Author: Michael LaBossiere

When a new technology emerges, it is often claimed that it is outpacing ethics and law. Because of the nature of law in the United States, it is easy for technology to outpace it, especially given the average age of members of Congress. However, it is difficult for technology to outpace ethics.

One reason is that any minimally adequate ethical theory will have the quality of expandability. That is, the theory can be applied to what is new, be that technology, circumstances or something else. An ethical theory that lacks the capacity of expandability would become useless immediately and would not be much of a theory.

It is, however, worth considering that a new technology could “break” an ethical theory in that the theory could not expand to cover the technology. However, this would seem to show that the theory was inadequate rather than showing the technology outpaced ethics.

Another reason technology would have a hard time outpacing ethics is that an ethical argument by analogy can (probably) be applied to new technology. That is, if the technology is like something that exists and has been discussed in ethics, this ethical discussion can be applied to the new technology. This is analogous to using ethical analogies to apply ethics to different specific situations, such as an act of cheating in a relationship.

Naturally, if a new technology is absolutely unlike anything else in human experience (even fiction), then the method of analogy would fail absolutely. However, it seems unlikely that such a technology could emerge. But I like science fiction (and fantasy) and am willing to entertain the possibility of an absolutely new technology. While it would seem that existing ethics could handle, but perhaps something absolutely new would break all existing ethical theories, showing they are all inadequate.

While a single example does not provide much in the way of proof, it can be used to illustrate. As such, I will use the matter of personal drones to illustrate how ethics is not outpaced by technology.

While remote controlled and automated devices have been around a long time, the expansion of technology created something new for ethics: drones, driverless cars,  AI, Facebook, and so on. However, drone ethics is easy. By this I do not mean that ethics is easy, it is just that applying ethics to new technology (such as drones) is not as hard as some might claim. Naturally, doing ethics is hard—but this applies to very old problems (the ethics of war) and very “new” problems (the ethics of killer robots in war).

Getting back to the example, a personal drone is one that tends to be much smaller, lower priced and easier to use relative to government operated drones. In many ways, these drones are slightly advanced versions of the remote-control planes that are regarded as expensive toys. Drones of this sort that most concern people are those that have cameras and can hover—perhaps outside a bedroom window.

Two areas of concern are safety and privacy. In terms of safety, the worry is that drones can collide with people (or vehicles, such as manned aircraft) and injure them. Ethically, this falls under doing harm to people, be it with a knife, gun or drone. While a flying drone flies about, the ethics that have been used to handle flying model aircraft, cars, etc. can be applied here. So, this aspect of drones did not outpace ethics.

Privacy can also be handled. Simplifying things for the sake of a brief discussion, a drone allows a person to (potentially) violate privacy in the usual two “visual” modes. One is to intrude into private property to violate a person’s privacy. In the case of the “old” way, a person can put a ladder against a person’s house and climb up to peek through a window. In the “new” way, a person can fly a drone up to the window and peek in using a camera. While the person is not physically present in the case of the drone, their “agent” is present and is trespassing. Whether a person is using a ladder or a drone to gain access to the window does not change the ethics of the situation.

A second way is to peek into private space from public space. In the case of the old way a person could, for example,  stand on the public sidewalk and look into other peoples’ windows or yards. In the “new” way, a person can deploy his agent (the drone) in public space to do the same sort of thing.

One potential difference between the two situations is that a drone can fly and thus can get viewing angles that a person on the ground (or even with a ladder) could. For example, a drone might be in the airspace far above a person’s backyard, sending images of someone sunbathing in the nude behind her very tall fence on her very large estate. However, this is not a new situation—paparazzi have used helicopters to get shots of celebrities, and the ethics are the same. As such, ethics has not been outpaced by the drones in this regard.  This is not to say that the matter is solved people are still debating the ethics of this sort of “spying”, but to say that it is not a case where technology has outpaced ethics.

What is mainly different about the drones is that they are now affordable and easy to use—so whereas only certain people could afford to hire a helicopter to get photos of celebrities, now camera-equipped drones are easily in reach of the hobbyist. So, it is not that the low priced drone provides new capabilities, it is that it puts these capabilities in the hands of the many.

 

 

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While science and philosophy are about determining the nature of reality, politics is about creating perceptions alleged to be reality. This is one of many reasons why it is wiser to accept claims supported by science and reason over claims “supported” by ideology and interest.

Climate change is a matter of both science and politics. Ideally, the facts of climate change would be left to science and sorting out how to address it via policy would fall, in part, to the politicians using the facts. Unfortunately, politicians and other non-scientists make claims about climate science, usually in the form of unsupported talking points.

On the conservative side, there was a gradual shift in their talking points. In the beginning of climate change denial, they simply asserted that there was no climate change and the scientists were wrong. It was alleged that scientists were motivated by ideology to lie. In contrast, those whose profits could be impacted if climate change were real were presented as trustworthy sources.

In the face of mounting evidence and shifting public opinion, there was a shift to the claim that while climate change is occurring, it is not caused by humans. This shifted to the claim that climate change is caused by humans, but there is nothing we can (or should) do now. After Trump’s return to the White House, there has been a return to ignoring and denying climate change.  Those who are willing to concede that climate change is occurring while also wanting to do nothing about it often repeat some talking points.

