It waits somewhen in the dark infinity of time. Perhaps the past. Perhaps the future. Perhaps now. The worst thing.

Whenever something bad happens to me, such as that full quadriceps tendon tear, people helpfully remark “it could have been worse.” After that tendon tear, I wrote an essay on the worst thing focused on possibility and necessity. This is the issue of whether it could be worse. While the tendon tear was the worst thing to happen to me (as of this writing), bad things do happen and people tell me things could have been worse. Logically, there can only be one worst thing or, perhaps, there could be a tie for worst. What would be the worst thing? That which nothing worse can be conceived.

I am confident there must be such a thing (or things). Just as there must be a tallest building, there must be the worst thing. But, of course, this would not be much of an essay if I did not argue for my claim.

Conveniently, arguing for the worst thing is like arguing for the existence of a perfect thing. This is usually God. Thomas Aquinas used his Five Ways to argue for the existence of God and most of these arguments rely on a combination of an infinite regress and a reduction to absurdity. For example, Aquinas argued from the fact that things move to the need for an unmoved mover on the grounds that an infinite regress would arise if everything had to be moved by something else. A regress argument with a reduction to absurdity will serve quite nicely in arguing for the worst thing.

Take any thing. To avoid the usual boring philosophical approach of calling this thing X, I’ll call this thing Don. If Don is the worst thing, then the worst thing exists. If Don is not the worst thing, then there must be another thing that is worse than Don. That thing, which I will call J.D., is either the worst thing or not. If J.D.  is the worst thing, then the worst thing exists and is J.D. If it is not J.D, there must be something worse than J.D. This cannot go on to infinity so there must be a thing that is worse than all other things—the worst thing. I’ll call it Elon.

The obvious counter is to throw down the infinity gauntlet: if there is an infinite number of things, there will not be a worst thing. After all, for any thing, there will be an infinite number of other things. As Leibniz claimed, the infinite number cannot be said to be even or odd, therefore in an infinite universe a thing could not be said to be worst.

One might be inclined to reject the infinity gauntlet—after all, even if there were an infinite number of things, each thing would stand in a relation to all other things and there would thus still be a worst thing.

Another obvious counter is to assert that there could be two or more things that are equally bad—that is, identical in their badness. This would be the tie situation mentioned earlier. In the case of a tie, there would not be a single worst thing.  A counter to this is to steal from Leibniz again and argue that there could not be two identical things—they would need to differ in some way that would make one worse than the other. This could be countered by asserting that the two might be different, yet equally bad. In this case, the response would be to follow the model used in arguing for the best thing (God) and assert that the worst thing would be worst in every possible respect and hence anything equally as bad would be identical and thus there would be one worst thing, not two. I suppose that this would have some consolation value—it would certainly be a scarier universe that had multiple worst things rather than just one.

Of course, this just shows that there is something that is worse than all other things that happen to be—which leaves open the possibility that it is not the worst thing in another sense of the term. So now I will Oversimplified, the ontological argument begins with the claim that God is that which nothing greater can be conceived. If God only existed as an idea in the mind, a greater can be conceived, namely God existing for real. Thus, God must exist.

In the case of the worst thing, it would be that which nothing worse can be conceived. If it only existed as an idea in the mind, a worse thing can be conceived, namely the worst thing existing for real, perhaps in your basement or the White House. Thus, the worst thing must exist.

Another variant on the ontological argument can also be used here. One variation is that since God is perfect, He must exist. This is because if He did not exist, He would not be perfect. But He is, so He must. In the case of the worst thing, the worst thing must exist because it is the worst. This is because if it did not exist, it would not be the worst. But it is, so it does. This worst thing would be the truly worst thing (just as God is supposed to be the best thing).

This approach does, of course, inherit the usual difficulties of an ontological argument as pointed out by Gaunilo and Kant (that existence is not a quality). It would certainly be better for the universe if there is no worst thing, but that is just wishful thinking.

 

 

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J’atorg struggled along on his motile pods, wheezing badly as his air sacs fought with the new atmosphere. He cursed the humans, invoking the gods of his people. Reflecting, he cursed the humans by invoking their gods. The gods of his people had proven weak: the bipeds had come and were remaking his world to suit them, proving their gods are stronger. The humans said it would take a long time for the world to fully change, but J’atorg could already see, taste and smell the differences. He did not know who he hated more: the hard-eyed humans who were destroying his world or the soft-eyed humans who spewed words about “rights”, “morality” and “lawsuits” while urging patience. He knew his people would die, aside from those the humans kept as curiosities or preserved to assuage their conscience with cruel pity.

 

Terraforming is transforming a planet to make it more earthlike. In science fiction, the goal of terraforming is to make an alien world suitable for human habitation by altering its ecosystem. Interestingly, the ruling classes are busy seeing to the reverse terraforming of our home world, making it less habitable for our species. Since this process would radically change a world, terraforming does raise ethical concerns. Conveniently, the ethical discussion that follows applies to both terraforming and reverse terraforming.

