you're supposed to avoid trying to derive an ought from an is altogether no matter what side you're on.... — NKBJ
I am not sure I accept the idea that an ought can never derive from an is. Let me explain. It is hard to see why an ought would follow from an objective state of affairs. But what if we take seriously the idea that subjective experience is real? I think part of the problem stems from the fact that many over the years have acted as though what is objective and third-person verifiable is real and what is subjective is somehow not real. When we say that something is objective, we seem to mean that it is "really out there", beyond our imaginations, beyond our dreams, beyond our hallucinations, or in other words, beyond the seemings or appearances in our subjective experience. This is problematic. It opposes the subjective to the real.
My subjective experience is as real as anything. I really do experience pain and so on. My pains are real. And they really do hurt. We need be careful though. To say that my subjective experience is real is not to also say that appearance equals reality. For example, I can hallucinate that there is a tiger in my room. My hallucination doesn't correspond to the reality beyond my mind. In other words, there is no real tiger in my room. But my experience is real in the sense that there really is an experience of having that hallucination. My experiences might not reflect reality, but the experiences themselves are really happening and are part of reality. And in a sense, they are objective. Joe really does feel pain. Joe's pains are real. Joe really does dream of winged rhinos. The experience is real. And Joe's experiences are happening beyond the appearances in my mind. They are in that sense, along with rocks, "out there" in the real world.
What does all this have to do with morality? What are we to do with a situation where, for example, someone is torturing a child? We tend to say that this is bad and that this child's suffering matters. Why? Is there really no more to this than my distaste for it, or maybe an evolved, instinctive response of mine to the sound of a child screaming? No, I tend to think that this child's suffering matters regardless of whether it bothers me or not. It would matter even if nobody existed but the torturer and the child. Even if I feel nothing when witnessing it, it is still bad. The badness of it simply doesn't rely on my feelings about it. It seems that the fact that the child's well-being matters to the child, beyond my concern, is possibly a factor. That child's suffering is real. It is not an illusion that the child is suffering. There seems to be something about such suffering that intrinsically involves badness, intolerability, or some kind of ought-not. Subjective states are different from objective states of affairs in this way. They seem to be intrinsically value-laden. It doesn't seem possible to separate the feeling of intense pain from some sense of intolerability or badness. Perhaps pain, in itself, is sort of a real ought-not. When you stab me, the hurt is real. The injury is real. You have added to the intolerability in the world. Maybe, somehow, we can here find the beginnings of a connection between what is and what ought to be.
If the very nature of pain is that it is a sort of ought-not, then if a pain is, an ought-not is.
Isn't pain curious? Notice how when you have a really bad headache, you can't seem to simply observe it as a pure sensation without also suffering from it. It seems that to the extent that it loses its intolerability, it ceases to be a pain or simply ceases altogether, as if it is, in itself, a state of intolerability. Might we say that if pain is real, there is a sense in which intolerability, or badness, is part of reality and is therefore objective?
Some experiential qualities like blueness are real, in that we really do experience them. Blue experiences are part of reality. But they seem not to carry an intrinsic desirability or undesirability the way pain and pleasure seem to.
But then some pleasures seem to us bad or shallow or sacharrine or whatever, and indulgence in pleasure seems problematic in some ways. And some pain seems beneficial. This certainly complicates what I am saying.
I am not quite sure how to think about it properly, but there is a sense in which I think that the suffering of the child really matters, objectively, that somehow the very mattering of it is part of reality. It matters regardless of whether I care or not, whether it matters to me or not. At the very least, it matters to that child. That child's interests are violated or harmed. Are her interests real? Is there really a better and a worse for her, even beyond her own feeling about it? Isn't it truly better for a child to be happy and thriving than to be harmed and incapacitated? My strong intuition says yes. Some conditions in the world really are better than others. But how to justify this rationally? I am not sure. Here, I am rather baffled, quite honestly. But it seems obviously absurd to me when I consider that it might be the case that no particular state of affairs in the world can ever rightly be considered better than any other. For now, I guess, I'll hold to it as an intuition not rationally justified, and risk being in error.
If we deny the reality of subjective experience, of selves, of interests, and all the rest, obviously, all of this sounds like nonsense. But I find it absurd to deny that which I experience so directly in every moment. I take subjectivity seriously. And I suspect that maybe such things as selves and interests belonging to them might have a sort of reality not usually recognized. It might even be that selves have rights. Maybe selves properly belong to themselves.
