Category: Ethics

The right to vote is part of the foundation of democracy and this includes the right to have one’s vote count. One part of protecting this right is preventing voter fraud. Fraud can rob legitimate voters of their right to decide the election. Another part is preventing voter suppression because it can rob people of their votes.

Republicans profess to be very worried about voter and election fraud (by Democrats) and have enacted laws aimed they claim will reducing such fraud. In response, Democrats claim these laws are aimed at voter suppression. Each side accuses the other of having wicked political motives. Many Democrats see Republicans as trying to disenfranchise voters who tend to vote for Democrats. The Republicans counter, without evidence, that Democrats support fraud because it is in their favor. While these beliefs might be sincere, sincerity is irrelevant to truth. What matters are the reasons and evidence that support the belief. As such, I will look at the available evidence and endeavor to sort out the matter.

One point of contention is the extent of voter fraud. One longstanding Republican talking point is that voter fraud is widespread.  For example, on April 7, 2014 Dick Morris claimed that over 1 million people voted twice in 2012. If this was true, then it would be a very serious matter: widespread voter fraud could change the results of elections and rob voters of their right to decide. Democrats admit fraud does occur but at such a miniscule level that it has no effect on election outcomes and does not warrant the measures favored by the Republicans.

Settling this matter requires looking at the available facts.  Dick Morris’ claim (which made the rounds as a conservative talking point), is false. But the fact that Morris was astoundingly wrong does not prove that voter fraud is not widespread. However, the facts do. Despite years of searching for fraud, the Republicans have not found any evidence (other their own efforts to overturn the 2020 election).

Republicans argue for voter ID laws by claiming they will prevent fraud. However, past investigations of voter fraud has shown only 31 credible cases out of one billion ballots. As such, this sort of fraud does occur—but only at an incredibly low rate.

In general, significant (let alone widespread) voter fraud does not occur although the myth is widespread. Republican claims about voter fraud are based on a myth and shows the lack of foundation for their claims and proposals regarding the matter. And yet they persist in their fairy tales of fraud.

It might be argued that while voter fraud is insignificant, it still must be countered by laws and policy changes, such as requiring voter IDs and eliminating early voting.  This has some appeal. To use an analogy, even if only a fraction of 1% of students cheated, then professors should still take some effort to prevent that cheating for the sake of academic integrity. Unless, of course, the measures used to counter that cheating did more harm than the cheating. The same would seem to apply to measures to counter voter fraud.

A key moral issue here is whether it is more important to prevent fraud or to prevent disenfranchisement. This is analogous to the moral concern about guilt in the legal system. In the United States, there is (supposed to be) a presumption of innocence on the moral grounds that it is better that a guilty person goes free than an innocent person be unjustly punished. In the case of voting, should it be accepted that it is better that a legitimate voter be denied her vote rather than an illegitimate voter be allowed to get away with fraud? Or is it better that an illegitimate voter gets away with fraud then to deny a legitimate voter her right to vote?

My moral conviction is that it is more important to prevent disenfranchisement and this should be given greater weight than fraud prevention. To avoid a straw man attack, I must say I am against fraud and favor rational safeguards against it. However, given the minuscule rates of fraud if attempts to reduce it result in disenfranchisement, then I would oppose such attempts on moral grounds. Naturally, others take a different view and believe it is worth disenfranchising voters in an (alleged) attempt to reduce the minuscule rates of fraud to even more miniscule levels.

Returning to the matter of facts, one  important concern is whether the laws and policies in question result in voter suppression. If they do not, even if they do nothing to counter voter fraud, then they might be tolerable (assuming they do not come with other costs).