One talking point is that scientists are exaggerating the impact of climate change and it will not be as bad as they claim. To be fair, this can be based on a reasonable concern about the accuracy of any prediction. In the case of a scientific prediction based on data and models, a reasonable inquiry would focus on the accuracy of the data and the quality of the models.

To rationally dispute the predictions would require showing problems with either the data or the models (or both). Simply saying they are wrong would not suffice—what is needed is clear evidence that the data or models (or both) are defective in ways that would show the predictions are excessive in terms of the predicted impact.

One indirect way to do this would be to find evidence that scientists are intentionally exaggerating. However, if they are exaggerating, this could be proven by examining the data and using it an accurate model. That is, if the scientists were exaggerating, the scientific method would show they were wrong. Shockingly enough, climate change deniers do not run better models with better data to disprove climate change.  

In some cases, it is claimed climate scientists are exaggerating from nefarious motives—a liberal agenda, a hatred of oil companies, communist tendencies, a desire for fame or some other wickedness. However, even if it could be shown that scientists have wicked motives, it does not follow that their predictions are wrong. To dismiss a claim because of an alleged defect in the person making the claim is an ad homimen fallacy. Being suspicious because of a possible nefarious motive can be reasonable, and such motives can undercut a person’s credibility. So, for example, the fact that fossil fuel companies have a financial stake does not prove that their claims about climate change are wrong. But the fact that they have an incentive to deny such claims makes it reasonable to be suspicious of their objectivity and credibility.  Naturally, if one suspects there is a global conspiracy of scientists driven by their interests, then one should be willing to consider that fossil fuel companies might be influenced by their financial interests.

One could, of course, hold that the scientists are exaggerating from a noble motive–so people will act. To use an analogy, parents sometimes exaggerate harms to try to persuade their children not to try it. While this is kinder than attributing nefarious motives to scientists, it is also no evidence against their claims. And even if scientists are exaggerating, there is still the question about how bad things really would be—they might still be very bad.

Naturally, if an objective and properly conducted study overturned the established science using the scientific method, I would have to accept that study. But no such study exists, for obvious reasons. If the climate change deniers had the truth on their side, they would be embracing rather than fighting science.

The second talking point is to claim that proposed solutions, such as laws, will not solve the problems. Interestingly, this talking point concedes that climate change is a problem. This point does have a reasonable foundation in that it would be unreasonable to take actions that are ineffective.

While crafting laws is politics, sorting out whether such laws would be effective falls in the domain of science. For example, if a law proposes cutting carbon emissions, there is a legitimate question as to whether it would have a meaningful impact on climate change. Showing this would require having data, models and so on—merely saying that the laws will not work is obviously not enough.

Now, if the laws and other proposals would not work, then the people who confidently make that claim should be equally confident in providing adequate evidence for their claim. It is reasonable to expect such evidence, although it is rarely forthcoming. One interesting exception is when scientists are critical of “mad science” proposals which would either not work or make things worse.

The third talking point is that the proposals to address climate change will hurt the American economy. As with the other points, this does have a rational basis, and it is sensible to consider the impact on the economy.

One approach is utilitarian: we can accept so much environmental harm (such as coastal flooding) in return for economic gain (such as jobs and profits generated by fossil fuels). Assuming that one is a utilitarian and that one accepts this value calculation, then one can accept that enduring such gains could be worth the harm. As usual, the costs will fall heavily on those who are not profiting. For example, fossil fuel executives do not have to endure the harms of climate change.

Utilitarian decisions about climate change should involve openly considering the costs and benefits as well as who will be hurt and who will benefit. Vague claims about damaging the economy do not allow us to make a proper moral and practical assessment of whether an approach will be correct. It might turn out that staying the course is the better option—but this needs to be determined with an open and honest assessment. However, this is unlikely to happen—especially during the Trump regime. To be fair and balanced, the mainstream Democrats will not save us.

It is also worth considering that addressing climate change could be good for the economy. After all, preparing coastal towns and cities for therising waters could be a huge and profitable industry creating many jobs. Developing alternative energy sources could also be profitable as could developing new crops able to handle the new conditions. There could be a whole new economy created, perhaps one that might rival more traditional economic sectors and newer ones, such as the internet economy. If companies with well-funded armies of lobbyists got into the climate change countering business, I suspect that a different tune would be playing. But I do worry that these solutions will create new problems; but that is how we operate as a species: solving problems by creating more problems until we become extinct.

 

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Way back in 2014 popular astrophysicist and Cosmos host Neil deGrasse Tyson did a Nerdist Podcast in which he seemed critical and dismissive of philosophy. There was a response from the defenders of philosophy and some critics went so far as to accuse him of being a philistine. While philosophy’s most ancient enemy is poetry (according to Plato), science is usually up for a good fight.

