mean leaving one’s father to die in a fire in order to rescue his (more socially useful) employer.[24] Godwin was bitterly condemned for this claim, but, although he eventually decided that rescuing one’s father may not be blameworthy, he never retracted the logic of his position. Although Singer presents anthropological and ‘rule–benefit’ reasons to explain why everyday morality should accept that moral agents will be biased towards family and friends,[25] like Godwin, he continues to insist that referring moral decisions to an impartial observer is the way to set the standard for right action.[26] My understanding is that Singer thinks ‘human nature’, and the psychological difficulties which would ensue if moral agents attempted a totally impartial view of interests, entail that, in practice, interest satisfaction is maximised by allowing certain kinds of preferential treatment. However, he thinks that if we could rely on moral agents to be consistently impartial, then that would yield a better result.

The Depth Of The Problem

I know of no way to decide whether the latter claim is true, but I do anticipate serious problems as a result of making total impartiality a moral desideratum. To begin with, note that the preferential treatment of close associates is likely to remain part of received moral practice whatever moral ideals we espouse. Thus, there will be a permanent discrepancy between received moral practice and the ideal of impartiality. This places conscientious moral agents in a difficult position: whereas common moral practice involves expectations of preferential treatment, ideal morality gainsays those expectations.

In effect, the conscientious moral agent faces a double standard. Even if the totally impartial view is, strictly speaking, the right one to adopt, recognising special obligations to close associates runs deep (as Singer acknowledges), and virtue’s glow will hardly ease the conflict and pain consequent on trying to ignore them. In justice to Singer, I think it is precisely his awareness of this problem which makes him willing to lower his expectations, but lowered expectations do not solve the problem.

Suppose that, in an attempt to avoid impossible conflict without abandoning the impartiality requirement altogether, strict impartiality is downgraded from a moral ideal (something which we are enjoined to realise) to a theoretical moral starting point. Divergence from impartiality will always require justification — either in terms of interest satisfaction, or as a necessary concession to traditional practice and ‘human nature’ — but, once justified, divergence will carry no stigma.[27] No obvious double standard will be created; however, so long as complete impartiality remains even a theoretical point of departure, it will follow that, were we capable of living by the impartial view, doing so would be best. In consequence, moral theory will convey the negative message that humans are too flawed to live by a fully rational morality. Although some religious traditions may seem to have been built around this belief, it is not a useful or productive one, conveying, as it does, a negative assessment of our own abilities. We need a moral outlook more concurrent with a positive understanding of whom and what we are.

Weakening The Principle

The impartiality requirement can be weakened further, and a more positive view of our moral nature emphasised, by abandoning the ideal of an impartial observer in favour of an ‘honest representative of usual moral practice’. Parts of Singer’s discussion lend themselves to just this development. Using an evolutionary argument to explain why impartiality has become a feature of moral decision making, Singer suggests that morality traditionally involves justifying decisions and conduct to one’s neighbours, and he argues that satisfying those neighbours will frequently require taking a disinterested view of interests. Singer then suggests that thoughtful moral neighbours will only be fully satisfied if decisions and conduct would satisfy an impartial observer.[28]

But why suppose this? It is at least equally reasonable to think our neighbours will be satisfied by a moral outlook which is disinterested enough to promote the general welfare while still permitting everyone to exercise traditional preferences for close associates. In this case, instead of impartial observer theory, morality only needs that standard of impartiality which is generally required within the moral community and which may be summed up in the ideal of a thoughtful, honest moral practitioner.[29]

Back To The Fundamental Issue

If impartial observer theory is rejected, or even if it is reduced to a theoretical starting point, then what follows is a serious weakening of the argument from interest. Instead of appealing to an ideal of complete impartiality to explain the moral significance of nonhuman interests, sentientism must offer reasons for requiring that moral agents view all comparable interests with enough impartiality to justify moral expansion. Given that moral humanism’s informing conception of morality implicitly denies that such a view is morally required, moral humanism and utilitarian sentientism are again faced with a need to address their differing conceptions of the moral enterprise. These conceptions underpin the disagreement about impartiality and cannot be subordinated to it for long.

Furthermore, even if we do personally endorse Singer’s full impartiality requirement, there is still a major disagreement to address: a humanist like Melden remains free to assert that neither concern for nonhuman interests, nor an impartiality principle which extends to nonhumans, have any part in humanism’s conception of morality. Settling the issue will then require us to determine just what ‘the moral point of view’ does demand of us in the way of impartiality. And, as the above discussion indicates, there is pretty fundamental disagreement about that. In other words, the root problem, here, is not going to go away. It bears summarising and restating: the disagreement about impartiality is unlikely to be settled without, in some way, settling a more general and fundamental disagreement over the nature of the moral enterprise.

Two important consequences now follow from this. First, pursuing the problem of impartiality per se is unlikely to shed light on the initial question. In order to develop a more solid case for sentientism, we must discuss morality’s mandate. Second, the argument from interest, which takes the principle of impartiality as its initial premise, risks begging the initial question by assuming an account of morality which entails a particular answer. This further reduces the credence we should place in the argument from interest.

SOFT (NON–PARTISAN) SENTIENTISM

Singer’s Rapprochement

Although Singer never explicitly identifies his difference with humanism as being about the purpose of morality, his writing does contain a version of the argument from suffering which attempts to bridge the gap between the two different conceptions.[30] Singer begins by acknowledging that the original purpose of morality probably was limited to securing mutual benefits for human agents. But he urges that the habits of moral thought which a moral community encourages will, over time, make it increasingly difficult for rational agents to accept a moral franchise exclusive to humans. His argument to this effect forms what I call the ‘argument from rational generosity’:

· Moral agents are required to take a largely impartial view of comparable human interests except in certain special circumstances. (As discussed above, Singer thinks that a totally impartial moral perspective is the moral ideal, or point of departure, with allowable deviations. But the requirement could equally well be to satisfy the ideal of the honest moral practitioner.)

· Moral impartiality is, in part, guarded by a concern for rational consistency. Rational consistency requires taking equal account of like human and nonhuman interests unless there is good reason to disregard the nonhuman interests.

· Nonhumans have a clear interest in avoiding suffering. Given the absence of any possible morally relevant difference between suffering humans and nonhumans other than their genetic differences, impartiality and consistency provide reason to take account of the nonhuman interest in avoiding suffering. Therefore, sentient nonhumans are morally considerable. Furthermore, ignoring nonhuman suffering and moral standing will, with near inevitability, yield ‘psychic dissonance’ in anyone sensitive to the need for impartiality and consistency in moral judgements.

Singer’s Strategy

Singer’s strategy is interesting. Although he employs the vocabulary of interests and makes classical utilitarianism’s concern for suffering the final ground for moral expansion, there is nothing in the argument which requires us to be utilitarians. All we need accept is that suffering, impartiality, and rational consistency are important in moral reasoning. This absence of detailed theoretical support is a strength, not a weakness, in an argument which seeks widespread acceptance, and it will be convenient to identify a distinct version of sentientism founded in this approach. I shall call it ‘soft sentientism’. Also note that Singer is returning the burden of proof to the critic by claiming that everyday morality already fosters habits of thought and practice which make it unreasonable to treat like suffering in different ways. Finally, Singer argues that ignoring nonhuman moral standing will result in psychic dissonance, in other words, a state of emotional and intellectual discomfort similar to the experience of trying to embrace a contradiction. Singer is saying that it is nigh impossible for a conscientious moral agent, brought up in our traditions, to treat nonhuman suffering as inconsiderable.

Continuing Debate

This strategy is effective. Clearly, sentient nonhumans suffer and have ‘interests’ in a manner similar to humans. Coupled with impartiality and consistency, and without too much of a theoretical burden, this seems enough to settle the issue: sentient nonhumans are considerable.[31] Furthermore, Singer appears to be right when he postulates an evolutionary expansion of received morality — at least in the English–speaking world — as part and parcel of a concern for greater consistency. My experience is that young people are noticeably more receptive to moral expansion than their elders, and they have an expanded sense of ‘fairness’ which suggests a recent broadening of the moral franchise.

However, moral evolution cuts two ways. My own moral outlook is arguably a consequence of a general expansion of moral sympathy which has occurred during the latter half of the 20th century. Am I caught up in a moral trend flawed in ways I am not noticing? Partly as an antidote to this possibility, and partly because it is important to secure humanist support for moral expansion,[32] I am going to play devil’s advocate: How might a moral humanist respond to Singer? What else is there to say in support of the argument from rational generosity?

A False Doctrine, Or A Moral Inevitability?

Humanism’s best strategy is to argue that while it may, indeed, be hard for many of us to deny moral consideration to sentient nonhumans, that is because we are possessed of a false doctrine and morally confused. The demands for impartiality and consistency cited by the argument from generosity arise within the human community, and they do not logically require any extension beyond that community. Human morality is self contained, and any ‘psychic dissonance’ consequent on resisting moral expansion can be corrected by properly understanding this.