From a moral standpoint, the clearest scenario is when a lifeless, uninhabited planet is terraformed. If Mars is lifeless and uninhabited, it would fall into this category. If there are no beings on a world, there would be no rights violated and no harms inflicted. As such, terraforming such a planet would seem morally acceptable.

One obvious counter is to argue that a planet has moral status of its own, distinct from that of the beings that might inhabit it. Intuitively, the burden of proof for this status would rest on those who make this claim since inanimate objects do not seem to be the sort of entities that can be wronged.

A second counter is to advance potentiality arguments, somewhat akin to those used in the abortion debate. If a planet might someday give rise to beings who would have moral status, then terraforming the planet would be wrong because it would prevent them from arising. After all, the scientific account of life on earth involves it arising from non-life by natural processes. If an uninhabited world is terraformed, the possible inhabitants that might have arisen from the world would never be.

While arguments from potentiality tend to be weak, they are not without appeal. Naturally, the moral concern for the world should be proportional to how likely it is that it would produce inhabitants. If this is unlikely, then terraforming would be of less moral concern. However, if the world has considerable potential, then the possibility of moral harm is greater. To reverse the situation, we would not have wanted earth to be transformed by aliens if doing so would have prevented our eventual evolution. As such, to act morally, we would need to treat other worlds as we want our world to be treated. That said, our ruling class is ensuring that our world is undergoing reverse terraforming.

The standard counter to potentiality arguments is that mere potential does not morally outweigh the actual. This is used to justify the use of resources now even when doing so will make them unavailable to future generations. It is also the reasoning that is sometimes used to morally justify abortion, with the actual person outweighing the potential person. This view does, of course, have its own problems and there are serious arguments regarding the status of the potential versus that of the actual.

If a world has life or is otherwise inhabited (I do not want to assume that all inhabitants must be alive in the way we understand it), then the morality of terraforming would be much more complicated. After all, the inhabitants of a world would seem likely to have moral status. Not surprisingly, the ethics of terraforming an inhabited world are like those of altering an environment on earth, such as building houses in what was a forest. Naturally enough, the stock arguments about species extinction would apply here. As on earth, the more complex the inhabitants, the greater the moral concern—assuming that moral status is linked to complexity. After all, we do not balk at eliminating viruses or bacteria but are sometimes concerned when higher forms of life are at stake, such as owls or our fellow humans.

If the inhabitants are people, then the matter is even more complicated and would bring into play the usual arguments about how people should be treated. Despite the ethical similarities to these smaller scale scenarios, there are some important differences when it comes to terraforming ethics.

One main difference is one of scale: bulldozing a forest to build condos versus changing an entire planet for colonizing. The fact that the entire world is involved seems morally significant—assuming size matters.

There is also another difference, namely that the world is a different world. On earth, we can at least present some an ownership claim over our home world. Asserting ownership over an alien world is more problematic, especially if it is already inhabited. But it must be noted that there are moral arguments against claiming to own parts of our earth.

Of course, it can be countered that we are inhabitants of this universe and hence have as good a claim to alien worlds as our own—after all, it is our universe. Also, there are all sorts of clever moral justifications for ownership that people have developed, and these can be applied to ownership of alien worlds. After all, the moral justifications for taking land from other humans can be inflicted on aliens. To be consistent we would have to accept that the same arguments would morally justify aliens doing the same to us. Or we could simply go with a galactic state of nature where profit is the measure of right and matters are decided by the sword. In that case, we must hope that we have the biggest sword or that the aliens have better ethics than we do.

 

 

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After the murder of Michael Brown, protests took place which led to additional conflicts between citizens and police. Initially, the police met the protestors like an invading army: many officers were in military gear and backed up by armored vehicles. Militarized and brutal responses to protests have occurred repeatedly. As noted in my previous essay, this approach is based on a philosophy of order that perceived threats are to be met with physical force. Even when the perceived threat consists of citizens acting within their rights.

One reason is practical—the state has an advantage of force. As Thoreau notes, “…the state never intentionally confronts a man’s sense, intellectual or moral, but only his body, his senses.  It is not armed with superior with or honesty, but with superior physical strength.”

Another reason for this is conceptual. Many authorities prefer to use coercion rather than persuasion and reason. There is also a philosophical element—those in authority often seem to have a philosophical view about the rights of citizens that differs from that of the founders they so often praise when running for re-election.

To begin with the most obvious violations of constitutional rights, the rights of free speech and assemble have been routinely violated. The harassment of journalists also seem to be clear violations of the freedom of the press.

Section 1 of the 14th amendment has also been relentlessly violated since citizens have been “deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law” and citizens have been denied “the equal protection of the laws.” The violations of the 14th amendment are not limited just to the treatment of the protestors—the disproportionality  in the response to protests illustrates systematic violation of this amendment.