Tyson presents a not unreasonable view of contemporary philosophy, namely that “asking deep questions” can cause a “pointless delay in your progress” in engaging “this whole big world of unknowns out there.” To avoid such pointless delays, Tyson advised scientists to respond to such questioners by saying, “I’m moving on, I’m leaving you behind, and you can’t even cross the street because you’re distracted by deep questions you’ve asked of yourself. I don’t have time for that.”

While I wrote about this back in 2014, it is wise to revisit my views on the matter.

The idea that a scientist might see philosophy as useless (or worse) is consistent with my own experiences in academics. Since 2014, STEM has risen and the humanities have been under constant attack. As one example, as of Fall 2026 Florida A&M University will no longer have a distinct philosophy (and religion) major. I will still be teaching philosophy, but in a new combined program made up of philosophy, history, religion, and African-American studies.  We are, of course, lucky that we are still permitted to even exist. To be fair and balanced, a case can be made against philosophy. And the concern that the deep questioning of philosophy can cause pointless delays has merit and is well worth considering. After all, if philosophy is useless or even detrimental, then this would be worth knowing.

The main bite of this criticism is that philosophical questioning is detrimental to progress: a scientist who gets caught in these deep questions, it seems, would be like a kayaker caught in a strong eddy: they would be spinning around rather than zipping down the river. This concern also has practical merit. To use an analogy outside of science, consider a committee meeting aimed at determining the curriculum for state schools. This committee has an objective to achieve and asking questions is a reasonable way to begin. But imagine that people start raising deep questions about the meaning of terms such as “humanities” or “science” and become too interested in the semantics. This sidetracking will create a needlessly long meeting and little or no progress. After all, the goal is to determine the curriculum, and deep questions will only slow down progress towards this practical goal. Likewise, if a scientist is endeavoring to sort out the nature of the cosmos, deep questions can be a similar trap: she will be asking ever deeper questions rather than gathering data and doing math to answer her shallower questions.

Philosophy, as Socrates showed with his Socratic method, can endlessly generate deep questions. Questions such as “what is the nature of the universe?”, “what is time?”, “what is space?”, “what is good?”, “what’s for lunch?”, and so on. Also, as Socrates showed, for each answer given, philosophy can generate more questions. It is also often claimed that this shows that philosophy has no answers as every alleged answer can be questioned and only raises more questions. Thus, philosophy seems to be bad for scientists.

A key assumption is that science is different from philosophy in a key way—while it raises questions, proper science focuses on questions that can be answered or, at the very least, it gets down to the business of answering them and (eventually) abandons a question if it turns out to be a distracting deep question. Thus, science provides answers and makes progress. This, obviously enough, ties into another stock attack on philosophy: philosophy makes no progress and is useless.

One obvious reason philosophy is seen as not making progress and as useless is that when enough progress is made on a deep question, it often becomes a matter for science rather than philosophy. For example, ancient Greek philosophers, such as Democritus, speculated about the composition of the universe and its size.  These were considered deep philosophical questions. Even Newton considered himself a natural philosopher. He has, of course, been claimed by the scientists (many of whom conveniently overlook the role of God in his theories). These questions are now claimed by physicists, such as Tyson, who now see them as scientific rather than philosophical questions.

Thus, it is unfair to claim that philosophy does not solve problems or make progress. When philosophy makes progress in an area, that area often becomes a science and is no longer considered philosophy. However, progress is impossible without the deep questions and the work done by philosophers before the field was claimed to be a science.

At this point, some might grudgingly concede that philosophy did make some valuable contributions in the past, but philosophy is now an eddy rather than the current of progress.

Philosophy has been here before—back in the days of Socrates the Sophists contended that philosophical speculation was valueless and that people should focus on getting things done—that is, achieving success. Fortunately for contemporary science, philosophy survived and philosophers kept asking those deep questions that seemed so valueless then.

While some might see philosophy as a curious relic of the past, it is worth considering that some of the deep, distracting philosophical questions are well worth pursuing. Much as how Democritus’ deep philosophical questions led to the astrophysics that a fellow named Neil loves so much.

 

 

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A fundamental question of science, philosophy and theology is why the universe is the way it is. Over the centuries, the answers have fallen into two broad camps. The first is teleology, the view the universe is the way it is because it has a purpose, goal or end for which it aims. The second is t is the denial of the teleological view. Members of this camp often embrace purposeless chance as the “reason” why things are as they are.

Both camps agree on many things, such that the universe seems finely tuned. Theorists vary in their views on what a less finely tuned universe would be like. On some views, the universe would be just slightly different while on other views small differences would have significant results, perhaps even a lifeless universe. Because of this apparent fine tuning, a concern for philosophers and physicists is explaining why this is the case.

The dispute over this big question mirrors the dispute over a smaller question, namely why living creatures are the way they are. The division into camps follows the same pattern. On one side is teleology and the other side is its rejection. Interestingly, it might be possible to have different types of answers to these questions. For example, the universe could have been created by a deity (a teleological universe) who decides to let natural selection sort out life forms (non-teleological). That said, the smaller question does provide some ways to answer the larger question.