But Singer has a reply. He is saying that demands for impartiality and consistency have evolved because they serve the interests of the moral community by overcoming the arbitrariness of decisions based on preferences for personal welfare or the welfare of some group. Because of this role, impartiality and consistency have gradually become a central feature of morality until they are now powerful enough concerns to lead rational moral agents beyond their original preoccupation with human interests.[33] Just as I claimed, earlier, that a broadly compassionate moral attitude open to all suffering benefits humans, so Singer is now saying that impartiality and consistency broad enough to enfranchise nonhumans benefits us. This speaks directly to moral humanism’s concern for human welfare; however, it is open to the humanist objection that it remains largely a speculative, empirical claim.

Experiments In Psychic Dissonance

Singer also has ‘psychic dissonance’ to appeal to. Suppose that a moral humanist is willing to agree, initially, to the expansion I called ‘new model humanism’ and to enfranchising sheep dogs. Can one really maintain that a sheep dog is considerable whereas the wild deer it finds caught in a barbed wire fence is not? [34] If anything promises psychic dissonance this does. But a humanist might take that as further evidence of the need to resist all expansion beyond humankind.

Perhaps a less partisan thought experiment will bring psychic dissonance closer to humanism’s own concerns. Suppose that an inherently sadistic, but usually cautious and conventionally behaved person finds herself alone with a sentient creature who neither belongs to a moral community, nor has caring friends or relatives. It is possible to torture and kill this creature without anyone else ever being affected. Doing so will bring the sadist pleasure and release, but it will not increase her sadism, add to the emotional problems which have made her a sadist, or weaken any effect her moral education has had. Would the torture be morally wrong?

Imagine, first, that the creature is a senile old man with no living relatives or friends; second, that he is a psychopath; third, that he is a cat. Moral humanism had to struggle and compromise in order to explain why it is wrong to torture the old man, greater difficulty explaining why it is wrong to torture a psychopath who has never contributed to the community, and apparently nothing at all to say against torturing the cat. Can an honest, conscientious moral agent raised in our moral traditions truly appreciate and live with these moral limits? If so, the case against moral humanism remains incomplete. If not, humanists must become sentientists.[35]

Sentientism In Practice

Sometimes, it seems that once debate reaches this stage, fear of sentientism’s adverse effect on human welfare is all that is left holding humanists back. But although Singer has made a considerable reputation defending vegetarianism and the need to curtail experiments on nonhumans, and although he argues cogently that an impartial appraisal of human and nonhuman interests make agribusiness practices and much research indefensible,[36] he is adamant that medical research is frequently a different issue:[37]

...would the opponent of experimentation be prepared to let thousands die from a terrible disease which could be cured by experimenting on one animal? This is a purely hypothetical question, since experiments do not have such dramatic results, but...I think the question should be answered affirmatively — in other words, if one, or even a dozen animals had to suffer experiments in order to save thousands, I would think it right...

Morally considerable entities are not beyond all sacrifice according to Singer’s vision of sentientism.[38]

An Inconclusive End To The Present Debate

This completes the sentientist case which utilitarian philosophers have built around Bentham’s concern for nonhuman suffering. Has enough now been said to constitute a rationally satisfactory case for making sentience (in the analytic sense) a sufficient condition of moral standing? The argument from rational generosity offers the best case by combining elements of hedonic and interest–based sentientism without the burden of utilitarian moral theory, and it goes a long way to explaining the pre–theoretical sense that a capacity for suffering should be sufficient to secure moral standing. But I still find that in debate moral humanists will retreat behind the logic of humanism’s conception of morality’s mandate and resist any attempt to establish commonality. Why do they not share the sense that all suffering is morally important? After all, Singer claims that what I am calling ‘soft sentientism’ should be compelling for anyone raised in our moral traditions.

A ready explanation is that Singer overestimates our tradition’s homogeneity. From a humanist perspective, sentientism’s focus on suffering and interests per se is a radical and controversial change; it requires a new conception of morality’s purpose which is more appropriately represented as a (literal) ‘paradigm shift’ than by Singer’s chosen figure of a smoothly expanding circle. I, therefore, urge that if the movement for moral expansion is to be seen to do justice by humanism (and humanist support matters, given the practical importance of the initial question), proponents of greater moral generosity must address the differences between humanism and sentientism — and this matter of the paradigm shift — more directly than Singer does. It is not enough to gesture, even eloquently, at a probable process of moral evolution. But before we attempt any new insights, or try to make any new contributions to the disagreement between humanism and sentientism, we must explore what the other arguments for increased moral generosity have to say. In consequence, the humanist–sentientist debate is now set aside until we take it up again in Chapter Nine.

Chapter Five
SENTIENTISM WITHOUT AGGREGATION

________________________________________________________

Beside the broadly utilitarian approach of the last chapter, we need to set Tom Regan’s dispute with Singer. Regan argues that maximising aggregated interest satisfaction — which is how Singer’s utilitarianism seeks impartiality — is incompatible with received morality, and it vitiates interest–based sentientism. This criticism offers an important perspective on the utilitarian approach to moral expansion, and Regan’s ‘rights–view’ is a possible alternative to soft sentientism.

There are two aspects to Regan’s rejection of interest–based sentientism which it is helpful to recognise from the outset. On one hand, Regan, like Singer, wants the higher mammals protected from human abuse. However, Regan is not satisfied that utilitarian sentientism affords them adequate protection. As discussed in the last chapter, human welfare sometimes appears to justify sacrificing nonhuman lives and interests, and Regan hopes to show that the higher mammals warrant a degree of moral standing which virtually precludes this.

On the other hand, Regan develops an account of moral scope which will secure his goal by taking issue with Singer’s form of utilitarianism per se. In papers and a book published over about ten years,[1] Regan increasingly comes to offer the rights–view as a necessary antidote to Singer’s moral theory independently of any need for moral expansion.[2] His tactic is, first, to exhibit a flaw in Singer’s utilitarianism (maximising aggregated interest satisfaction sometimes entails sacrificing human life, contrary to received morality); second, to repair the difficulty (by ascribing a virtually inalienable right to life to individuals); third, to show us that, in consequence, many nonhumans are as morally well–protected as humans (they satisfy the criterion for a right to life).

There is nothing disingenuous about this combination of personal motive and philosophical tactic, and Regan is quite open about his search for a means to a very specific end.[3] However, the possibility for confusing Regan’s motives with his argument remain, if only because he is so explicit about the former. In offering a critical appraisal of the rights view, I shall attempt to provide a brief guide to Regan’s argument which separates these two aspects.

CAN HUMAN LIFE BE LEGITIMATELY SACRIFICED?

Introducing Aunt Bea

Regan thinks Singer’s problems begin when (true to utilitarianism) he defines a right action as one which maximises preference or interest satisfaction. To make his point, Regan asks us to suppose that by secretly killing his rich and elderly Aunt Bea, he will inherit her fortune. In consequence, Regan will be able to satisfy many of his own interests and, through acts of generousity, many interests held by other people. In such a case, says Regan, Singer must judge that killing Aunt Bea is justified: after all, the killing will maximise interest satisfaction. But Regan insists that received morality holds such killing to be wrong. He concludes that Singer’s utilitarianism is incompatible with received morality and is, therefore, an unsatisfactory moral theory.[4]

Possible Responses

Before thrusting an alternative into the gap, Regan attributes a series of possible responses to Singer; he fears that Singer wants to ameliorate the incompatibility of utilitarianism and received morality.[5] Regan begins with Singer’s distinction between beings which are merely conscious and beings which are self–conscious. Singer argues that although a conscious being is aware, it is not aware of itself, and does not know that it has a future. Therefore, a conscious being cannot have a preference for living or dying. By contrast, a self–conscious being is self aware, knows that it has a future, and in all likelihood does prefer living to dying. Thus, when it comes to comparing interests, a self–conscious being (like a human) has a preference for life to take into account. It follows that the interests which would be satisfied by killing Aunt Bea and spending her fortune must be set against her own interest in living.

On behalf of received morality, Regan now asks, Will Aunt Bea’s interest in life always entail that killing Aunt Bea would be wrong? Singer recognises that it does not: “the wrong done to the person killed is merely one factor to be taken into account, and...could sometimes be outweighed by the preferences of others.”[6] Singer’s position is plain. The sacrifice of human life is morally acceptable when it maximises aggregated interest satisfaction.

Further Responses?

Regan’s other proffered loopholes do not offer positions I foresee Singer embracing. First, Singer is said to claim that whereas merely conscious beings are ‘receptacles’, whose moral significance is only the sum of their preferences, self–conscious beings have some moral worth in themselves, independently of their interests.