But the evidence shows the laws allegedly aimed at preventing voter fraud serve as voter suppression measures, mostly aimed at minority voters. Keith Bentele and Erin E. O’Brien published a study entitled “Jim Crow 2.0? Why States Consider and Adopt Restrictive Voter Access Policies.” Based on their analysis of the data, they concluded “the Republican Party has engaged in strategic demobilization efforts in response to changing demographics, shifting electoral fortunes, and an internal rightward ideological drift among the party faithful.” The full study, from the journal Perspectives on Politics, is available here. Since this is a factual matter, those who disagree with these findings can counter this by providing an analysis of equal or greater credibility based on supported facts. Since the 2013 study, Republicans have increased their efforts to fight “fraud” and Trump has made it clear he wants Republicans to do anything they can to ensure Republican victories through such means as redistricting and various strategies that are obviously aimed at voter suppression.

It is a talking point among Republicans that most professors are tools of the Democrats and academic experts should not be trusted. While this has been an effective ad homimen, what is needed is evidence and arguments countering the claims.  If professors are tools of the Democrats and academic experts are not to be trusted, then it should be easy to provide credible, objective evidence and analysis showing that they are in error.

One of the best-known methods proposed to counter voter fraud is the voter ID law. While, as shown above, the sort of fraud that would be prevented by these laws almost never occurs, it serves to disenfranchise voters. As would be suspected, Hispanic and African-American voters are more likely than white Americans to lack the ID required by these laws.

Another approach is to make it harder for citizens to register. One example is restrictions on voter registration drives—Hispanics and African-Americans register to vote at twice the rate of whites via drives. It is not clear how these methods would reduce fraud. The restrictions mostly do not seem to be aimed at making it harder for people to register fraudulently—just to make it more inconvenient to register at all.

A third tactic is to reduce the available early voting times and eliminate weekend and evening voting. This would seem to have no effect on fraud but seems aimed at minority voting patterns. In 2008 70% of African-American voters in North Carolina cast their ballots early.  Minority voters are more likely than white voters to vote on weekends and in the evening. For example, 56% of the 2008 weekend voters in Cuyahoga County in Ohio were black.

A fourth tactic is to make it harder for people with past convictions to regain their voting rights. This impacts African Americans the most. This tactic does not prevent fraud—it merely denies people the right to vote.

The laws and policies allegedly aimed at voter fraud would not reduce the existing fraud (which is already miniscule) and the only effect would be to suppress voting. As such, these laws and proposals fail to protect the rights of voters and instead are a violation of that basic right. In short, they are either a misguided and failed effort to prevent fraud or a wicked and potentially successful effort to suppress voters in favor of Republican victories. Either way, these laws and policies are a violation of a fundamental right of American democracy.

 

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As I have written in other essays, the Dungeons & Dragons alignment system is surprisingly useful for categorizing people in the real world. This time I will look at chaotic evil.

In fantasy games, players often encounter chaotic evil foes—these include classic enemies ranging from the lowly goblin to the terrifyingly powerful demon lord. Chaotic evil foes are usually good choices for those who write adventures—no matter what alignment the party happens to be, almost no one has a problem with killing chaotic evil creatures. Especially other chaotic evil creatures. Fortunately, chaotic evil is not as common in the actual world as it is in game world. In the game system, chaotic evil is defined as follows:

 

A chaotic evil character is driven entirely by her own anger and needs. She is thoughtless in her actions and acts on whims, regardless of the suffering it causes others.

In many ways, a chaotic evil character is pinned down by her inherent nature to be unpredictable. She is like a spreading fire, a coming storm, an untested sword blade. An extreme chaotic evil character tends to find similarly minded individuals to be with—not out of any need for company, but because there is a familiarity in this chaos, and she relishes the opportunity to be true to her nature with others who share that delight.

 

The chaotic evil person differs from the lawful evil person in their view of law. While they are both evil, the lawful evil person is committed to order, tradition and hierarchy. As such, lawful evil types can create, lead and live in organized states (and all real-world states have lawful evil aspects). They can get along with others. In contrast, chaotic evil types have no commitment to order, tradition or hierarchy. But they can be compelled. For example, if the threat of punishment is sufficient, a chaotic evil type will obey those with greater power. Chaotic evil types do like order, tradition and hierarchy in the same way that arsonists like things that burn—without these things, the chaotic evil type would have much less to destroy.