The teleological camp is very broad, with members including Aristotle and Joel Osteen. In the United States, the best-known form of teleology is Christian creationism. This view answers the large and the small question with God: He created the universe and the inhabitants. There are other religious teleological views—the creation stories of various other cultures and faiths are examples of these. There are also non-religious views. Among these, probably the best known are those of Plato and Aristotle. For Plato, roughly put, the universe is the way it is because of the Forms (and ultimately the Good). Aristotle does not put a personal god in charge of the universe, but he saw reality as eminently teleological. Views that posit laws governing reality also seem, to some, within the teleological camp. As such, the main division in the teleological camp tends to be between religious theories and the non-religious theories.

Obviously enough, teleological accounts have fallen out of favor in the sciences—the big switch took place during the Modern era as philosophy and science transitioned away from Aristotle (and Plato) towards a more mechanistic and materialistic view of reality.

The non-teleological camp is at least as varied as the teleological camp and is as old. The pre-Socratic Greek philosophers considered what would now be called natural selection and the idea of a chance-based, purposeless universe is ancient.

One non-teleological way to answer the question of why the universe is the way it is would be to take an approach like Spinoza, only without God. Which, some might point out, would not be like Spinoza at all. This would be to claim that the universe is what it is as a matter of necessity: it could not be any different from what it is. However, this might be unsatisfactory as one can still why it is necessarily the way it is.

The opposite approach is to reject necessity and embrace a random universe—it was just pure chance that the universe turned out as it did and things could have been different. So, the answer to the question of why the universe is the way it is would be blind chance. The universe plays dice with itself.

Another approach is to take the view that the universe is the way it is and finely tuned because it has “settled” down into what seems to be a fine-tuned state. Crudely put, the universe worked things out without any guidance or purpose. To use an analogy, think of sticks and debris washed by a flood to form a stable “structure.” The universe could be like that—where the flood is the big bang or whatever got it going.

One variant on this would be to claim that the universe contains distinct zones—the zone we are in happened to be “naturally selected” to be stable and hospitable to life. Other zones could be different—perhaps so different that they are beyond our epistemic abilities. Vernor Vinge explores the idea of variable physics in his novel A Fire Upon the Deep.  Or perhaps these zones “died” thus allowing an interesting possibility for fiction about the ghosts of dead zones haunting the cosmic night. Perhaps the fossils of dead universes drift around us, awaiting their discovery.

Another option is to embrace the idea of a multiverse. This allows an analogy to natural selection: in place of a multitude of species, there is a multitude of universes. Some “survive” the selection while others do not. Just as we are supposed to be a species that survived the natural selection of evolution, we live in a universe that survived cosmic selection. If the model of evolution and natural selection is intellectually satisfying in biology, it would seem reasonable to accept cosmic selection as also being intellectually satisfying—although it will be radically different from natural selection in many obvious ways.

 

 

 

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Despite being seen as an academic liberal (with all associated sins), I have long had a mixed view of affirmative action in education and employment. As an individualist who believes in the value of merit, I hold that college admission and hiring should be based entirely on the merit of the individual.  That is, the best qualified person should be admitted or hired. This is based on the principle that admission and hiring should be based on earning the opportunity and this is fairly and justly based on whether an individual merits the admission or job.

To use a sports analogy, the person who gets the first-place award for a 5K race should be the person who runs the race the fastest. This person has merited the award by winning. To deny the best runner the award and give it to someone else in the name of diversity would be absurd and unfair—even if there is a lack of diversity among the winners.

However, I know about the foundational institutionalized inequality in America and that addressing it can, on utilitarian grounds, allow treating some people unfairly for the greater good. There is also the matter of the fairness of the competition, which allows me to believe both in merit and affirmative action.

In my 5K analogy, I assume the competition is fair and victory is a matter of ability. Everyone one runs the same course, and no one possesses an unfair advantage, such as having a head start or using a bike. In such a fair competition, the winner earns the victory. Unfortunately, the world beyond the 5K is rigged and unjust.

Discrimination, segregation and unjust inequality remain the order of the day in the United States. So, when people are competing for admission to schools and for jobs, some people have unfair advantages while others face unfair disadvantages. For example, African-Americans are more likely to attend underfunded and lower quality public schools and they face the specter of racism that still possessed the body of America. So, when people apply for college or for jobs they are not meeting on the starting line of a fair race which will grant victory to the best competitor. Rather, people are scattered about (some far behind the starting line, some far ahead) and some enjoy unfair advantages while others carry unfair burdens.

Many of these advantages and burdens involve employment and education. For example, a family that has a legacy at a school will have an advantage over a family whose members have never attended college. As such, affirmative action can shift things in the direction of fairness by, to use my 5K analogy, moving people to bring everyone closer to the starting line for a fairer competition.

To use a problematic analogy, 5K races usually divide awards by age and gender (and some have wheelchair divisions as well). As such, an old runner like me can win an age group award, even though the young fellows have the advantage of youth in competing for the overall awards. The analogy works in that the 5K, like affirmative action done properly, recognizes factors that influence the competition that can be justly addressed so that people can achieve success. The analogy, obviously enough, does start to break apart when pushed (as all analogies do). For example, affirmative action with awards will never make me as fast as the youth, whereas affirmative action in college admission can allow a disadvantaged student to gain an education to match those who have enjoyed advantages.   It also faces the obvious risk of suggesting that the competitors are inferior and cannot compete in the open competition. However, it does show that affirmative action can be squared with fair competition.