However, this appears to be a misreading. In the discussion Regan refers to, Singer is pointing out one advantage of contemporary utilitarianism over the classical form. Singer credits classical utilitarianism with valuing a person’s pleasure, but not valuing the person herself.[7] This has a disturbing consequence: if it is only pleasure per se which is of value, then there is no moral difference between euthanising Aunt Bea and distributing her share of pleasure amongst others, and letting Aunt Bea live. According to Singer, his version of utilitarianism avoids this problem by recognising that Aunt Bea has a unique and powerful interest in continuing her life. However, this does not entail that Bea has moral significance independently of her interests. Furthermore, and perhaps more fundamentally, there is nothing in Singer’s moral theory which would justify granting moral worth to self–conscious creatures independently of their interests.[8]

Second, Regan imagines Singer trying to enrich utilitarianism with a principle of equality which would require an even distribution of interest satisfaction.[9] I am not going to pursue this part of Regan’s argument because it is so unlikely Singer would try to espouse distributive equality. For one thing, a principle of distributive equality is bound to be in tension with utilitarianism’s aggregative goals, and, although current utilitarian theory is subtle, it is hard to imagine it defining right action solely in terms of aggregative preference satisfaction, then trying to avoid the conclusion that life may (sometimes) be legitimately sacrificed in order to maximise interest satisfaction elsewhere. Besides, Singer clearly tells us that he accepts the possibility of sacrifice.

Regan Is Unwilling To Compromise

Does all this mean that Regan is right, and Singer’s view of morality is seriously at odds with received moral thinking? Before we seek a definitive answer, it is important to recognise that the disparity is certainly less blatant than Regan perceives. Singer thinks that, in practice, utilitarian calculation rarely justifies sacrificing human life. He ascribes such a strong interest in living to self–conscious beings, based (as mentioned above) on their preference for continuing life, that he thinks other aggregated interests will not often outweigh it. Singer is sure that Aunt Bea’s interest in continuing her life will preclude the kind of easy killing Regan contemplates when he eyes Aunt Bea’s fortune.[10] The problem is that this seems not to be good enough for Regan: he is adamant that received morality rejects any possibility that human life can be legitimately sacrificed in order to maximise aggregated interest satisfaction, and he is sure that Singer’s moral theory is a threat to Aunt Bea.

TRIAL BY SHIPWRECK

The Dog In The Lifeboat

The question now is, Whose position best resembles received morality? In answering it, Regan takes up an example which proves to have unwelcome (and, for Regan, unanticipated) implications for the rights–view.

Regan asks us to suppose that there are four normal adults and a dog in a lifeboat big enough for four bodies.[11] Who goes overboard? The rights–view recognises that the adults and the dog have interests which are equally well protected from sacrifice. Therefore, the rights–view appears to offer no principled support for the common sense decision to throw out the dog and save the adults. But Regan argues that there is a factor to consider which will justify sacrificing the dog:[12]

...the harm that death is, is a function of the opportunities for satisfaction it forecloses, and no reasonable person would deny that the death of any of the four humans would be a greater prima facie loss, and thus a greater prima facie harm, than would be true in the case of the dog. Death for the dog...though a harm, is not comparable to the harm that death would be for any of the humans.

Regan is making a point which we will encounter again later: given the load on the lifeboat, at least one death is inevitable, and that makes it legitimate to act so as to maximise interest satisfaction. Note that, in a situation like this one, there is no question of having to aggregate interests.

Supposing I Had To Choose

But will a consequential calculation of relative individual loss necessarily harmonise with received morality in this case? Let us suppose that we are personally called on to decide who leaves the lifeboat; it behoves us to enquire closely into the prospects of each occupant, and what we find may contradict Regan’s verdict because humans have more opportunities for dissatisfaction and suffering than a dog. On balance, the family pet may have a better chance of a satisfying life than, for example, an alcoholic, unemployed, unskilled, middle–aged human with scant sources of satisfaction beyond pleasures he can no longer purchase. In which case, according to a consequential calculation, the dog should stay in the boat. I doubt that received morality concurs, and I am sure Regan would not welcome the outcome; however, it does appear a consequence of the decision procedure he recommends.

In support of Regan, it may be said that Singer’s utilitarianism entails the same decision, but this overlooks an important difference between the positions. Singer explicitly admits to some discrepancy between the consequences of utilitarian theory and received morality, and he tries to deal with the problem.[13] By contrast, Regan advertises the rights–view as compatible with received morality; that is one reason we are supposed to prefer the rights–view.

It may also be said that although Regan portrays death as a harm because of the opportunities for satisfaction which it forecloses, the interruption of plans is a harm independently of lost satisfaction.[14] And if plans are morally relevant, that may be one reason why received morality is so much more inclined to preserve humans than dogs: dogs do not have long term plans. But this does not help Regan either. Plans are not distributed equally amongst all humans — some intellectually impaired humans will have ‘plans’ hardly more complex than a dog’s — and if moral status is made to partly depend on the possession of plans, some humans are likely to be more morally significant than others. As we shall find shortly, this is contrary to Regan’s insistence that all humans have exactly the same moral claim upon us. Furthermore, correlating relative moral standing with plans is contrary to Regan’s desire to grant some nonhumans an equivalent claim. Thus, Regan does appear to be endorsing a satisfaction–based decision procedure which will not always accord with received morality.

Another Travel Disaster

Suppose, now, that the lifeboat is overloaded with an entirely human party. Regan would use a non–aggregative, consequential calculation of prospects in order to determine who is to be sacrificed. But suppose that four members of the party are sociopaths who still manage to get some enjoyment out of life, while the fifth is a gifted, but chronically depressed surgeon, who would have long ago committed suicide but for his sense of duty. Because Regan will not permit aggregation, he is going to have to let the surgeon take the swim.[15] However, my sense is that most people would wish to see one of the sociopaths leave the life raft; moreover, this decision can be justified by aggregating the interest satisfaction of the surgeon’s future clients. Here is an instance when permitting aggregation apparently yields a decision more in accord with received morality.

Shipwreck And Pestilence

Finally, suppose the dog is returned to the lifeboat, which is now big enough, and well provisioned enough, to sustain its passengers until rescue. Unfortunately, the dog carries a disease which will blind the human passengers if they catch it. Common sense dictates that the dog be thrown overboard. What is more, a dog will arguably lose less by dying than a human will lose by going blind; therefore, Regan’s rights–view can accommodate the decision to kill the dog so long as the losses and harms which are recognised as justifying sacrifice are not limited to the loss of life. But Regan would not accept this. Not only is he adamant that sacrifice is only justified when a life is already at stake, it would do him disservice to attribute the weaker position to him: if Regan sanctioned nonhuman sacrifice obviating loss less than life, then the door would be open to a host of possible consequential grounds for killing. This would prevent Regan securing the high level of moral protection for nonhumans which he seeks.

Brothers Under The Skin?

These examples — and they could easily be multiplied — indicate that, like Singer’s utilitarianism, Regan’s rights–view does not enjoy an untroubled relationship with received morality. For one thing, they both tend to sanction the sacrifice of human life when received morality would not (as in the extension of the first example). Furthermore, Regan’s view will sometimes indicate the sacrifice of a human life other than that chosen by received morality (the second example), or it will reject sacrifice of a nonhuman when received morality endorses it (the third example).

In consequence, there is a need to review our reading of Regan. Although he has advertised compatibility with received morality as a major strength of the rights–view, there is notable incompatibility. It is, therefore, best to read Regan as offering a reforming doctrine, rather than one supported by full compatibility with received morality. This puts Regan on a more equal footing with Singer. Regan seeks compatibility between moral theory and the crucial sense that human life can rarely be legitimately sacrificed, and Singer, too, can put his name to this so long as it does read ‘rarely’ and not ‘never’. The question, now, is whether Regan can convince us there is a case for preferring the rights–view, and rejecting all sacrifice based on aggregation, without casting Singer as the counter–intuitive villain and himself as the saving voice of common–sense.

THE INHERENT VALUE OF HUMAN LIFE

Protecting Aunt Bea

It is Singer’s utilitarian, interest–based, value assignations which support the view of legitimate sacrifice Regan objects to: if a person’s life is valued at the sum of her interests, its value can be outweighed by other people’s interests.[16] Therefore, in order to provide a theoretical basis for resistance to sacrifice based on aggregation (and other important human interests would seem to be as much at stake, here, as continued life), Regan argues that moral theory must assign value to individuals in a non–utilitarian way. He proposes granting a person an ‘inherent’ value independently of her interests which will take precedence over almost all other considerations.[17] The following argument against sacrificing Aunt Bea is then possible:

· Sacrificing Aunt Bea in order to maximise interest satisfaction is using her merely as a means of achieving the best aggregate consequences. (Except when the loss of a life is already inevitable.)

· Moral agents are required to adopt a Kantian view of “individuals who have...inherent value” and ensure that they are not “treated merely as means to securing the best aggregate consequences”.[18]

· Therefore, recognising that Aunt Bea has inherent value protects her against being sacrificed in order to maximise interest satisfaction. (Except when the loss of a life is already inevitable.)