There are also clear violations of internationally established human rights: the protestors have been shot with rubber bullets (admittedly this is better than being shot with metal bullets) and tear gas has been used.

Those who accept natural rights, such as John Locke, would agree that these rights are being regularly violated. The most obvious being the right of liberty.  As such, the violations are not just a matter of violations of human law but also violations of natural rights (assuming there are such things). For those who prefer a more utilitarian approach to liberty, Mill’s utilitarian arguments would certainly support the claim that the state has been violating the rights of protestors.

One obvious counter to this view is the claim that the police are justified because they are acting to protect the rights of life, liberty and property for some people. This, of course, requires the use of force and it might appear that some rights are being violated in the keeping of order.

This counter has some abstract merit. The state does have an obligation to prevent protestors from violating the rights of other people. Being a protestor does not grant a person special rights to violate the rights of others, so a protestor who engages in unwarranted violence or other misdeeds can be justly stopped or arrested.

There is also the obvious concern with people who use protests as an excuse to engage in or as cover for misdeeds such as looting and violence. If the police arrest someone who has come to “protest” by stealing, they have not violated that person’s rights as they have no moral right to steal even if they claim it is an act of protest. That said, a case can be made for theft as an act of protest.

A reply to this counter is that the legitimate need to protect rights does not justify violating those rights. So, while the police have an obligation to keep protestors from committing crimes against life, liberty and property the police also have an obligation to not violate the rights of the protestors. I admit that this can be challenging in practice since opportunists and criminals can mix in with actual protestors. Just as they mix in with politicians and police. However, if our society is supposed to respect rights, effort must be taken to ensure that these rights are protected—even (and especially) in heated moments. After all, rights are not just for corporations.

 

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One of my first essays on police and race was in response to the August 9, 2014, killing of Michael Brown in Ferguson. Brown was unarmed when he was killed. While some claim Brown was murdered, others claim the shooting was justified. While there were efforts at reform, killings continue and hence this subject is, sadly, always relevant. In each incident there is the question of whether force was used legitimately (and what that might mean).

From a legal standpoint, the concept of legitimacy is defined by the law and whoever has the authority or power to impose their definition. From a moral standpoint, the legitimacy of force depends on what ethical theory is being used. Intuitively, though, the use of force against an unprovoked attack would seem legitimate. Using force against someone who does not present a threat would intuitively seem to be morally unjustified.

In discussing police use of force, I have found that some people see the critical issue as whether an officer was justified in using force in that situation. This view is reasonable but has an obvious defect: it does not consider the broader context. A particular officer could be morally justified in using force in the individualistic context of one person facing another. However, there is the broader context involving the social roles of the individuals, the social context, the history of race in America, the political context and so on. That is, the incident is not just a matter of two people who encounter each other in the context of violence. It is also a confrontation of class and race heavy with the weight of history. These considerations lead to broader moral concerns regarding why such situations arise.

One part of the answer is the history of race in America. This history sets the stage for death. To state a truism, being black in America is rather different from being white. Since I look very white, my experience has been the white experience. Being a philosopher, my awareness of this means that I know my experience is not universal and it would be fallacious to draw uncritical inferences from myself. Hence, I must rely on others to have some understanding beyond my own experiences. I do know that blacks tend to be treated rather worse by the police and young black men are singled out for some of the worst treatment. It is, of course, important to note that many police officers are decent people—I know several that I have met through running and gaming. Not surprisingly, young black men look at the police differently than white folks and the dynamic between young black men and police is often a rather bad one. I had indirect experience with this years ago. I was training for the Columbus marathon with a fellow grad student who is African American. While running through a neighborhood on the course, we were stopped by a cop who inquired what we “boys” were doing. Not wanting to be arrested or shot so close to the big race, I reigned in my pride and engaged my diplomatic skills while my friend stood in silent anger. I vividly remember that this was the first time in my white life that I was afraid of a cop; it was a radically different experience than interacting with the police in my hometown in Maine. What seemed to defuse the situation was that I told the cop that we were training for the marathon and that my friend had a shot of making the US Olympic team. This appeal to patriotism worked and the cop let us go. We sped away, glad that we had not been arrested or shot for running through a fancy neighborhood.

After that incident, I was stopped by the police another time while running and then again while biking, although I was doing nothing wrong. I recall feeling the calm that washes away fear that I feel when I was fighting in tae kwon do matches; I understood that I could arbitrarily be shot.

From these incredibly limited experiences, I can only imagine what it would be like to be subject to police attention regularly. Once again, to be fair to the police, I have also had many positive experiences with officers, and it would be unjust to sweepingly condemn all police because of the actions of some. However, there is clearly a serious moral problem in America.