Lawful evil types do often find chaotic evil types useful for specific tasks, although those wise about evil are aware of the dangers of using such tools. For example, a well-organized terrorist group or corporation might have lawful evil leadership. However, they will find many uses for the chaotic evil types. A lawful evil type is generally not likely to strap on an explosive vest and run into a crowd, but a chaotic evil person might. Lawful evil types also sometimes need people to create chaos so that they can then impose more order—the chaotic evil are the right people for this job. But, as noted, chaotic evil people can get out of hand—they are not constrained by order or even rational selfishness. This is why the smart lawful evil types do their best to see to it that the chaotic evil types do not outlive their usefulness.

The chaotic evil person differs from the neutral evil person in terms of their view of chaos. While the chaotic evil and neutral evil are both selfish and care nothing for others, the neutral evil person tends to be more rational and calculating in her selfishness. A neutral evil person can have excellent self-control and conceal her true nature to achieve her selfish and evil ends. Chaotic evil types lack that self-control and find it hard to conceal their true nature—that takes a discipline that the chaotic, by their nature, lack. President Trump provides an excellent real-world example of a chaotic evil person, although his followers might envision him as awful good.

The neutral evil see society as having instrumental value for them—but their selfishness means that they will take actions that can destroy society. The chaotic evil person sees no value in society other than as presenting a target rich environment for their evil. In our world, chaotic evil types tend to be those who commit horrific crimes, endeavor to corrupt and destroy nations, or engage in acts of brutal terror.

While chaotic evil types are chaotic and evil, they can take up the mantle of a cause and purport to be acting for some greater good. However, their actions disprove their claims about their alleged commitment to anything good. They might take up a religious or political cause to assuage whatever shreds of conscience they might still retain—or do so as part of their chaotic game.

In an orderly society that does not need the chaotic evil people to do evil tasks, smarter chaotic evil types try to hide from the authorities—though their nature drives them to commit evil. Those that are less clever commit their misdeeds and are quickly caught. The cleverer might never be caught and become legends. Fortunately for the chaotic evil (and unfortunately for everyone else), they have plenty of opportunities to act on their alignment. There are always organizations that are happy to have them and there are always places where they can act in accord with their true natures—often with the support and blessings of the authority. In the end, though many are willing to make use of their morality, no rational person wants the chaotic evil around.

 

 

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As noted in other essays I’ve written on the subject, it is often useful to look at the actual world in terms of the D&D alignment system. In this essay, I will look at the alignment that many players find the most annoying: lawful good (or, as some call it, “awful good”).

Pathfinder, which is a version of the D20 D&D system, presents the alignment as follows:

 

A lawful good character believes in honor. A code or faith that she has unshakable belief in likely guides her. She would rather die than betray that faith, and the most extreme followers of this alignment are willing (sometimes even happy) to become martyrs.

A lawful good character at the extreme end of the lawful-chaotic spectrum can seem pitiless. She may become obsessive about delivering justice, thinking nothing of dedicating herself to chasing a wicked dragon across the world or pursuing a devil into Hell. She can come across as a taskmaster, bent upon her aims without swerving, and may see others who are less committed as weak. Though she may seem austere, even harsh, she is always consistent, working from her doctrine or faith. Hers is a world of order, and she obeys superiors and finds it almost impossible to believe there’s any bad in them. She may be more easily duped by such imposters, but in the end she will see justice is done—by her own hand if necessary.

 

In the fantasy worlds of role-playing games, the exemplar of the lawful good alignment is the classic paladin. Played properly, a paladin character is a paragon of virtue, a force of righteousness, a defender of the innocent and a pain in the party’s collective ass. This is because the paladin and, to a somewhat lesser extent, all lawful good characters are very strict about being good. They are usually willing to impose their goodness on the party, even when this means that the party must take more risks, do things the hard way, or forgo some gain. For example, lawful good characters usually insist on destroying evil magical items or sealing them away, even when they could be cashed in for stacks of gold.

