The edge of morality
A case of transforming nature
A common slogan regarding evolution is “evolution doesn’t stop at the neck.” The basic idea is that the same evolutionary forces that work on our bodies—determining our height, method of reproduction, and so on—also work on our brains. Our minds are not unfiltered Cartesian egos, unaffected by evolution, and the assumption that they are is a source of serious error.
But there’s a similar dogma when it comes to ethics that is as widespread as it is indefensible. This is roughly the notion that ethics stops at the edge of society—that ethics, in other words, has nothing to say about nature, and there are no values to be promoted in nature; all we should do, with respect to nature, is preserve it. This idea strikes me as clearly wrong!
When you tell people that you support modifying nature to reduce suffering—trying to get rid of predators that rip their victims limb from limb and of flies that lay eggs in the bodies of live animals, eating their way out from the inside—they act like you have grown another head. But I think the worthwhileness of modifying nature follows from every plausible ethical view.
We normally accept that it’s bad when animals suffer. We think there’s something noble about helping out an injured deer, but nothing comparably noble about helping out an injured plant. When, in the 1980s, surgery was performed on live dogs without any anesthetic, we correctly recognize that such a practice was ghastly and horrific. The reason it was horrific is that it’s bad to be in excruciating agony. The fact that huge numbers of dogs were in excruciating agony was a bad thing. Surely it can’t be that it’s only bad for dogs to suffer if humans are the culprit—this would imply that it’s wrong to treat horrible diseases dogs have, if treating the diseases causes them any suffering.
A case of transforming nature
A common slogan regarding evolution is “evolution doesn’t stop at the neck.” The basic idea is that the same evolutionary forces that work on our bodies—determining our height, method of reproduction, and so on—also work on our brains. Our minds are not unfiltered Cartesian egos, unaffected by evolution, and the assumption that they are is a source of serious error.
But there’s a similar dogma when it comes to ethics that is as widespread as it is indefensible. This is roughly the notion that ethics stops at the edge of society—that ethics, in other words, has nothing to say about nature, and there are no values to be promoted in nature; all we should do, with respect to nature, is preserve it. This idea strikes me as clearly wrong!
When you tell people that you support modifying nature to reduce suffering—trying to get rid of predators that rip their victims limb from limb and of flies that lay eggs in the bodies of live animals, eating their way out from the inside—they act like you have grown another head. But I think the worthwhileness of modifying nature follows from every plausible ethical view.
We normally accept that it’s bad when animals suffer. We think there’s something noble about helping out an injured deer, but nothing comparably noble about helping out an injured plant. When, in the 1980s, surgery was performed on live dogs without any anesthetic, we correctly recognize that such a practice was ghastly and horrific. The reason it was horrific is that it’s bad to be in excruciating agony. The fact that huge numbers of dogs were in excruciating agony was a bad thing. Surely it can’t be that it’s only bad for dogs to suffer if humans are the culprit—this would imply that it’s wrong to treat horrible diseases dogs have, if treating the diseases causes them any suffering.