Another obvious part of the answer is the philosophy of order held by many in power. While perhaps not familiar with Hobbes, they tend to operate in accord with his view of order and morality. Trump has made this clear when he said that the only limits he recognizes are his own mind and morality (which is terrifying as both are corrupt). The practical application of this view is that force is the primary (sometimes sole) tool in their toolbox.  The most visual manifestation of this is the militarization of the police: even small-town police forces have combat gear and sometimes even armored vehicles. As Thoreau noted, “thus the state never intentionally confronts a man’s sense, intellectual or moral, but only his body, his senses.  It is not armed with superior with or honesty, but with superior physical strength.” That this approach leads to violence is hardly surprising.

When the context of race is combined with a philosophy of force, it is hardly a surprise that violence and death are all too often the results. As such, even if an officer was justified in their individual actions, they were taken in a context that is fundamentally morally flawed. The situation should (morally) not arise.

 

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Hero of Alexandria (born around 10 AD) is credited with developing the first steam engine, the first vending machine and the first known wind powered machine (a musical organ). Given the revolutionary impact of the steam engine centuries later, it might be wondered why the Greeks did not use these inventions in their economy. While some claim the Greeks did not see the implications, others claim the decision was based on concerns over social stability. The development of steam or wind power on a significant scale would have displaced slave labor. This could have caused social unrest or even contributed to a revolution.

While what prevented the Greeks from developing steam or wind power can still be debated, an anecdote about Roman emperor Vespasian was clear about his opposition to a labor-saving construction device: he stated he must always ensure the workers earned enough money to buy food and this device would put them out of work.

While labor saving technology has advanced dramatically since Hero and Vespasian, the basic questions remain the same. These include the question of whether to adopt the technology and questions about the impact of such technology on specific individuals and society.

Obviously, each labor-saving advancement must (by its nature) eliminate some jobs and create some initial unemployment. For example, when factory robots are introduced to make cars, then human laborers will be displaced from those jobs. Obviously, this initial impact tends to be negative on the displaced workers while generally being positive for the employers.

While Vespasian expressed concerns about the impact of such devices, a commonly held view about more recent advances is that they have had a general positive impact. The usual narrative is that these advances replaced the lower-paying (and often more dangerous or unrewarding) jobs with better jobs while providing more goods at a lower cost. So, while some individuals might suffer at the start, the invisible machine of the market would result in an overall increase in utility for society. Not everyone agrees with this narrative and people tend to fear most what the next innovation might inflict.

The positive narrative can be the foundation for a utilitarian moral argument in favor of labor-saving technology. The gist is that the overall increase in benefits outweighs the harms created. Thus, on utilitarian grounds, the elimination of these jobs by means of technology is morally acceptable. Naturally, each situation can be debated in terms of the benefits and the harms, but the basic moral reasoning seems solid. If the technological advance that eliminates jobs creates more good than harm for a society, then the advance seems morally acceptable.

Obviously, people can disagree about who they regard as counting morally and who they regard as not counting (or not counting as much). Obviously, a person who focuses on the impact on workers will often have a different view than someone most concerned with the employer.

Another concern is what purpose of such advances should be. From the standpoint of a typical employer, the end is obvious: reduce labor to reduce costs and thus increase profits (and reduce labor troubles). The ideal would, presumably, to replace any human whose job can be adequately done cheaper by a machine. Of course, there is an obvious concern: to make money a business needs customers who have money. So, if profit is a concern, there must always be some people who have an income and who are not replaced by unpaid machines. One possible pinnacle of this sort of system might consist of a business model in which one person owns machines that produce goods or services that are sold to other business owners. On this model, everyone is a business owner, and everyone is a customer. This path does, of course, have some dystopian options. For example, it is easy to imagine a world in which most people are displaced, unemployed or underemployed while a small elite enjoys a lavish lifestyle supported by automation and the poor. Well, more so than our current dystopian world.

A more utopian view, the Star Trek future, is that the end of automation is to eliminate boring, dangerous, and unfulfilling jobs to free human beings from the tyranny of imposed labor. This is the scenario that anarchists like Emma Goldman promised: people would do the work they loved, rather than laboring as servants to make others wealthy. This path also has some dystopian options, such as the gentle one of Wall E. One can also imagine less gentle dystopias in which having the machines do everything for us is a nightmare.

 

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Deep Brain Stimulation (DBS) involves the surgical implantation of electrodes into the brain that, as the name indicates, stimulate the brain. The procedure is used to treat movement disorders and Tourette’s syndrome. It can also be used to treat neuropsychiatric disorders (such as PTSD).

From a moral standpoint, the use of DBS in treating such conditions is no more problematic than using surgery to repair a broken bone. If these were the only applications for DBS, then there would be no real moral concerns about the process. However, as is sometimes the case in medicine, there are potential applications that do raise moral concerns.

One matter for concern has been a philosophical problem for some time. To be specific, DBS can be used to stimulate the nucleus accumbens (a part of the brain associated with pleasure). While this can be used to treat depression, it can also (obviously) be used to create pleasure directly. Some might see it as a version of the infamous pleasure machine scenario of so many Ethics 101 classes. This is a technological upgrade to the classic pig objection most famously considered by J.S. Mill in his work on Utilitarianism. Thanks to these stock discussions, the ethical ground of pleasure implants is well covered (although, as always, there are no truly decisive arguments).