The Exception

The parenthetical exception to this argument is important to Regan’s case. Without it, the conclusion would be highly questionable because — as already indicated by Regan’s introductory lifeboat example — treating someone as an end in herself is not always inconsistent with sacrificing her life for consequential reasons. To take a more mundane example of this, suppose that Bea crashed her car in such a way that freeing either Bea or her passenger from the wreckage will necessarily and equally endanger the other’s life. In this case, to treat Bea as an end in herself amongst other ends is arguably to weigh Bea’s interest in living alongside her passenger’s interest in living, then decide whose interest is greatest.[19] In other words — as mentioned above — when loss of life is already inevitable, Regan thinks it reasonable to decide who should die by asking who has the most to lose. Hence, Regan sanctions the parenthetical exception.[20]

A Practical Similarity And A Theoretical Difference

What Regan perceives as the essential flaw in Singer’s utilitarianism can now be placed alongside a definitive statement of his own view of legitimate sacrifice:

· Regan rejects preference utilitarianism because it sanctions consequential calculations which aggregate benefits and harms in such a way that a big harm (death) done to one person can be offset by a host of small benefits (interest satisfactions) enjoyed by many others.

· However, Regan does not reject all consequential calculations, only aggregative calculations, and calculations involving sacrifice which are made when death is not already inevitable. When death is inevitable, Regan explicitly recognises that it is legitimate to sacrifice one of the parties and to use a consequential calculation of their prospects in deciding who.

Given that Regan countenances sacrifice under some circumstances, that Singer is at pains to restrict legitimate sacrifice, and that both court incompatibility with received morality, there is now clear question whether Regan’s position is that different from Singer’s in practice. And when it comes time to decide how much credence to give the rights–view, this will be an important consideration. However, for now, it is the theoretical difference between Singer and Regan which demands our attention. Singer sanctions aggregating interests across individuals even when doing so legitimises otherwise avoidable sacrifice, and Regan absolutely opposes this in the name of the inherent value of the individual. Who is right?

Back In The Court Of Received Opinion

Because Regan is so concerned about received morality, it is reasonable to approach this question by asking whose position best coincides with our pre–theoretical understanding. The second lifeboat example (when it carried four sociopaths and a depressed surgeon) already tells against Regan, and it is easily replicated. Suppose that in a prison camp one person must die so that five hundred do not catch a seriously disabling disease. My sense is that received morality would sanction killing the one sick person. In general, when a lot of people are going to suffer a large loss which one major sacrifice will avoid, the major sacrifice is probably legitimate. Certainly, Regan must shoulder the burden of proof if he wants to assert otherwise.

But the opposite may be true when benefits not losses are at issue, as in the case of killing Aunt Bea. Would it be right for me to kill the heir to the Gucci fortune in order to endow university scholarships in philosophy? Probably not. How about killing enough rich people — and somehow acquiring their fortunes — to provide all capable candidates (world–wide) with a university education? Again, I think that received morality would balk at this. What is more, there is good reason why morality should not readily countenance sacrificing a human life for reasons of aggregated benefits however large or widespread: few of us could be convinced to accept the sacrifice of our own life on such a basis; thus, consistency makes it hard to require that others would. However, we might make the noble choice if we were, for example, untreatable disease carriers.

I urge that sacrifice is a more complex matter than either Singer or Regan seem to acknowledge. In consequence, Singer is arguably more in harmony with received morality when he claims that aggregating otherwise inevitable harms (less than the loss of life) can justify sacrificing a life. By the same token, Regan may be better tuned to everyday thinking when he rejects aggregated benefits as grounds for sacrifice. But, on the basis of argument by example, one cannot say with confidence that either is right.

SEEKING A BASIS FOR HUMAN VALUE

Two Questions Requiring Answers

To complete our understanding of the rights–view, we need Regan’s reasons for attributing adequate inherent value to individuals like Aunt Bea.[21] Regan introduces the additional notions of ‘rights’, ‘justice’, and ‘respect’ when discussing inherent value. Thus, there is also the question whether any, or all, of these notions should be read as the ground of Aunt Bea’s inherent value, or if they are best taken as explaining and illustrating what granting inherent value to Bea involves. That is the matter to settle first.

Rights, Justice, and Respect

Regan needs to secure a right to life for Aunt Bea which will protect her, and similar individuals, from being sacrificed to an aggregation of other interests. (This is the right which gives the ‘rights–view’ its name.) Underlying the right which Regan seeks he finds a ‘basic’ or ‘natural right’ to respect. By a ‘natural right’ Regan means one which is fully grounded in qualities possessed by the right holder.[22] Underlying the natural right to respect, Regan finds inherent value. Thus, the rights Regan is discussing are entirely dependent upon the possession of inherent value. The story regarding ‘justice’ is the same. ‘Just treatment’ is virtually defined as ‘the respect due to a creature with inherent value’.[23]

What of respect itself? In one passage Regan discusses a “respect principle” which precludes using inherently valuable persons “as if their value depended upon their utility”.[24] But the respect principle only says: “We are to treat those individuals who have inherent value in ways which respect their inherent value.” This amounts to saying that inherently valuable individuals must be treated as inherently valuable individuals. And when we look further, we find that this involves never using inherently valuable individuals “merely as means to securing the best aggregate consequences.” Thus, ‘respect’ makes no apparent contribution of its own;[25] respect, too, is based in inherent value.

Why Ascribe Inherent Value to Individuals?[26]

We can return to the question why inherent value should be ascribed to individuals like Aunt Bea, knowing that this is central to understanding the rights–view. Regan states that the inherent value of individuals must be independent of any qualities which individuals share unequally; otherwise, inherent value could not afford the near absolute and equal protection offered by received morality.[27] Given human diversity, this leaves few possible bases for inherent value. Regan presents his choice thus:[28]

It is the similarities between those human beings who most clearly, most noncontroversially have [inherent] value — the people reading this, for example — it is our similarities...that matter most. And the really crucial, the basic similarity is simply this; we are each of us the experiencing subject of a life, each of us a conscious creature having an individual welfare that has importance to us whatever our usefulness to others.

In other words, each of us has our own inner life — our own unique window on affairs, with our accompanying thoughts and sensations — and we all prize ourselves independently of our usefulness and our individual qualities and characteristics.[29] But this still leaves the question, Why does this preclude sacrificing experiencing subjects except when death is already inevitable?

Is That All?

In apparent answer, Regan offers a description of what it is like to be an experiencing subject:[30]

We want and prefer things; believe and feel things; recall and expect things. And all these dimensions of our life, including our pleasure and pain, our enjoyment and suffering, our satisfaction and frustration, our continued existence or our untimely death — all make a difference to the quality of our life as lived, as experienced by us as individuals.

However, this only appears to say that an experiencing subject has a capacity for pleasure and pain, and has preferences and interests. Granted, this is a commonality with sentient non–humans — especially the higher mammals Regan is so concerned about — and so here, at last, are clear grounds for extending moral consideration to other sentient beings. However, these are the same grounds cited by the interest–based sentientism which Regan rejects. What is more, they offer no apparent basis for a right to life. What are Regan’s reasons for claiming more than moral consideration for experiencing subjects.

AN UNFINISHED WORK?

Singer’s Theme

I confess to feeling let down and puzzled by this supposed denouement; it seems unequal to the theory Regan has constructed and to the conclusions he advocates. Let us look further.

Singer offers an interpretation of the rights–view which does complete the account:[31]

An experiencing subject is capable of pleasures and satisfactions which have intrinsic value. Life is a prerequisite for pleasures and satisfactions. Therefore, the life of an experiencing subject has value. Viewed impartially, the value of the life of one experiencing subject is equivalent to the value of the life of any other. Therefore, there can be no good reason to sacrifice one experiencing subject in order to enhance the life of another.

Singer’s emphasis on impartiality is, I think, a significant component of the rights–view given its final egalitarianism. But, in other respects, Singer’s reading is an unsatisfactory representation of Regan’s mature position.

A Utilitarian ‘Rights–View’

First, it is Singer, rather than Regan, who grounds the value of an experiencing life in pleasure and satisfaction. If life is only valuable because it makes pleasure and satisfaction possible, then life has instrumental, not inherent value. Furthermore, Regan criticises Singer for holding this view, arguing that it reduces experiencing life to the status of a ‘receptacle’, or ‘cup’, for pleasure, without value in itself.[32] Regan’s own consistent theme is that an experiencing life has inherent value independently of the pleasure or satisfaction it affords.

Second, Singer’s proposed argument does not support the conclusion that there can be no good reason for sacrificing one experiencing subject in order to advantage another. If lives are valuable because of the pleasure and satisfaction they afford, then there is a basis for discrimination: some lives offer better opportunities for pleasure and satisfaction than others, even on an impartial view, and they are, therefore, arguably more valuable. Regan must have his sights on a source of inherent value which is unaffected by differences in quality of life. In sum, Singer is presenting a utilitarian reading of the rights–view, rather than the rights–view itself.

Starting With Regan’s Own Assumptions

An alternative reading of Regan can be had by treating this ascription of inherent value, and a fundamental moral egalitarianism, as parts of an axiomatic first premise. Regan then has an argument against sacrificing Aunt Bea which naturally extends to many sentient nonhumans:[33]

· Human individuals all have equivalent inherent value. In order to respect this inherent value, we must hold the sacrifice of human life illegitimate except when a death is already inevitable. Human life certainly cannot be sacrificed in order to maximise aggregated interest satisfaction.