In terms of actual world moral theories, lawful good tends to closely match virtue theory: the objective is to be a paragon of virtue and all that entails. In actual game play, players tend to (knowingly or unknowingly) embrace the sort of deontology (rules-based ethics) made famous by our good dead friend Immanuel Kant. On this view, morality is about duty and obligations, the innate worth of people, and the need to take action because it is right (rather than expedient or prudent). Like Kant, lawful good types tend to be absolutists—there is one and only one correct solution to any moral problem and there are no exceptions. The lawful good types also tend to reject consequentialism—while the consequences of actions are not ignored (except by the most fanatical of the lawful good), what ultimately matters is whether the act is good in and of itself.

In the actual world, a some purport to be lawful good—that is, they claim to be devoted to honor, goodness, and order. Politicians, not surprisingly, often try to cast themselves, their causes and their countries in these terms. As might be suspected, most of these people are trying to deceive others or themselves—they mistake their prejudices for goodness and their love of power for a devotion to a just order.  While those skilled at deceiving others are dangerous, those who have convinced themselves of their own goodness can be far more dangerous: they are willing to destroy all who oppose them for they believe that those people must be evil.

Fortunately, there are some lawful good types in the world. These are the people who sincerely work for just, fair and honorable systems of order, be they nations, legal systems, faiths or organizations. While they can seem a bit fanatical at times, they do not cross over into the evil that serves as a key component of true fanaticism.

Neutral good types tend to see the lawful good types as being too worried about order and obedience. The chaotic good types respect the goodness of the lawful good types, but find their obsession with hierarchy, order and rules oppressive. However, good creatures do their best to avoid willingly and knowingly harming other good creatures. So, while a chaotic good person might be critical of a lawful good organization, she would probably not try to destroy it. 

Chaotic evil types are the antithesis of the lawful good types and they are devoted enemies. The chaotic evil folks hate the order and goodness of the lawful good, and delight in destroying them. Many in the Trump regime seem to embrace chaos and evil.

Neutral evil types are opposed to the goodness of the lawful good but can be adept at exploiting both the lawful and good aspects of the lawful good. Of course, the selfishly evil need to avoid exposure, since the good will not willingly suffer their presence.

Lawful evil types can often get along with the lawful good types in serving the cause of order. Both respect tradition, authority and order—although they do so for very different reasons. Classic American Republicans and Democrats tended to be lawful evil. Bill Clinton, for example, seems to abide by this alignment although some might see him as more lawful neutral.  Lawful evil types often have compunctions that can make them seem to have some goodness and the lawful good are sometimes willing to see such compunctions as signs of the possibility of redemption. In general, the lawful good and lawful evil are most likely to be willing to work together at the societal level. For example, they might form an alliance against a chaotic evil threat to their nation. Inevitably, though, the lawful good and lawful evil must end up in conflict.  Which is as it should be.

 

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D&D and associated games have a famous alignment system that defines the morality of creature in terms of good, evil, neutral, lawful and chaotic. In Pathfinder version of the game, neutral good is characterized as follows:

 

A neutral good character is good, but not shackled by order. He sees good where he can, but knows evil can exist even in the most ordered place.

A neutral good character does anything he can, and works with anyone he can, for the greater good. Such a character is devoted to being good, and works in any way he can to achieve it. He may forgive an evil person if he thinks that person has reformed, and he believes that in everyone there is a little bit of good.

 

In a fantasy campaign, the player characters usually encounter neutral good beings as allies who render aid and assistance. Even evil player characters are willing to accept the assistance of the neutral good, knowing that they are more likely to try to persuade them to the side of good than smite them with righteous fury. Neutral good creatures are rare in most fantasy worlds as good types tend to polarize towards law and chaos.