In closing, I do believe that a person of good conscience can be concerned about the ethics of affirmative action. After all, it does seem to run contrary to the principles of fairness and equality by seeming to grant an advantage to some people based on race, gender and such. I also hold that a person of good conscience can be for affirmative action—after all, it is supposed to aim at rectifying disadvantages and creating a society in which fair competition based on merit can properly take place. Unfortunately, the most vehement foes of affirmative action are white supremacists and misogynists who do not argue in good faith. Ironically, the anti-DEI folks in positions of power, such as certain Trump regime officials, seem to have been gifted with these positions despite their utter lack of merit. That is, they exemplify the claimed horrors of affirmative action gone wild.

 

 

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Since education is expensive, it is reasonable for a student to expect a return on their investment (ROI). Given that the taxpayers contribute to the education of students, it makes sense that they also receive a return on their investment.

A practical measure of the ROI for a student is often the salary of the job they get relative to the cost of their education. Roughly put, a student should be able to work out of their school debt and be able to live with the job that education is supposed to get them. In terms of the ROI for the taxpayer, the return is similar: students funded by the taxpayers are supposed to get jobs and repay the investment through the taxes they pay. The student becomes the taxpayer, thus enabling the next generation of students to also become taxpayers. One could also factor in the role of the worker as a consumer and the impact of the very few who become job creators.

Because the cost of education grew so high, some folks placed their hopes on the free market. The idea was that for-profit schools would provide a high-quality product (education that leads to a job) at a lower cost than the state and traditional private schools. As might be suspected, the ideal turned out very different from the real.

While state schools obviously receive state funds, the for-profit schools received massive federal support. Unfortunately, this money was ill-spent: 20% of the for-profit school students defaulted on student loans within three years of entering the repayment period. About half of all student loan defaulters went to such for-profit schools, although these schools made up only 13% of the student population. The estimate was that about half the loans funneled through students to the for-profit schools were lost to default, which is not a good investment for the taxpayer.

Students most often default on loans due to financial hardship. As might be imagined, not earning an adequate paycheck leads to hardship. While there are over 2,000 programs where the students had loan debt, but whose earnings put they below the poverty line, 90% of these programs were at for-profit schools. As such, these schools were a bad investment for both taxpayers and students. While public and traditional private schools did account for the other 10%, they have been a better investment for taxpayers and students. This is not to say that such schools do not need improvement—but it is to say that the for-profit model was not a solution and probably never will be. For all the obvious reasons you suspect.

There were some attempts, such as in 2011, to impose regulations against the predatory exploitation of students (and taxpayers) by institutions. Not surprisingly, these were countered by the well-paid lobbyists working at the behest of the for-profits. Under the Trump regime, the stated goal is to destroy the Department of Education, so little help for students can be expected from that department.

Interestingly, some states pushed hard for performance-based funding for public institutions. For example, my adopted state of Florida has seen the Republican dominated state legislature micro-managing of education and imposing their professed ideology. In any case, we have been operating under a performance-based model in which funding is linked to achieving goals set by the state. Naturally, for-profit schools do not fall under the same rules as public schools, which could give them an advantage.

Some might suspect the performance-based funding approach is cover for reducing funding even more. This approach also shifts funding towards schools that have more political influence—which is supported by looking at where the money goes.

It might be suspected that performance-based funding was designed to harm public schools and push students towards for-profit schools. These schools often enjoy political connections and would benefit from reduced public education opportunities. Of course, the profits of such schools come largely at the expense of students and taxpayers. They are well-subsidized by the state in a new twist on the old corporate welfare system.  Shockingly enough, there has been little conservative rage at this wasteful socialism and these academic welfare queens.

 

 

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I have seen the cost of a university education explode since I was a student, even adjusting for inflation. As a professor, I can assure you that faculty salaries have not increased proportionally nor are we to blame for the increase in the cost.

Professor salaries, especially at state school, are often compressed. For those of us who have been around a while, the compression can be extreme. For example, a full professor who was hired in the early 1990s might have a salary on par with a brand-new hire. This is one reason why star faculty move around in search of ever larger salaries. Universities also rely heavily on underpaid adjuncts. While the rates vary, an adjunct might make $24,000 over nine months for teaching eight classes. As adjuncts usually receive no benefits, they are cheap labor for higher education. As adjuncts often have advanced degrees, they are perhaps the worst paid of the best educated.

To be fair and balanced there are star faculty who command large salaries and perks. They are celebrities of academics who use their status and connections to slide from one well-paying job to an even better paying job. Such stars sometimes enjoy exemptions from the mundane duties of faculty, such as teaching. As with any profession, stars are relatively rare and are usually not a significant factor in the increased cost of education. As such, blaming the faculty for the higher cost is not, in general, a legitimate complaint.