While the sci-fi/philosophy scenario of people in pleasure comas is interesting, what is more interesting is the ethics of DBS as a life-enhancer. That is, getting the implant not to use to excess or in place of “real” pleasure, but to make life a bit better. To use the obvious analogy, the excessive scenario is like drinking oneself into a stupor, while the life-upgrade would be like having a drink with dinner. On the face of it, it would be hard to object if the effect was simply to make a person feel a bit better about life—and it could even be argued that this would be preventative medicine. Just as person might be on medication to keep from developing high blood pressure or exercise to ward off diabetes, a person might get a brain boost to ward off potential depression. That said, there is a concern about abusing the technology (and the iron law of technology states that any technology that can be abused, will be abused).

Another area of concern is the use of DBS for enhancements. For example, if DBS can improve memory in Alzheimer’s patients, then perhaps it could do the same for healthy people. It is not difficult to imagine people seeking to boost their memory or other abilities through such technology. This, of course, is part of the broader topic of brain enhancements (which is part of the even more general topic of enhancements). As David Noonan has noted, DBS might become analogous to cosmetic or plastic surgery: what was once intended to treat serious injuries has also become an elective enhancement surgery. Just as people seek to enhance their appearance by surgery, it seems reasonable to believe that they might do so to enhance their mental abilities.

From a moral standpoint, there is the same concern that has long held about cosmetic surgery, namely the risk of harm when seeking enhancement. However, if enhancing one’s looks via surgery is morally acceptable, then enhancing one’s mood, memory and so on would be acceptable as well. In fact, it could be argued that such substantial improvements are more laudable than merely improving appearance.

There is also the stock moral concern with fairness: those who can afford such enhancements will have yet another advantage over those less well off, thus widening the chasm. This is a legitimate concern. But, aside from the nature of the specific advantage, nothing new morally. If it is acceptable for the wealthy to buy advantages in other ways, this should not be a special exception.

 

 

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As Stephen Colbert’s current show winds down after being terminated, seemingly at the command of the Trump regime, I thought I’d look back at an episode of the Colbert Report.

Campbell Brown appeared on the July 31, 2014 episode of the Colbert Report to promote her Partnership for Educational Justice filing a legal complaint in Albany aimed at eliminating New York’s teacher tenure laws.  In my previous essay, I discussed the main topic, namely that of the points made in the legal complaint. In this essay, I will discuss some interesting points from Brown’s appearance on the Colbert Report. While a 2014 event might seem like ancient history, her appearance raises some issues that are still relevant today.

When Brown went to the show, she encountered protestors outside the building. Interestingly, she described them as trying to silence her and was critical of their presence. Colbert responded by noting that the protestors were exercising their First Amendment rights.

On the face of it, Brown used a common tactic—accusing critics of wanting to silence those expressing opposing viewpoints and using this as grounds for rejecting, dismissing or ignoring the criticisms. To be fair, some critics do say their opponent should be silenced. Because I accept the right to freedom of expression, I am against the silencing of critics. And, because I am consistent, I also oppose the demands of critics to silence those they criticize. I will admit there are exceptions, but these are just that—the exceptions.

However, it is important to distinguish between protests or criticism and attempts to silence. To protest someone or something is to express a negative view, and this is different from endeavoring to silence someone. For example, someone might have protested Brown’s lawsuit by making a sign and standing by the entrance to the building. This would express a stance against Brown, but unless the person told Brown to stop expressing her views or tried to shout her down, the person was not trying to silence Brown. It must be noted that even if a person would be happy if the target of their criticism did shut up, this is different from trying to silence someone.

To criticize something is to assess and evaluate it, which is different from trying to silence a person. I was myself critical of Brown, but I did not endeavor to silence her.  She had every right to make her claims and express her views, just as I had the right to express my own—even when my claims were critical of her claims. To assess is to not to silence. Even to claim someone is wrong is not to silence them. Saying “you are mistaken” is not the same as saying “shut up.”

That said, the tactic of accusing protestors or critics of trying to silence one does have some rhetorical value. First, it allows a person to dismiss or reject protestors/critics with a lazy ad homimen: “they are just trying to silence me, so their claims have no merit.” Second, it has an emotional appeal in that it casts the protestors or critics as being opposed to freedom of speech. The irony, of course, is that this is an attempt to silence the critics.

Another interesting aspect of the discussion was when Colbert asked Brown about who was funding her group and lawsuit. As Colbert, who once owned his own super PAC noted, it is legal to keep the names of those funding such an organization secret—even when they are actively involved in politics. When pressed a bit, Brown used another common tactic—she claimed that anonymity protects the donors from being harassed. This ties into the previously discussed tactic in which protestors and critics are cast as villains who are trying to silence a person. In this case, the opponents of her views are presumably being presented as the sort of people who would cruelly harass those they disagree with. This would, of course, have cast Brown as a brave hero—she was facing harassment, so the anonymous donors did not have to.