· Because all humans are so valued, the basis of their inherent value must be something which is common to humans whatever their gifts, qualities, or inclinations.

· All humans are equally experiencing subjects of a life to whom life matters. This is the basis of their inherent value.

· Not only humans, but also many sentient nonhumans (roughly the higher mammals) are experiencing subjects to whom life can be said to matter.

· Therefore, consistency dictates that those sentient nonhumans who are experiencing subjects of a life can claim the same protection from sacrifice as humans.

This argument secures everything Regan seeks, and, if we accept the initial premise, it makes a powerful case. However, if we reject the initial premise — and grounds for rejection have already been presented — then the argument collapses.

Positing A Fundamental Attitude

Surely there is more to Regan’s position than an argument so easily dismissed? Why is he certain that experiencing lives have the inherent value he attributes to them, and that inherent value entails the consequences he describes? Regan is a cogent philosopher, and it is unlikely that the rights–view finally rests on a premise which is supported by his personal moral sense and a misunderstanding of received morality. Here is a suggestion about how we might read the rights–view.

For Regan, the quality of an experiencing life is so precious that it can only be sacrificed when another experiencing life is at stake. That is why Regan describes what it is like to be an experiencing subject: he wants to remind us how precious life is to each of us. But there must be an intermediary step between this description of experiencing life — and our personal sense of its preciousness — and Regan’s claim that certain treatment is due to an experiencing subject. Description and feelings alone neither entail nor justify any particular treatment.[34] I suggest that the link is a particular moral attitude. Like the art lover’s attitude to beauty, this moral attitude motivates and makes sense of certain behaviours when experiencing life is encountered.[35]

Describing The Fundamental Attitude

Supposing that Regan’s position does involve a fundamental moral attitude, how should it be described? If we focus on Regan’s description of experiencing subjects as sentient, self–aware creatures with interests, it may seem that the fundamental attitude involves only an acceptance that there are things which matter to an experiencing subject. But Regan wants to claim more. (Which is what ultimately distinguishes him from the utilitarians.) He asserts that there is something about an experiencing subject which secures her inherent value and largely rules out her sacrifice.

What is this ‘something’? It is her concern for herself. (Or, perhaps, in the case of sentient nonhumans, it is her tendency to consciously preserve and defend her life. Most mammals appear to lack self–regard.) Once, again, this is why Regan describes what it is like to be an experiencing subject. He is reminding us that our personal welfare is so important to each of us that, in extremis, it over–rides almost all other considerations: we value ourselves so highly that sacrificing our lives is almost, but not entirely, out of the question. As noted earlier, we would certainly not sacrifice ourselves in order to maximise the aggregated, but individually small, satisfactions of others. On this reading, then, Regan’s fundamental moral attitude involves valuing an experiencing subject much as we humans value ourselves, or, to be strictly correct, as we value ourselves when our self–esteem is high.

Another way of viewing this suggestion is to focus on Regan’s concern for impartiality. His claim about equivalent inherent value amounts to saying that there is no legitimate basis for elevating one centre of consciousness and awareness over another.[36] And, in order to help bring us to an appreciation of this, he is reminding us what it is like to be such a centre and how reluctant we are to relinquish life.

But Much Is Still Left Unsaid

If I am right, and the rights–view is best read as finally grounding not just in Regan’s moral sense, nor in his perception of received morality, but in a fundamental attitude, then there is a way for Regan to continue his argument when its initial premise is questioned. Regan can try to explain why the fundamental attitude should be part of our morality. However, I do not find Regan doing this. Perhaps he is confident that received morality does adequately support the rights–view and that more need not be said; perhaps I have misunderstood Regan, and this fundamental attitude is no part of his position. What is certain is the rights–view’s presently inadequate foundation.

MORALS AND CONCLUSIONS

An Exercise To Learn From

But despite the rights–view’s flaws, there is still much to learn from it. Its errors are instructive, and it has important implications for any form of sentientism broadly grounded in the utilitarian tradition. Let us begin with the flaws.

Closing Our Moral Options

The right–views entails that two strictly ranked values take precedence over all other possible sources of moral significance. First place goes to the inherent value of an experiencing subject (whose life may not be sacrificed except when a death is already inevitable) and second place to the value of future satisfactions (which may be used as a ‘tie–breaker’ when a death is inevitable). Although Regan is proud that this axiology outlaws animal husbandry, blood sports, and scientific experiments on higher mammals (at least),[37] he arguably goes too far. For example, there are societies which still live by hunting, and Regan is offering these people a choice between contravening rational morality and constant near–starvation. This is not just ethnocentric; it is ludicrous. In the sense of Goodpaster’s Distinction 4 (‘operative’ vs. ‘regulative’ moral standing), Regan is proposing an account of moral scope which has no chance of being ‘operative’ for people who must kill higher mammals for food. In short, the rights–view permits no way of justifying a life based on meat eating.[38]

Non–therapeutic, lethal experimentation on experiencing subjects is similarly legislated off the agenda.[39] And if Regan is concerned about received morality, then he is surely flying in the face of that concern. Imagine having to decide whether to permit or ban a series of experiments likely to end a crippling and painful disease; I doubt there are many who would ban them. That suggests the rights–view is too extreme for received morality. (By contrast, all broadly utilitarian sentientisms sanction non–therapeutic, lethal experiments when they are conducted as humanely as possible and will lessen notable suffering for other experiencing subjects.) Interestingly, another of Goodpaster’s distinctions holds a solution to Regan’s problem: Distinction 2 describes a system of moral ranking which permits distinctions to be drawn between considerable beings. Regan’s is committed to the view that something is either considerable, in which case it enjoys the same degree of moral standing as all other considerable things, or inconsiderable.

And Prohibiting Further Expansion

Regan’s complete unwillingness to sanction the sacrifice of higher mammals (except when a death is inevitable) also contradicts common environmental practice. Park wardens, for example, routinely hunt and ‘cull’ experiencing subjects in order to protect other fauna and flora. But Regan denies all hope of legitimacy to their practice because he recognises no basis for the claim that humbler ‘interests’ may take precedence over those of experiencing subjects. This is disturbing not only as an outright rejection of an important environmental practice, but also as a blanket denial that philosophy might say anything cogent in support. The rights–view rules out any possibility of a more ecologically sensitive axiology which would grant significance to lowlier organisms and entities. This makes expansion beyond the mattering–gap nigh impossible.

An Uncertain, But Limited Franchise

Further worrying consequences loom when we ask precisely which creatures the rights–view protects. Regan never spells it out, but we know they must be those nonhumans who are experiencing subjects of a life, and Singer’s view is that means roughly conscious, i.e. sentient, subjects.[40] However, this is too generous. Regan offers a secondary argument with which to secure moral protection for conscious nonmammals, such as birds and fish, indicating that the rights–view itself excludes them. (I discuss the argument below.) My sense is that Regan intends experiencing subjects to satisfy a criterion somewhere between self–consciousness and consciousness. Which creatures and kinds of creatures does that place on either side the boundary? The answer is so far from being clear that I cannot envisage using this boundary in practice.

But wherever the line is drawn, if it falls short of sentience, the moral franchise is too restricted for someone concerned at the plight of abused nonhumans. In consequence, Regan offers a codicil to the rights–view:[41]

Even assuming birds and fish are not subjects–of–a–life, to allow their recreational or economic exploitation is to encourage the formation of habits and practices that lead to the violation of the rights of animals who are subjects–of–a–life.

This is cousin to the argument that cruelty to animals is wrong because it encourages habits injurious to humans. It always has been a weak argument, and Regan’s version suffers the problem that most of us are well able to tell mammals from other creatures. Given moral grounds for discrimination, and given, for example, that ducks were put on supermarket shelves where the steaks used to be, I am sure we could treat mammals as highly considerable entities and the rest as ‘fair game’. When it comes to lowlier forms of sentient life, Regan’s account of moral scope is a poor substitute for the more generous and more consistent moral umbrella provided by the broadly utilitarian sentientisms.

Overexposed To Criticism

The last of the rights–view’s major flaws is its slim response to potential criticism. When moral humanism claims that Regan misunderstands morality, the absence of reasons why all experiencing subjects should be granted inherent value entails that he can only respond by claiming the same of humanism. The impasse reached by humanism and sentientism is quickly duplicated. In response to hedonic and interest–based sentientism’s demand for a securely–founded larger franchise, Regan also has little to say beyond his criticisms of utilitarian moral theory. Particularly in light of soft sentientism’s lack of direct reliance on utilitarian theory, they offer scant reason not to broaden the franchise. Possible vitalist and ecosophist critics are not Regan’s concern; however, it is fair to note that — as discussed above — the rights–view slams the door on further moral expansion without taking any account of the arguments advanced.