Getting back to the issue of the ethics of eating animals, I have often had the feeling that it isn't simply a problem of causing them pain, as we could conceivably raise them for food, enslave them, or otherwise take possession of and exploit them while causing them no pain, perhaps even while causing them intense, continuous pleasure with drugs or brain implants. Still, something seems not right about all of this to me. I don't think it would be right for us to do this to a group of humans. Why is it okay with animals?
My feeling is that to the extent that a being is a self and has interests of its own, it simply doesn't belong to me to do with as I please. It has a sort of autonomy that I have no right to violate.
I once saw a pig being pulled by the ears down a ramp, off a truck, toward the spot where it was to have its throat cut, after which it woud be cooked and served as food. When the men were pulling it by its ears, it was squealing loudly and resisting the forward motion with its feet. Its will was clearly being violated. The pig had interests! I found myself thinking that part of what is wrong here is that the people were taking what was not rightly theirs, and were violating the interests, or perhaps even rights, of another sentient being.
Something struck me about the killing. Before the killing, there was a self, a set of interests belonging to that self, goods, bads, fears, perhaps hopes, and so on, and after the killing, there was only tissue. This subjective world had been destroyed and now there was only food, only flesh. Previously, there was an objective and a subjective in that pig. After, there was only the material, just a bunch of physical resources to be incorporated into other bodies.
This, I think, is also reflected in how we talk about meat. We call the living animal a pig. We call what remains after it is killed and cut to pieces pork. Cows become beef. Sheep become mutton. Is this is a way for us to insulate ourselves from the reality of what we are doing when we eat these animals? We don't eat cows. We eat this stuff called beef. But notice that we only seem to do this with higher mammals that we regularly eat. We don't do it with chicken or fish.
I think eating animals is a kind of theft, a kind of dishonorable banditry, worse than parasitism. To overpower another self and to forcibly take for yourself what it has labored to collect and build, and to totally disregard its interests, especially when this isn't necessary for you, especially when it is for the sake of your pleasure, is evil.
Most would consider it evil for a kid to go out on Halloween and knock over another kid and steal all his candy. How is predation any different in principle?
Why do we admire predators and despise parasites? It is because, I think, at some instinctual level, we admire power. Our default, evolved, animal values are as Nietzsche described as the sort of power-based morality that preceded Christianity. The more powerful is the better. This is partly because some of our animal ancestors were polygynous mammals with a certain kind of power hierarchy with an alpha male at the top. And we were arboreal. And to be higher in the trees was better. And those with higher status were literally higher in the trees, eating the choicest fruit, safe from predators. Our whole vertical value dimension seems to stem from this instinctual pattern. Higher is better. Stronger gets you higher. Stronger is better. God is the strongest and also the best. And God is the highest. Heaven is at the very top and Hell is at the very bottom. Good people go up. Bad people go down. The word
aristocrat literally derives from "best". The upper class rules over the lower class. Elevated people stand above lowly people. High-brow versus low-brow. Feeling high versus feeling low. Moving on up versus falling to rock bottom. Notice also that at the bottom of a dense forest, it is nearly dark. And there are reptiles and cats and things down there that might eat you. At the very top of the forest is sky and sun and birds. Look familiar? Heaven and Hell. Notice our cities, with the wealthy up in their towers and the untouchables down on the street, exposed to the elements. And they deserve it, right? We tend to see a dimension of virtue associated with vertical position. Contempt is a kind of looking-down.
Humans killing and eating cows or rabbits is just another case of the strong stealing from the weak. We admire a lion in the way it masterfully takes down its weaker prey. What about a mugger robbing an old lady? Why is he not similarly admirable? Who is worse, a parasite or a thief? Predators are thieves. That is their strategy for survival. It is one of a number of successful strategies. One can be a thief and also be a biological success. Many successful businesses are based on predation.
Much warfare is the predation of one superorganism upon another. One nation eats another weaker one and steals its resources. Many early societies saw nothing wrong with this, largely because of the tribal mentality, our people being the only real people, the others being fair game or put there for our use.
Our interests first! Isn't that what drives the thief? Me first. My family first. My tribe first. My nation first.
Predation is profiting from the misfortune of another.
But if we want to get at what ought to be the case objectively, we need to look at everyone's interests. We have to evaluate the situation from beyond our own perspective, as if we don't know which of the parties involved we happen to be. What ought to happen in a situation, what is for the best period, is the case regardless of which of the persons involved I happen to be. The difference between my personal preferences and what really ought to be the case beyond appeal to my personal preferences requires this sort of view-from-nowhere appraisal of the situation and of the relative values of different outcomes.