As Colbert noted, not revealing her donors is her legal right. However, the claim that she is keeping them anonymous to protect them from harassment was dubious. While Brown was subject to criticism and was protested, she did not seem to have been subjected to onerous abuse. The anonymous donors would presumably also not be cruelly abused—though they might be criticized.

Those more cynical than I might claim that the donors were concealed for nefarious reasons and there was speculation about who is the money behind the mouth. Those on the left, naturally enough, suspected a right-wing cabal aimed at destroying unions and privatizing education. Those of more moderate views might suspect a bi-partisan group that was aimed at privatizing education for the profit of themselves and their cronies. Some might even take Brown at face value: they backers are sincerely concerned with education reform. But, for some reason, they did not want anyone else to know.

Given her commitment to secrecy, it is ironic that in 2013 Brown created the Parents’ Transparency Project which was claimed to be aimed at bringing transparency to the negotiation process involving teachers’ unions.

This situation did raise the larger issue of secret funding. On the one hand, it could be argued that people have a right to privacy when it comes to their legal, financial and political machinations. On the other hand, secret money has at least two negative impacts. The first is that it has a corrosive effect on the openness that is supposed to the hallmark of democratic systems. The second is that it keeps the public in ignorance—knowing who is backing which candidates, causes and lawsuits seems is important for making informed decisions. Of course, it can be countered that the public does not need to know this, that it should not matter who is really funding something as they hide behind patriotic or positive sounding fronts.

Back in 2014, I was for transparency in such funding. First, I thought that such secret money is contrary to the openness that is critical to a democratic system.  I still think that. I thought that secret money deals were appropriate for oligarchies and corrupt states, but hardly suitable for what is supposed to be an open democracy. Now, in 2026, I can see that the United States has become an open oligarchy, with open corruption. While there anonymous funding is still a thing, it seems less important now given this open corruption.

Second, I believe that people should take responsibility for their beliefs and actions—being able to influence without accountability is morally unacceptable. I still believe this, although the open and unpunished corruption of today shows that some can engage in open corruption with no accountability.

Third, there is the matter of courage—only a coward hides behind anonymity when there is no real danger beyond people knowing what a person is backing. I still think this, but now some feel safe engaging in open corruption.

 

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The Republican dominated state legislature in my adopted state of Florida has been passing anti-union laws, the latest targeting public unions. The law excludes police and firefighter unions, with some noting that the difference is that these unions tend to support Republicans. As of this writing, I am a member of the United Faculty of Florida, which is a union for faculty. But my chapter of the union might cease to exist under the new law. But this war on educational unions is not new and I am taking this opportunity to look back to 2014 for an earlier battle in this war.

Back in July, 2014 Campbell Brown announced her Partnership for Educational Justice filed a legal complaint in Albany. This complaint aimed at eliminating New York’s teacher tenure laws. It was claimed that the tenure laws interfere with the right of children to a sound education.

This was not Brown’s first rodeo. In 2013 Brown asserted that her Parents’ Transparency Project was aimed at bringing transparency to the negotiation process involving teachers’ unions. During this campaign Brown asserted that the union is “…a system that protects teachers who engage in sexual misconduct.” Brown ran into some conflict of interest issues in regards to this group and there were concerns about the anonymous funding behind it: as a 501(c)(4) nonprofit, PTP can legally keep its donors secret and engage in political spending. As should be no surprise, critics saw it as an attempt at union busting. To promote the lawsuit, Brown appeared on the July 31, 2014 episode of the Colbert Report—having faced protestors outside the show.

I did agree with some of Brown’s claims. First, I agree that children are entitled to a sound basic education. Her critics contend that her actual interest was in busting the unions at the behest of those bankrolling her efforts. While Brown’s actual motives are a point of interest, they are logically irrelevant to the merit of her claims and arguments. However, Colbert did raise a relevant criticism: if Brown was concerned that children receive a sound education and for educational equality, then her goals would have been better served by focusing on educational inequality, such as the extreme disparity in education funding. To be fair to Brown, it can be reasonable to focus on one issue and leave other issues to others. For example, it would be unreasonable to attack a person who is focused on fighting lung cancer for not dedicating their time to also fighting breast cancer. That said, this can also be used in bad faith as rhetorical cover. For example, a person who claims to be policing library book “for the children” might deflect a question about why they do not support school lunch programs by saying that their focus in on books. They could, obviously, also speak briefly in favor for school lunch programs even if they are focused on other matters.

Second, I did agree with her view of seniority. Schools sometimes follow a “first in, last out” policy. The problem is that merely being at a school a long time does not mean a person is a good teacher. I believe that employment should be, in general, based on competence and seniority is not a mark of competence, I favor a different approach. That said, experience can improve a teacher’s abilities, and I am a much better professor than I was I was fresh out of graduate school). However, improved abilities should be discernible in job performance and not just by looking at the calendar. Naturally, a rational case can be made for seniority—but I believe that all such cases must rest on the connection between experience and ability.