A Useful Criticism, But Not An Alternative Theory

How should we finally judge Regan’s sometimes puzzling and difficult account of moral scope? Regan certainly has a point when he objects to the sacrifice of human life in order to maximise aggregated interest satisfaction, particularly when what is at issue are increased benefits not ameliorated harms. What is more, his outright rejection of the possibility that experiencing lives may be sacrificed when a death is not inevitable may have more to recommend it than just moral grandeur. On the other hand, contemporary utilitarianism claims to largely answer Regan’s worries by ascribing an interest in living to all experiencing subjects, and Singer does seem to share Regan’s deep aversion to easy sacrifice and commitment to impartiality. Perhaps Regan is tilting at a windmill, and the positions are not so far apart. It would certainly be instructive to have the moral acceptability of aggregative, consequential calculations debated as a topic in itself, with Regan’s reasons for rejecting them spelled out further.

For the rest, I urge that Regan’s account entails too many problems to be considered an alternative to any of the broadly utilitarian sentientisms. It is certainly no more compatible with received morality; it fails to protect many sentient nonhumans while ascribing too high a degree of moral standing to those that it does protect; and it has little to say to critics. Where Regan’s view may have an important role to play is in moving contemporary utilitarianism nearer to received moral thinking, and in helping to delineate what an acceptable sentientism must involve.[42]

‘Intuition’

One important moral remains to be drawn. Regan’s moral touchstone is ‘intuition’ in the analytic philosopher’s sense of a reflective but pre–theoretical judgement. Intuition is useful in ethics as a guide to received morality. But there are risks in appealing to it in argument, particularly in building on intuitively supported premises. For one thing, if everyday morality becomes our final arbiter, otherwise questionable judgements and practices tend to pass unnoticed.[43] For another thing, there is always the risk of relying more on personal, possibly idiosyncratic, moral notions, than on publicly accessible ones. Regan’s rights–view comes close to both these sirens. Despite careful argument, and his own explicitly stated awareness of the danger inherent in appealing to intuition,[44] the rights–view still rests on a largely unexplained first premise and is tailored to fit Regan’s deep compassion:[45]

The whole creation groans under the weight of the evil we humans visit upon these mute, powerless creatures. It is our heart, not just our head, that calls for an end, that demands of us that we overcome, for them, the habits and forces behind their systematic oppression.

I, for one, could not be more in sympathy. But Regan fails to show me why I should be, and that public, rational explanation is what this enquiry seeks.

PART THREE: THE MOVEMENT FROM ECOLOGY

Chapter Six
LOOKING BEYOND AFFECT

________________________________________________________

So far, the sentientist arguments we have been discussing have tried to show that sentience, or, in Regan’s case, being an experiencing subject, is sufficient to secure moral standing. The possibility that moral expansion might go further has not been raised, nor has the possibility that sentientism includes arguments which block further expansion. The former possibility — that there are grounds for further expansion — is presented by what I call ‘the movement from ecology’. The latter possibility — that sentientism can reject the movement in advance — is raised by some sentientist philosophers, and it needs to be dealt with before we consider the positive case. Is sentience a clearly necessary condition for moral standing? If not, are there, perhaps, other a priori grounds for resisting further expansion? These are the questions which the present chapter addresses.

THE MATTERING GAP

Forewarned Is Prepared

In discussing these issues — and particularly in trying to understand sentientism’s haste to block further moral expansion — we must be aware of exactly what is proposed by the movement from ecology. Whereas sentientism in all its forms is predicated on a concern for experiencing lives, benefits and harms, and consistency,[1] the movement from ecology looks well beyond experience in order to identify considerable entities. (As noted earlier, the vitalism which the movement starts with seeks to extend consideration to all living individuals, including non–sentient organisms; ecosophism then embraces natural systems more usually treated as collections of distinct, living individuals, and some ecosophists even want to enfranchise non–living things.)

A Source Of Puzzlement And Potential Misunderstanding

To the sentientist, the most striking, and perhaps the most puzzling aspect of these attempts is the move to enfranchise entities to which events cannot matter. Most sentientists will willingly grant consideration to any creature capable of suffering, and even the most sceptical humanist should appreciate that sentientism’s origins owe much to the humanist tradition. But both have difficulty understanding how anything can possibly matter morally, on its own account, when it has no experiences, and, thus, nothing at all can possibly matter to it. In consequence, humanists and sentientists tend to regard the movement from ecology as strange and possibly destructive of our moral traditions. While from the other side, humanists and sentientists may seem so preoccupied with experiencable consequences that they do not recognise they are making a fundamental, but perhaps not mandatory, assumption about the moral enterprise.[2]

This is why I say — without hyperbole — that further expansion, and the claim that some entities are considerable even though nothing can ‘matter’ to them, leads across a philosophical and moral chasm which I characterise as the ‘mattering gap’. And because the mattering gap effects such a profound and controversial separation, so, too, does the question whether entities to which nothing matters — entities lacking the ability to experience what happens to them and, hence, sentience — can possibly be original sources of moral concern.

Two New Spokesmen

Two representations of the sentientist case will be discussed, here, alongside the beginnings of the movement from expansion. Both sentientist positions are interest–based, and because Singer has little to say about the issue of further expansion, I have turned, instead, to Joel Feinberg and L. W. Sumner. Note that although Feinberg and Sumner use the language of ‘rights’, they ground rights in the possession of interests, and they clearly use ‘rights’ in Goodpaster’s broadest sense: rights–bearing is equated with being morally considerable.[3]

FEINBERG’S ARGUMENT

A Five–Step Summary

Feinberg’s reasons for requiring that considerable entities be sentient emerge during an argument which may be summarised as follows:[4]

· –In order for an entity to have a right, two conditions must be met. First, the entity must either be capable of claiming its right for itself, or it must be the sort of entity for whom a proxy can reasonably claim to speak.[5] Second, the entity must also be “capable of being a beneficiary”, and have a “good or ‘sake’ of its own.”[6]

· It is reasonable to grant an entity a proxy only if the entity has interests for the proxy to represent. This is because “representation, in the requisite sense, is always of interests”.[7] Furthermore, it is reasonable to credit an entity with a ‘good’ or ‘sake’ of its own only if it has interests. This is because “a being without interests...is incapable of being harmed or benefitted...”.[8] Thus, both the conditions stated in step one collapse into the possession of interests.

· “Interests must be compounded somehow out of conations...”.[9] Tentatively, Feinberg proposes that conations consist of any of the following: “...conscious wishes, desires and hopes;...urges and impulses; latent tendencies, directions of growth and natural fulfillments.”[10]

· Many sentient nonhumans have conations and are capable of being beneficiaries; therefore, these nonhumans have interests and are potential rights–bearers.[11] The status of plants is unclear at this stage. Plants lack conscious wishes, desires and hopes, but they do have “biological propensities” which appear to satisfy Feinberg’s working definition of ‘conation’.[12]

· Feinberg then further restricts the criteria for ascribing interests:[13]

...an interest, however the concept is finally to be analyzed, presupposes at least rudimentary cognitive equipment. Interests are compounded out of desires and aims, both of which presuppose something like belief, or cognitive awareness.

Thus, Feinberg finally aligns his understanding of ‘conation’ with the more restrictive sense offered by current usage. The O. E. D. tells us that ‘conation’ is a philosopher’s word meaning the desire to perform an action, or a volition, or a voluntary action. Feinberg also argues:[14]

Plants are never plausibly understood to be the direct intended beneficiaries of rules designed to ‘protect’ them. ...Trees are not the sorts of beings who have their ‘own’ sakes, despite the fact that they have biological propensities.

On both counts ‘plants’ and ‘trees’ fail to have interests, according to Feinberg, and so cannot have rights. And because rights–bearing is equated with being morally considerable, we may conclude that non–sentient organisms, in general, lack moral standing.[15]

The Interest Principle

Central to this argument is what Feinberg calls the ‘interest principle’:[16]

Feinberg’s INTEREST PRINCIPLE states: “...the sorts of beings who can have rights are precisely those who have (or can have) interests.”

Feinberg goes on to say:

I have come to this tentative conclusion for two reasons: (1) because a right holder must be capable of being represented and it is impossible to represent a being that has no interests, and (2) because a right holder must be capable of being a beneficiary in his own person, and a being without interests is a being that is incapable of being harmed or benefitted, having no good or “sake” of its own.