But complaining about the cost of education is legitimate: costs have increased significantly while there are increasing doubts about the quality and value of education. The rise of AI is also raising significant doubts, although AI is likely to be yet another bubble. However, we should put the cost of education into perspective. Being a professor, I will focus on the educational aspects.

At a state school like my own Florida A&M University, a student will most often take a class from a person with a terminal degree, usually a doctorate. A standard class is three credit hours, which means that a student is supposed to be in class two and a half hours per week. In my college four classes per semester is common and we are required to hold two hours of office hours per class. We also have various research and administrative duties. For example, I am the unit facilitator for Philosophy & Religion and seem to have a lifetime sentence to be the chair of two university committees. Thanks to email, students can contact us around the clock—and most faculty, including myself, respond to emails outside of normal hours and on the weekends. I’m writing this on a Sunday and just completed an email exchange with a student.  We also typically do work for the classes, such as grading, preparing lessons and so on throughout the week and during vacations. Even the unpaid three months that 9-month faculty get in the summer.

While the exact hours will vary, a student at a school like FAMU will have access to a professional with an advanced degree for 2.5 hours in the classroom, have access to 8 hours of office hours, and typically have unlimited email access. Most faculty are also willing to engage with students in their off time—for example, I have stopped while grocery shopping to explain a paper to a student who also happened to be in Publix at that time. This is in return for the cost of tuition, only a small fraction of which goes to the professor.

Now, compare this to the cost per hour for other professionals. For example, a psychiatrist might charge between $125-$285 per hour. As another example, a plumber might charge $9-150 an hour. As a third example, a consultant might charge anywhere from $30 to thousands of dollars an hour. As a fourth example, an attorney might charge hundreds of dollars per hour or more.

 Imagine what it would cost to have a plumber, medical doctor, or attorney spend 2.5 hours a week with you for 16 weeks (divided by the other people, of course), be available an additional eight hours a week, do work for you outside of those hours, respond personally to your emails and so on.  If professors billed like plumbers, lawyers or medical doctors, the cost of school would be insanely high.

It might be replied that plumbers, lawyers and medical doctors perform services that are more valuable than professors. After all, a plumber can fix your pipes, a lawyer could get you a nice settlement and a medical doctor might re-attach your quadriceps tendon. A professor merely teaches and surely that has far less value. The obvious practical reply is that people with college degrees make, on average, more than those without—this would suggest that teaching does provide some value. There is also the fact that plumbers, medical doctors and lawyers need education to do what they do—thus showing that education does provide something of value (although plumbers typically do not go to college to become plumbers).

As such, while education is too expensive, the actual cost of paying professors is ridiculously cheap relative to what other comparable professionals cost. You might suspect that I implying the blame lies elsewhere, and you would be right.

 

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One of my lasting lessons from political science is that every major society has a pyramid structure of wealth and power. The United States is no exception. However, the United States is also supposed to be a democratic society—which seems inconsistent with the pyramid.

While the United States has the mechanisms of democracy, such as voting, it might be wondered whether it is democratic or oligarchic (or plutocratic) in nature. While people might consider how they feel about this, feelings and anecdotes are not proof. So, for example, a leftist who thinks the rich rule the country and who feels oppressed by the plutocracy does not prove their belief by appealing to their feelings or anecdotes about the rich. Likewise, a conservative who thinks that America is a great democracy and feels good about the rich does not prove their belief by appealing to their feelings or anecdotes about the rich.

What is needed is a study to determine how the system works. One obvious way to determine the degree of democracy is to compare the expressed preferences of citizens with the political results. If the political results generally correspond to the preferences of the majority, then this is a reasonable (but not infallible) indicator the system is democratic. If the political results generally favor the rich and powerful while going against the preferences of the less wealthy majority, then this would be a reasonable (but not infallible) indicator that the system is oligarchic (or plutocratic). After all, to the degree that a system is democratic, the majority should have their preferences enacted into law and policy—even when this goes against the wishes of the rich. To the degree that the system is oligarchic, then the minority of elites should get their way—even when this goes against the preferences of the majority.

Some years ago, researchers at Princeton and Northwestern conducted just such a study: “Testing Theories of American Politics: Elites, Interest Groups, and Average Citizens”  using data gathered from 1981 to 2002. The researchers examined about 1,800 polices from that time and matched them against the preferences expressed by three classes: the average American (50th income percentile), the affluent American (the 90th percentile of income) and the large special interest groups.

The results were not surprising: “The central point that emerges from our research is that economic elites and organized groups representing business interests have substantial independent impacts on US government policy, while mass-based interest groups and average citizens have little or no independent influence.”

As noted above, a democratic system should result in the preferences of the majority being expressed in policies and laws more often than not. However, “When a majority of citizens disagrees with economic elites and/or with organized interests, they generally lose. Moreover, because of the strong status quo bias built into the US political system, even when fairly large majorities of Americans favor policy change, they generally do not get it.” As such, this study provided evidence that the United States was already an oligarchy before Trump, rather than a democratic state.