Third, I had some sympathy for her view that three years is not enough time to earn tenure After all, tenure at the university level requires six years (and, at my university, involves a yearlong review process starting in the department and ending with the university President). The easy and obvious counter is that teaching at a university requires an advanced degree (which requires 5+ years beyond the bachelor’s degree required to teach K-12), so having a shorter tenure period at K-12 schools is reasonable. So, my view is that this can be debated—but this should be done in good faith.

Fourth, I agreed with her view that tenure laws should not make it nearly impossible to fire ineffective or dangerous teachers. Tenure, as I see it, is supposed to ensure that teachers or professors can only be fired for cause and through due process. It is not so that teachers or professors can never be fired. At the college level, this is obviously connected to defending academic freedom. At the K-12 level, academic freedom might not be seen as being as great a concern. But there is a reasonable concern about protecting teachers from the vagaries of ideology, politics and such. To illustrate, tenure can be useful for protecting biology teachers from being fired because some people disbelieve in evolution or believe that vaccines cause autism. In the light of events during the second Trump regime, the need to protect teachers is even more obvious. Being consistent, I also hold that tenured conservative teachers should be protected, should “the left” undertake efforts for ideological purging. But I must note that what counts as ideological purging can be contentious. For example, a biology teacher who taught students that dinosaur bones are fake and that transgender people are possessed by demons would seem to be someone who shouldn’t be teaching. But some might argue that firing them would be a woke purge.

Brown’s view did get some psychological support from the common misconception that tenure means a teacher cannot be fired. However, tenure does not make one immune to being fired, just that due process must be used. It would be hard to defend the view that it is fine for schools to fire a teacher for any reason without any due process. After all, such firings would be (by definition) unjustified. It is, however, easy to defend the view that even a tenured teacher should be fired for being ineffective and certainly for being dangerous.

The problem is not with the general principle of tenure. If there is a problem, it would seem to lie in the process that is used and perhaps any rules that would keep the ineffective or dangerous in their jobs. The fix to this would not be the elimination of tenure, but a change in the process so that teachers are protected from unjustified dismissal and students are protected from ineffective or dangerous teachers. The system will never be perfect—but that is an unreasonable standard.

Way back in the summer of 2014, the United States Supreme Court struck down a Massachusetts law that forbid protestors from approaching within 35 feet of abortion clinics. The buffer zone law was established in response to acts of violence. Not surprisingly, the court based its ruling on the First Amendment, accepting that such a buffer zone violates the right of free expression of those wishing to protest or provide unsought counseling to those seeking abortions.

Though I am a staunch supporter of the freedom of expression, I do recognize that it has justified limits—especially when they protect the life, liberty and property of others. To use the stock examples, freedom of expression does not permit people to engage in death threats, slander, or panicking people by screaming “fire” in a crowded, non-burning theater.

While I recognize that a buffer zone serves a legitimate purpose in enhancing safety, I tended to agree with the court based on utilitarian considerations. The harm to freedom of expression arising from banning protest in public spaces exceeds the risk of harm caused by allowing the protests. But people who engage in threatening behavior should be removed, but that does not require a buffer law. But the arguments in favor of the buffer zone have merit—weighing the freedom of expression against safety concerns is challenging but can be debated in good faith.

Ironically, but as one would expect, the Supreme Court has its own buffer zone. There is a federal law that bans protestors from the plaza of the court. This buffer zone is legally justified by defining the plaza as not being public space. This is like how pro-gun legislatures ban guns from their workplace while ensuring that guns can be freely brought into most other places. There is, as far as I know, no requirement for consistency in the law. But morality usually requires such consistency, at least in the application of principles (although this can be debated).

A principle is consistently applied when it is applied in the same way to similar beings in similar circumstances. Inconsistent application is a problem because it violates three commonly accepted moral assumptions: equality, impartiality and relevant difference.

Equality is the assumption that people are initially morally equal and hence must be treated as such. Naturally, a person’s actions can affect the initially equality. For example, a person who commits horrible evil deeds would not be morally equal to someone who does predominantly good deeds.  Impartiality is the assumption that moral principles must not be applied with partiality. Inconsistent application would involve non-impartial application.

Relevant difference is a common moral assumption. It is the view that different treatment must be justified by relevant differences. What counts as a relevant difference can be very controversial. For example, while many people think that gender is not morally relevant to how much someone should be paid, there are those who disagree.  But relevant difference requires that principles be applied consistently.

Given that the plaza of the court is a space analogous to a sidewalk, then if free expression guarantees the right to protest in front of abortion clinics, then the same should apply to the plaza, even if allowing protests puts the court at risk. To grant protestors access to the sidewalks outside clinics while forbidding them from the plaza of the court would be an inconsistent application of the principle. The same can be said about protesting outside any federal building, such as a place conducting ICE operations.  But, of course, there is always a way to counter this.