Two reasons are being offered, here, in support of the interest principle. They are spelled out more fully in the five–step summary by the two sufficient conditions attached to rights bearing (at step one) plus the subsequent necessary conditions (introduced at step two). The interest principle is, therefore, secured at the second step of Feinberg’s argument; the rest may be viewed as working out the interest principle’s consequences for sentient and nonsentient organisms.[17]

The Interest Principle Plus

We should, certainly, grant Feinberg steps one and two of the five–step argument, and the interests principle, because it is so reasonable to correlate rights with interests. But how persuasive is the rest of the argument? Step three compounds interests out of conations in the broad sense that includes “directions of growth and natural fulfillments”; thus, agreeing with the generous, but common sense view, that all living things do have interests. But this threatens to extend interests and, hence, rights to those nonliving things which also have clear directions of growth (for example, stalactites), and that would be contrary to everyday thinking and usage. Feinberg avoids the problem, at step five, by tightening up the notion of conations in a way which — according to the O. E. D. and as noted above — accords with standard philosophical usage.[18]

The fourth, and penultimate, step of Feinberg’s argument is more questionable. Why is the status of plants unclear? Prior to him narrowing the definition of conation, it seems more reasonable to conclude that plants, too, have interests. Feinberg must be demurring at step four because he already has his sights on the narrowing of the notion of interests at step five. Thus, his presentation is developmental, and the first definition of ‘conation’ should be read as a working definition only. The modifications offered at step five are Feinberg’s more considered position, and the full five–step argument — Feinberg’s interest–principle–plus — is designed to show why interests are limited to entities with enough psychological complexity to support, or at least approximate, desire and cognitive awareness.

Overshoot

But this is now so strict that, as well as ruling out any hope of an argument for vitalism, the interests–principle plus also threatens to deny consideration to psychologically simple creatures who are still capable of suffering.[19] In consequence, Feinberg later appears to relax his grounds for ascribing interests, writing of newborns:[20]

They do have a capacity, no doubt from the very beginning, to feel pain, and this alone may be sufficient ground for ascribing both an interest and a right to them.

Feinberg is returning to classical utilitarianism’s unadorned concern for suffering because he fears that newborns may be morally disenfranchised by the cognitive criterion for having interests. However, it is seemingly inconsistent to hold that a newborn’s bare capacity for suffering secures an interest and a right, while still requiring that interests, at a minimum, be grounded in rudimentary desire and cognitive awareness.

A Psychological Criterion

Feinberg does not explicitly speak to this problem, but it is possible to read ‘conation’ in a way which supports both the assertion that babies have moral standing and the assertion that plants are not considerable. If ‘conations’ include “urges and impulses” associated with some degree of consciousness, but do not include unconscious “directions of growth and natural fulfillments”, then babies have conations while plants do not. In consequence, babies have interests, and are considerable, while non–sentient organisms fail to measure up. However, if this is supposed to deny all possibility of moral expansion beyond sentientism, it must be clearly shown why morality should be concerned solely with psychologically based interests.

An Axiomatic Restriction Of Moral Concern

Feinberg says little beyond what has been discussed, but such additional reasons as he does offer centre on ‘benefits’ and ‘goods’. This is, no doubt, because where there is no possibility of benefit, or any good held, there is arguably no interest.

Feinberg has already pointed out that considerable entities must be capable of being beneficiaries in their own right, and he wants to claim— wrongly, I think — that this is not the case for plants.[21] Certainly, non–sentient organisms cannot experience benefits, and it may not even make sense to speak of a non–sentient organism having a ‘sake’ of its own, but that does not mean a non–sentient organism cannot be benefitted. A dry plant, for example, is benefitted by watering. Feinberg seems to be conflating the experience of benefit with benefit per se. Feinberg also notes that although some moral rules and practices may appear designed to benefit non–sentient life, it is human interests which morality is seeking to protect.[22] The environmental movement and ecological philosophy notwithstanding, Feinberg is largely right so far as received morality is concerned: moral consideration is not usually extended to non–sentient organisms. However, the chief reason for posing the initial question was to find out whether received morality is right. Therefore, current practice cannot be our chief guide to an answer.

Finally, Feinberg claims that a non–sentient organism does not have a good of its own which morality can promote or protect. When goodness is ascribed to plants, he says, it is always because of the benefits they confer on human beings.[23] This last claim is false insofar as non–sentient organisms are teleological and do have a (teleological) good of their own, but is this a morally significant good?

The clear, implicit sense of Feinberg’s discussion is that merely teleological goods are not morally telling. But why is Feinberg so confident of this? We have already seen that his view of conations requires us to credit Feinberg with thinking that psychological capacity is, finally, what matters morally. His view of benefits and goods also makes best sense given this reading. Even if non–sentient organisms can be considered beneficiaries in themselves, and even if they do have ‘a good of their own’, their lack of psychological infrastructure means that they cannot have experiencable benefits or goods. As I put it earlier, nothing we do to a tree can possibly matter to the tree itself. I suggest Feinberg is amongst those who think it axiomatic that morality is concerned only with benefits and goods which are experienced, and with organisms to which our actions matter. That also explains why Feinberg so confidently claims received morality in aid. But the question remains: Is it right to disenfranchise organisms just because they cannot experience what happens to them?

SUMNER’S VIA MEDIA

An Account Which Serves Two Purposes

The understanding which seems implicitly axiomatic in Feinberg’s argument soon becomes a matter for explicit discussion in Sumner’s. Sumner’s goal is to establish a via media between the so–called liberal and conservative positions on abortion, but his approach is also intended to rebuff a vitalist attempt to bridge the mattering–gap using the notion of ‘interests’. Sumner has Goodpaster’s formative paper on vitalism in his rear–view mirror, which may be why he brings sentientism’s concern with experience so clearly to the fore. I will take up Goodpaster’s contribution to the debate after we discuss that portion of Sumner’s argument which concerns us here. (It is not part of this enquiry’s mandate to enquire into the abortion issue per se, or to attempt a broad criticism of Sumner’s purported resolution.)

Sumner’s Strategy

Sumner hopes to offer a compromise position on abortion by securing an account of moral scope which links the morality of abortion to fetal development. If moral standing depends on sentience, and if degrees of moral standing depend on degrees of sentience, then Sumner has grounds for doing this because (once a certain level of physiological development is reached) a fetus grows increasingly sentient as pregnancy advances. Sumner is, thus, positioned to support the progressive view that abortion in early pregnancy is acceptable, but that as the fetus grows, so, too, does the case against abortion.[24] His argument will be strongest if he can rule out the possibility that factors other than sentience affect moral status, which is one reason Sumner is determined to restrict moral concern to psychologically based interests and experiencable benefits and harms.

To this end, Sumner argues for an account of moral scope which makes sentience necessary and sufficient for moral standing. He chooses a paradigm entity whose moral status he expects all to agree on (an adult human being with normal faculties); seeks the quality which grounds the paradigm’s moral status (out of four possibilities — intrinsic value, life, sentience, and rationality — he chooses sentience); then asks how widely that quality is shared.[25] Granting Sumner’s choice of a moral paradigm for now, and reserving judgement on his initial list of qualities, let us review the steps by which Sumner selects sentience.

Intrinsic Value, Life, And Rationality

Sumner rejects intrinsic value because:[26]

...if things have moral standing in virtue of having intrinsic value, and if they have intrinsic value in virtue of having some natural property, then it is that natural property which is serving as the real criterion of moral standing, and the middle term of intrinsic value is eliminable without loss.

But this is too hasty. Although Sumner is surely correct in claiming that intrinsic value attributions can always be questioned — and that the reasons offered will then form the final criterion of moral standing — it is unclear that all intrinsic value attributions rest on some single natural property. For one thing, the notion of ‘intrinsic value’ is sometimes best read as a convenient shorthand for subtle and complex reasons for moral standing which do not reduce to the possession of simple, or single properties. For another thing, it is possible that some entities are properly ascribed intrinsic value — and moral standing — for reasons which have as much to do with our relationship to them as with their natural properties.[27]

The criterion ‘life’ is rejected in the course of Sumner’s criticism of Goodpaster, and I shall discuss that debate later in the chapter. For now, I will mark the dismissal ‘tentative’. The criterion ‘rationality’ is rejected for the sound, and standard, reason that it excludes the very young, the senile, the intellectually limited, and sentient nonhumans.[28]

Sentience

Only the criterion of sentience remains. Sumner calls it a “promising middle path” between the unacceptable extremes of “rationality” and “life”.[29] On Sumner’s reading, it is also a broad path: he argues that sentience is a continuum ranging from a bare capacity for suffering — which requires awareness but not self–awareness — to the transports and angst of those who are only too self–aware. Thus, ‘entry level’ sentience requires only “the ability to experience sensations of pleasure and pain”, while ‘high level’ sentience requires the psychological complexity of humans.