It might be contended that this system is fine since, to use a misquote, what is the preference for General Motors is the preference for Americans. That is, it could be claimed that the elites and most Americans have the same or similar preferences.  However, the study found that the interests of the wealthy are not substantially correlated with the preferences of average citizens. The preferences of most Americans do not match the interests of the wealthy, but the wealthy generally get what they want.

One objection is that the preferences of the majority are mistaken—that is, the majority wants things that are not in their best interest and what the elites want is what is best. For example, while most Americans might prefer stronger consumer protection laws, it could be claimed that they are in error because what is good for GM is good for the country, even if the many think otherwise. What is in their best interest is less consumer protection, which is what the financial elites want.

The obvious reply is that even if the majority is mistaken and the oligarchs know best, this would be arguing that oligarchy is better than democracy, not that America is not an oligarchy.

Another objection is that the system is democratic in that people vote for elected officials who then pass laws and enact policies. As citizens can vote them out of office, they must be expressing the preferences of the citizens—even though policy and law consistently goes against the expressed preferences of the majority. This is to say that we have democratically created an oligarchy, so it is still a democracy (or at least a republic).

This objection is interesting and raises a question about why people consistently re-elect those who consistently act contrary to their expressed preferences. One possibility is that the choices are very limited—you can vote for anyone you want, but a Democrat or Republican will almost certainly be elected. As such, the voters get to vote, but do not get real choices.

Another possibility is ignorance—people might not realize that what they get does not match what they claim to want. Such ignorance would put the moral blame partially on the citizens—they should be better informed.  Then again, given the abysmal approval rating for congress and President Trump, it seems that people do realize this. This creates an odd scenario: people really dislike them yet re-elect them. 

A third possibility is the power of propaganda engines devoted to convincing people that the laws and policies are good. So, while people prefer one thing, they are persuaded to believe that what is in the interest of the oligarchy is what they should like. People might also be distracted by other matters—for example, people who have been convinced they should fear transgender people and hate DEI will support politicians who appeal to their hate and fear, even if the politician also supports policies contrary to most other things the voter wants. In this case, the moral failing is on the part of the deceivers—they are tricking citizens and corrupting democracy.

Another approach to objecting to the study is to raise questions about the methodology. One question would be whether the 1,800 policies are properly representative of the political system. After all, if the researchers picked ones that favored the wealthy and ignored others that matched public preferences, then the study would be biased. As such, a key question is whether the sample used in the study is large enough and representative enough to adequately support the conclusion. Another question would be whether the study had the preferences of the people correct. After all, to properly claim that the laws and policies do not generally match the preferences of the majority, the claimed preferences would need to be the actual preferences of the majority. These concerns can be addressed by examining the study carefully and objectively, rather than merely dismissing or accepting it based on how one feels about the matter.

Looking back on the study from the perspective of 2026, it is evident that Trump and Congress are simply openly engaging in an oligarchy that has long existed in the United States.

 

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Some years ago, my running friend Nancy arranged a trash pickup after the Palace Saloon 5K. This involved spending about an hour and a half picking up trash in the hot Florida sun.  We runners created a pile of overstuffed trash bags full of a diversity of discarded debris.

On my training runs, I routinely pick up litter in San Luis Park. This ranges from the expected (discarded cans) to the unusual (a stereo system). These adventures in litter caused me to think about issues related to litter and especially the cost of litter.

One obvious cost of litter is the aesthetic damage. Litter is ugly and makes an area look, well, trashy. One of the many reasons I pick up litter is that I prefer not to run through trashy places.

Another obvious cost of litter is the environmental damage. Some of this is obvious, such as oil or paint leaking from discarded cans. Other damage is less obvious, such as erosion and flooding that can be caused by litter clogging storm drains.  There is also the harm done to animals directly, such as sea life killed when their stomachs fill with plastic debris. As with the aesthetic damage, the cost of the litter is largely paid by those who did not litter—such as the turtles and seabirds harmed by discarded items.

A less obvious cost is that paid by people who pick up the litter. For example, I take a few minutes out of almost every run to dispose of trash discarded by others. There are also walkers in my neighborhood who pick up trash during their entire walk—I will see them carrying full bags of cans, bottles and other debris that have been thrown onto the streets, sidewalks and lawns. Unlike my home state of Maine, Florida does not have a deposit on bottle and cans so there is no financial incentive to pick them up.

Those of us who clean up after the litterbugs pay with our time and effort. This is doubly annoying because the effort we need to expend to pick up the debris and dispose of it properly is more than the litterbug would spend to dispose of it. Litter is often scattered about, in pieces or tossed into the woods—thus making it a chore to pick up and carry. Also, carrying trash while running is more inconvenient than transporting it in a vehicle—and much of the trash beside the road is hurled from vehicles.

Some states, such as my home state of Maine, do shift some of the cost of litter to the litterer. To be specific, these states have a deposit on bottles and cans. When someone discards a can or bottle, they are throwing away the deposit—thus incurring a small cost for littering. When someone picks up the bottle or can, they can redeem it for the deposit—thus offsetting the cost of their effort. While this approach does not cover all forms of litter, it impacts the litter problem by providing people with an incentive to not litter or to pick up the litter thrown away by others.