Should I eat the porpoise? I meet my needs and serve my interests, but what about the interests of the porpoise? Or is it the case that no non-humans have any interests? If we have interests and they don't, what makes for this difference? If I were that porpoise, what then? Should the human eat the porpoise? What if I don't know whether I am the human or the porpoise? How would I answer? What if the human could survive just as well by eating beans, assuming bean plants have no consciousness and thus no interests? Then we seem to be weighing the added momentary pleasure for the human of eating porpoise over beans against all the interests of the porpoise and any other sentient being whose interests are tied to the well-being of that porpoise, such as that porpoise's friends and family. The small, momentary, added pleasure for the human seems pretty petty by comparison, doesn't it? That rich, beautiful creature enjoying its life, with its complex inner universe of feeling and its playful life in the sea is something that alive, is of far more value than it is reduced to some rubbery stuff to chew for a human, all its complexity lost, its inner world destroyed, its relationships severed, its friends left bereaved, its future annihilated.
In light of consideration of the porpoise's end of things, or even of the overall value in the world, what do humans who justify eating that porpoise sound like when saying that they will continue to eat porpoise because it tastes good? Totally oblivious to anything but crass, short-term self-interest. In other words, rather unaware and lacking in moral development. Reptiles have a similar level of regard for interests beyond their own.
I have often thought that the very definition of evil is to not merely cause, but to literally enjoy the misfortune of another being, especially to enjoy that misfortune for its own sake. It is the very opposite of love. In the way I see it, justifying your harm to another being by the pleasure you derive from your exploitation of that being or the complete theft of everything belonging to that being, is almost the worst possible justification. What would we say to a pedophile who says that he will continue molesting children because he enjoys it and insists that his enjoyment is enough to justify his behavior?
If you believe that you have no choice but to do something that harms another, but you regret it and it pains you to do it, it is a little more forgivable.
If it is the case that you
must eat meat to survive, then we have another matter to explore. For one thing, we have to justify your survival in the first place before we can justify your eating that meat in order to survive. Why is it good that you should continue living? Is the value of your life greater than that of all the beings you destroy in order to live? And is there no way to live without diminishing the harm you do? If your life does have greater value and there is no way to reduce your harm, then perhaps you have justification for continuing.
But of course, as many a vegetarian or vegan has demonstrated, it is possible to survive without eating meat. Can one achieve optimal health on a vegan diet? That is another question. If not, then we have to determine the value of that added health and decide if overall, in the world, it is more important to have a human with ideal health than to have all the animals that he might eat spend their lives unmolested by him.
I think that unconsciously, most people think meat-eating is okay because of a kind of cultural inertia, with underlying beliefs and attitudes that derive from a primitive religious worldview in which God put all of the plants and animals here for our use (usually our local tribe). And why did he give us sharp teeth and an appetite for meat if he didn't approve of us eating it? After all, we sacrificed animals to the gods! God likes meat too! That wonderful aroma of the burnt offering rising to Heaven! We are made in God's image after all! He is like us! He is our Father! As the bumper sticker says, "If God didn't want us to eat animals, why'd he make 'em out of meat?" All the stuff on the earth is what he gave to us, right? And meat wouldn't taste so good if we weren't meant to eat it!
Most of our unexamined ideas of good and bad are probably unconsciously about being a good-boy/girl for Mommy and Daddy, God just being the parent or alpha male pattern projected onto the sky. We grow up as children with "good" and 'bad" being associated with behavior approved of or disapproved of by parents, and punished and rewarded. So at some level, we approach questions of good or bad with all of that unconsciously at work. Will Daddy get mad? If not, it's okay. Should I shoot the squirrels? Daddy says "good shot!" if I do! Or at least, Daddy doesn't get mad. And since good and bad derive from Dad's approval/disapproval, if there is no Dad, then everything must be okay, right? "If God does not exist, everything is permitted." And here we get the thoughtless moral nihilism of the atheist. If there is no big judge in the sky to disapprove of my actions, then I can do no wrong. Is that really so?
And we imagine that God, with all his might, must be right, and so if he made us to eat meat, as our bodies and instincts seem to indicate, how could he justly disapprove? Isn't this what many seem to be thinking at some level, even atheists, perhaps while not being quite conscious of it?
Also, if we are instinctually driven to do something, we are biased to think it good. There is a positive valuation attached to our experience of it. Eating meat feels good. So it can't be all bad, can it? Yum! Yum!
But if we are ready to grow up and assume responsibility for our choices and evaluate the situation according to what is actually for the best, considering the interests of all parties involved and the overall beauty, richness, and goodness in the world, things start to look rather different.