Anywhere within this continuum, Sumner ascribes moral significance to benefits and harms. He discerns broadly two kinds of significant benefit or harm, corresponding to the division between ‘entry’ and ‘high level’ sentience. There are benefits and harms accruing from agreeable or disagreeable sensations; and benefits and harms which depend on the possession of wants, aims, desires, attitudes, tastes, values, moods, emotions, sentiments and passions.[30] All are clearly experiencable benefits and harms. It follows that if sentience is the sole criterion of moral standing, as Sumner contends, then all entities capable of experiencable benefits and harms are morally considerable, and all entities which lack that capacity are inconsiderable. In consequence, sentientism’s account of moral scope must enfranchise all sentient life while stopping irrevocably at the mattering gap.[31]

An Insufficient Case So Far

This account arguably accords well with current, liberal moral thinking, and it certainly offers a theoretical basis for Sumner’s abortion via media, but the case for restricting the moral franchise remains inadequate. Even continuing to grant that the paradigm moral entity is the normal adult human Sumner postulates, and retaining the question mark over Goodpaster’s criterion ‘life’, Sumner has dismissed the possibility of axiological grounds for moral expansion too quickly. Axiological arguments are offered by the movement from ecology, and nothing Sumner has said proves them wrong. Furthermore, Sumner’s apparent belief that moral standing must be justifiable in terms of some single natural property yields the startling assumption that all moral standing must finally ground in life, rationality, or sentience, and cannot possibly devolve upon a more subtle complex of reasons such as I mentioned earlier. No explanation is offered for this, which leaves Sumner’s case incomplete. However, he does have additional objectmons to raise; they require us to consider Goodpaster’s case for vitalism.

GOODPASTER’S ARGUMENT

Two Approaches

In order to make a positive case for further expansion, vitalism needs to show that despite their lack of psychological capacity (at least some) non–sentient entities can be meaningfully affected by human action, and that this entails they matter morally in themselves. Furthermore, given what was said in Part One about the need to offer broadly accessible arguments for moral expansion, the case must be made with an eye to humanist and sentientist scepticism and possible misunderstanding. There are broadly two ways of doing this. One is to seek common ground with sentientism, and use it as a basis for bridge building; the other is to assume that an insufficiency of common ground exists, and argue, instead, for a radical change in moral outlook.

Goodpaster chooses the first option, appealing to a shared notion of ‘interests’, then trying to use an impartial concern for all interests, sentient and non–sentient, to continue the momentum for expansion which has carried sentientism to the mattering gap. By contrast, other vitalists (and ecosophists) lean towards the second option. Whereas sentientists proclaim it a strength that their position grows outward from humanism by modest increments, the movement from ecology— with the exception of Goodpaster’s vitalism — generally describes a radically different, informing outlook for morality. That outlook involves a more egalitarian, and less human centered, view of the entire biotic community than has been traditional, and the change it involves may be likened to the shift from a Ptolemaic to a Keplerian model of the solar system.[32]

Thus, Goodpaster’s vitalism is distinct from other vitalist (and ecosophist) approaches. However, it is Goodpaster’s pioneering attempt to build a rapprochement with sentientism which gives point to the subsequent change of course, and Sumner’s rejection of that attempt illuminates the sentientist assumptions which the movement from ecology most needs to speak to.

Goodpaster’s Argument

Goodpaster argues that non–sentient organisms share the general capacity for being benefitted and harmed with sentient creatures, and he infers that non–sentient organisms also have interests which secure their moral standing. He writes:[33]

There is no absurdity in imagining the representation of the needs of a tree for sun and water in the face of a proposal to cut it down or pave its immediate radius for a parking lot. ...In the face of their obvious tendencies to maintain and heal themselves, it is very difficult to reject the idea of interests on the part of trees (and plants generally) in remaining alive.

Clearly, non–sentient organisms do have these kinds of interests, and if it can be shown that similar interests ground the moral standing of sentient creatures, then Goodpaster is right: the sentientist programme of treating similar interests in a consistently similar manner should ensure the moral standing of non–sentient organisms.

Sumner’s Response

But sentientism has a response. Sumner carefully formulates its mandate in a way which denies moral relevance to non–sentient interests, and he makes sentientism’s position so abundantly clear that I will quote him in full:[34]

Goodpaster does not shrink from attributing interests to nonsentient organisms since he assumes that if a being has needs, a good, and a capacity to be benefitted and harmed, then that being has interests. There is much support for this assumption in the dictionary definitions of both “interest” and “welfare” though talk of protecting the interests or welfare of plants seems contrived and strained. But philosophers and economists have evolved technical definitions of “interest” and “welfare” that clearly tie these notions to the psychological states of sentient beings. It is the existence of beings with interests or welfare in this sense that is a necessary condition of the existence of moral issues.

Thus, Sumner leaves no doubt that, in his view as a sentientist, morality’s proper concern is only those benefits and harms, and hence those interests, which are linked “to the psychological states of sentient beings.” Why should this be so?

Sentientism’s Focus On Affect

If moral expansion is to be achieved by working outward from the standard human paradigm — as both sentientists and Goodpaster aspire to do — then expansion must stop where the paradigm finally loses relevance. The paradigm human adult appealed to by sentientism arguably loses relevance once moral expansion reaches organisms which lack a psychology and, therefore, lack all possibility of experience, or, perhaps more precisely, ‘affect’ in the psychological sense of “feeling, emotion, desire, especially as leading to action”.[35] This is because organisms possessed of affect are like the paradigm human in that they have lives whose quality can be changed by human actions, but organisms lacking affect have no quality of life to change. In Nagel’s phrase, again, there is something it is like to be a cat, but there is nothing it is like to be a tree (to the best of our knowledge).[36] Thus, a cat is similar to the paradigm normal adult human in that a cat can experience benefits and harms, and it can have the quality of its life changed. By contrast, a tree is unlike the paradigm in that it experiences nothing, and it has no quality of life.

In addition, it may be noted that sentientism’s concern for benefits and harms which are experienced gives it a powerful intuitive appeal, plus motivational force, because it is relatively easy for humans to empathise with nonhuman suffering and pleasure. Any successful argument for moral expansion must persuade moral agents to accept greater responsibility and sacrifice, and if sentientism’s prime goal is to better the lot of nonhumans — and that is certainly the goal for Regan and Singer — then it is wise for sentientism to halt the call for expansion once it can no longer rely on empathy’s support. Unlike the interests of sentient creatures, the interests of merely living organisms offer seemingly little basis for identification and human concern.

None of this conclusively proves that morality should only be concerned with interests associated with good and bad experiences, but it does place a burden of proof on vitalists claiming otherwise. Vitalism’s case cannot be made simply by pointing out that non–sentient organisms have ‘interests’ too: such ‘affect–free interests’ are clearly different, and if vitalism wants to claim morality should transcend the difference, then more argument is needed.

A Limited, But Defensible, Axiology

In fairness to Goodpaster, he does, in a limited way, speak to this need also. He notes that sentientism’s concern for affect is informed by an essentially hedonic axiology: sentientism is the heir to Bentham’s original, compassionate insight and to the hedonistic conception of the good which inspired Bentham.[37] Furthermore, Goodpaster questions the reasonableness of this:[38]

Biologically, it appears that sentience is an adaptive characteristic of living organisms that provides them with a better capacity to...avoid...threats to life. This...suggests, though of course it does not prove, that the capacities to suffer and to enjoy are ancillary to something more important rather than tickets to [moral standing] in their own right.

The “something more important” is, of course, life, and Goodpaster is now moving towards a position taken up by later vitalists: morality should value all self–replicating, evolutionarily shaped, teleological individuals, whether or not they have the adaptive characteristic of affect.

However, if Goodpaster took this step, his position relative to the movement from interest would be similar to sentientism’s position relative to humanism. Sentientists can object that because morality is a human enterprise — founded originally in a concern for human well being, and extended up to the mattering gap on the basis of consistency and analogical reasoning — this new concern for life is simply no part of its mandate. And because Goodpaster offers no further argument, an impasse similar to that between sentientism and humanism would occur.

CLEARING A PATH

Both Sides Have Underestimated The Issue

With hindsight, I think it fair to say that Goodpaster underestimates the distance between sentientism and vitalism. Sentientism is not susceptible to a rapprochement, and (just as sentientism’s own non–traditional focus on sentient interests per se stands in need further of justification) so vitalism must shoulder the need to offer original, and independent, reasons for ascribing moral significance to affect–free interests. This will require showing grounds for a radical change of moral outlook and a literal paradigm shift; thus, taking the more radical of the two options I discussed earlier.

But it is also true that sentientists like Feinberg and Sumner have underestimated their task. Nothing said so far shows that sentience is necessary for moral standing, and it seems unlikely that ever will be shown. What is more, the objections raised against moral expansion only reveal a burden of proof not dissimilar to sentientism’s own.[39] However, Sumner still has some points to make, and I shall end this chapter by trying to show that, should adequate arguments for vitalism be forthcoming, there are no obvious a priori reasons to resist them.

If We Start, Can We Stop?

Sumner argues that if moral concern is not restricted to psychologically based interests and the experiencable benefits and harms which support them, there will be no obvious end to considerable entities.[40] For example, I can benefit my computer by taking it apart and cleaning the oxidised connections; I can also harm the computer by over–watering the plants on top and getting the connections wet. Is the computer, therefore, morally considerable? Sumner thinks that we do not want

Chapter One THE INITIAL QUESTION

Attemptmng To Re–Assert The Primacy Of Rights

Chapter Three HUMANISM AND COMMUNITY

A More Charitable Reading

Shipwreck And Pestilence

Chapter One
THE INITIAL QUESTION

Chapter Three
HUMANISM AND COMMUNITY