This model of imposing a cost on littering and providing a reward for cleaning up litter is ethical. In terms of fairness, it seems right that the person littering should pay a price for the damage done and the cost imposed on others. It is also right that people who make the effort to clean up messes caused by others should receive compensation. The obvious challenge is making the model work on a broader scale beyond bottles and cans. I do, of course, think this should extend beyond mere personal littering, which is trivial when compared to the massive, organized littering of businesses.

 

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While there are various ways to define what it is for a pet to be exotic, I will focus on non-domesticated animals. Naturally, some of these pets do not involve much moral controversy. For example, keeping a tank of small fish seems morally acceptable—provided the fish are properly cared for. I am, for this short essay, mainly concerned with animals such as lions, tigers, bears, wolves, kangaroos, pythons, chimpanzees and other such animals. That is, animals that are wild and can present a danger to human beings. Also of concern are exotic pets that might pose no meaningful direct danger to humans but could be a danger to small animals or the local environment.

One obvious moral argument against allowing people to own dangerous exotic pets is that they are dangerous. Bears and tigers can easily kill humans. There is also the harm caused to ecosystems by escaped pets, such as the constrictors infesting my adopted state of Florida. This can be cast as utilitarian argument in terms of the harms outweighing the alleged benefits of having such exotic pets.

The obvious response to this argument is that non-exotic pets, such as dogs and horses, injure and even kill people. As such, the harm argument would also hold against having any pet that is a potential danger to a human. This response could be taken to entail at least two things. One is that all pet ownership of potentially dangerous animals should not be allowed. This would not appeal to most people, given the popularity of dogs. The other is that people should be allowed to have potentially dangerous pets, be the pet a dog or a bear. While this view has some appeal, the easy and obvious counter is that there are clear relevant differences between pets like dogs and pets like lions, tigers and bears.

While a domesticated animal like a dog or horse can seriously injure or kill a human, they are generally less dangerous and far less likely to attack than a wild species like a bear or tiger. After all, domestic animals have been (mostly) selected to not be aggressive towards humans and for other appropriate (from our perspective) behavior. So, while my dogs were good at biting, they were not as dangerous as a bear and never attacked a human, even when provoked. This is not to say that it is impossible for a well-behaved dog to turn violent. This is just to say that a well-trained dog is radically different from a well-trained bear or tiger.

While injuries caused by dogs are common, this is because there are so many dogs kept as pets. As such, even a tiny percentage of aggressive dogs will cause a relatively high number of incidents. There is also a reasonable concern about dogs that have been bred and trained to be aggressive. Such dogs present a threat to people and arguments can be made about restricting ownership of dog breeds that are alleged to be prone to violence.

Another obvious moral argument is based on the harms done to the exotic animals. While domesticated animals can do well living with humans (for example, my dogs have been happy living in my house—provided they got their runs and outdoor adventures), wild animals often do not do very well. Many who own exotic pets cannot provide the environment a wild species needs to be happy and healthy. There are also the concerns about medical care, proper exercise, diet and so on. As such, allowing people to own such exotic pets would often have negative consequences for the animals. Once again, the moral case against owning such pets can be made on utilitarian grounds.

An obvious reply is that domestic animals also have needs. As such, it could be contended that if the keeping of domestic animals is acceptable if they are properly cared for, then the same should hold for the exotic animals. This reply does have considerable appeal. After all, if an animal is properly cared for and is healthy and happy, then there would seem to be no moral grounds for forbidding a person from having such a pet.

The practical problem is that caring properly for such exotic animals is more challenging and more expensive than care for a domesticated animal. As I mentioned, my dogs have been happy living in my house and going on runs and expeditions with me. While medical care and food was not cheap, taking care of them was something I could easily afford. Exotic pets often present more serious challenges in terms of cost. For example, a tiger is very expensive to feed and one should not take a tiger out for an adventure to local dog park. However, with proper resources these challenges could be addressed.

As a final moral argument, there is the concern that it is simply wrong to keep an exotic animal as a pet. To steal from Aristotle, it is not the function (or nature) of wild animals to exist as pets for humans. While people and animals might form bonds, the wild animals are such that being made into a pet is a distortion or even violation of what they are, which would be wrong. This, of course, would seem to suggest that we have distorted animals and perhaps wronged them by domesticating them—which might be true.

This line of reasoning can be countered in various ways, ranging from arguing against there being such natures to religious appeals to the claim that humans were given dominion over the animals and thus we can do what we wish with them.

My own view is somewhat mixed. Since I have shared my home with many dogs and cats, it should be no surprise that I am morally fine with having a pet (provided they are well cared for). However, I think keeping exotic animals as pets is morally problematic. That said, some people do truly love their exotic pets and take excellent care of them. In the case of endangered species, there is also the added moral argument about the preservation of such species as pets—which does have some appeal when the alternative is extinction. This does, however, raise the moral issue of whether existing as pets (or domesticated animals) is morally better than being extinct.

In closing, I would certainly not have a lion, tiger or bear as a pet. A dire husky…well, sure.