One principled way  to counter this view is to show that an alleged inconsistency is merely apparent.  One way to do this is by showing that there is a relevant difference in the situation. If the Supreme Court wishes to morally justify their buffer while denying others their buffers, they must  show a relevant difference that warrants the difference in application. They could, for example, contend that a plaza is relevantly different from a sidewalk. One might point to a size difference and how it impacts protesting. They could also contend that government property is exempt from the law (much like certain state legislatures ban the public from bringing guns into the legislature building even while passing laws allowing people to bring guns into places where other people work)—but they would need to ground the exemption. Otherwise, it would just be defending an inconsistency with more inconsistency.

My view is that there is no relevant difference between the scenarios: if freedom of expression applies to the spaces around private property, it also applies to the spaces around state property (which is the most public of public property).

 

 

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Years ago, the Hobby Lobby decision by the Supreme Court of the United States raised numerous issues including one about beliefs and facts. Oversimplifying things for the sake of brevity, the owners of Hobby Lobby said they were opposed to abortion on religious grounds and they claimed to believe that certain forms of birth control are abortion. On this basis, they claimed that providing insurance to their employees that covered what they saw as abortion would violate their religious beliefs and impose an unreasonable burden.

As I tell my students in my ethics class, a moral issue often involves three main components. The first consists of the relevant facts. A factual matter is such that the claim being made is true or false regardless of how we think or feel about its truth.  For example, the mass of an object is a factual matter.  The second consists of the relevant concepts, which are often in dispute. Resolving such a dispute involves presenting and defending definitions of the key terms. In the Hobby Lobby case, a key concept is abortion. The owners of Hobby Lobby claimed that certain birth control methods are methods of abortion. This seemed to be because the owners claimed to believe that life begins at conception, and they seemed to reject the notion that pregnancy begins at implantation. 

If pregnancy begins at implantation (which is the scientific consensus), then the methods in question (specifically those which prevent implantation) do not involve abortion.  As such, the owners of Hobby Lobby would have held factual incorrect beliefs regarding these methods of birth control, and this would undercut their moral position. If their moral opposition is based on a factual error, it would seem to be unfounded.

However, if pregnancy begins at conception (which is not the scientific consensus), then these methods do involve abortion. In this case, the owners of Hobby Lobby would have been factually correct. But the question would remain as to whether their moral claims were correct. After all, a person can be right about the facts but be wrong about the morality, which leads to the third component, that of morality.

Obviously, a moral issue always has a moral component. In this case, the moral issue is whether abortion is morally wrong. The owners of Hobby Lobby claimed to believe this—but belief does not entail a claim is true. People  often sincerely believe false claims. Fortunately for the owners of Hobby Lobby, they did not need to argue their moral beliefs were correct or even plausible—they just had to convince the court that they believed what they claim to believe. Given the context, this is not unreasonable—after all, the issue addressed by the court was not whether abortion is morally wrong.

The owners of Hobby Lobby did not even need to argue for their factual claims and their concepts. They did not need to make the case that pregnancy occurs at conception and that the methods in question cause abortions.   Apparently, they merely needed to establish that they believe what they claim to believe. This raises an interesting general issue that goes beyond the specific Hobby Lobby case: should facts matter when considering cases involving value beliefs?

On the one hand, it can be argued that the facts should not matter—at least in the sense of requiring that the beliefs in question be proven. This can be based on practicality: religious beliefs would be difficult to prove, and this could be seen as imposing an impossible burden on those bringing legal cases involving their values. Also, legal cases about such beliefs are not about their truth but about the right to hold such beliefs.

On the other hand, it can be argued that facts do matter—especially when the beliefs have an impact on others. Returning to Hobby Lobby, the reasoning seems to have been that the owners should not be required to follow the law because they are opposed to abortion and they believe that the birth control methods cause abortions. If it is claimed that it does not matter whether the owners are right or wrong about actual claims, this establishes the general principle that the truth of the claims does not matter in such contexts. This raises the question of how far this principle should extend.

In the Hobby Lobby case, to say that the facts are not relevant might not seem serious. After all, the question of when life begins is one that is disputed and the Hobby Lobby owners could engage in a conceptual dispute over the definition of “abortion.” But suppose we accepted the principle that the facts do not matter, only the sincerity. This would entail that if the owners of Hobby Lobby claimed that paying women the same as men caused abortions, then all that would matter would be the sincerity of their beliefs. The fact that such a claim is obviously false and absurd would not matter. Once the principle that truth is irrelevant is accepted, then truth is irrelevant. If the owners could show they sincerely believed that equal pay for women would cause abortions, then the facts would not matter. One could argue that such absurd claims would not pass muster but a cynical person might point out that someone would just need to appear adequately sincere.

 

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