Not surprisingly, neutral good types are rare in the real world. A neutral good person has no special commitment to order or lack thereof—what matters is the extent to which order or lack of it contributes to the greater good. For those devoted to the preservation of order, or its destruction, this can be frustrating.

While the neutral evil person embraces the moral theory of ethical egoism (that each person should act solely in her self-interest), the neutral good person embraces altruism—the moral view that each person should act, at least sometimes, in the interest of others. In informal terms, the neutral good person is generous rather than selfish. The neutral good position is sometimes portrayed as stupidly altruistic. Stupid altruism presents the altruist as sacrificing everything for the sake of others or being willing to help anyone, regardless of who they are or what they might be doing. While a neutral good person is willing to sacrifice for others and willing to help people, being neutral good does not require being unwise or stupid. So, a person can be neutral good and still consider her own needs. After all, the neutral good person considers the interests of everyone, and she is included among everyone. A person can also be selective in her assistance and still be neutral good. For example, helping an evil person do evil things would not be a good thing and hence a neutral good person would not be obligated to help—and would probably oppose the evil person.

Since a neutral good person works for the greater good, the moral theory of utilitarianism tends to fit this alignment. For the utilitarian, actions are good to the degree that they promote utility (what is of value) and bad to the degree that they do the opposite. Classic utilitarianism (that of J.S. Mill) takes happiness to be good and actions are assessed in terms of the extent to which they create happiness for humans and, as far as the nature of things permit, sentient beings. Put in bumper sticker terms, both the utilitarian and the neutral good advocate the greatest good for the greatest number.

This commitment to the greater good can present some potential problems. For the utilitarian, one classic problem is that what seems rather bad can have great utility. For example, Ursula K. Le Guin’s classic short story “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas” puts into literary form the question raised by William James:

 

Or if the hypothesis were offered us of a world in which Messrs. Fourier’s and Bellamy’s and Morris’s utopias should all be outdone, and millions kept permanently happy on the one simple condition that a certain lost soul on the far-off edge of things should lead a life of lonely torture, what except a specifical and independent sort of emotion can it be which would make us immediately feel, even though an impulse arose within us to clutch at the happiness so offered, how hideous a thing would be its enjoyment when deliberately accepted as the fruit of such a bargain?

 

In Guin’s tale, the splendor, health and happiness that is the land of Omelas depends on the suffering of a person locked away from all kindness in a dungeon (with not even a single dragon). The inhabitants of Omelas know the price they pay and some, upon learning about the dungeon dweller, walk away.  Hence the title. For the utilitarian, this scenario would seem to be morally correct: a small disutility leads to a vast amount of utility. Or, in terms of goodness, the greater good seems well served.

Because the suffering of one person creates such an overabundance of goodness for others, a neutral good character might tolerate the situation. After all, benefiting some almost always comes at a cost to others. It is, however, reasonable to consider a neutral good person would find the situation morally unacceptable. Such a person might not free the sufferer because doing so would harm so many other people, but she might elect to walk away.

A chaotic good type, who is committed to liberty and freedom, would certainly oppose the imprisonment of the innocent person—even for the greater good. A lawful good type might face the same challenge as the neutral good type: the order and well-being of Omelas rests on the suffering of one person and this could be seen as a heroic sacrifice on the part of the sufferer. Albeit one they did not choose, which might not sit well with some lawful good creatures. Lawful evil types would probably be fine with the scenario, although they would have issues with the otherwise benevolent nature of Omelas. Truly subtle lawful evil types might delight in the situation and regard it as a magnificent case of self-delusion in which people think they are selecting the greater good but are merely choosing evil.

Neutral evil types would also be fine with it—if it was someone else in the dungeon. Chaotic evil types would not care about the sufferer but would certainly seek to destroy Omelas. They might, ironically, try to do so by rescuing the sufferer and seeing to it that he is treated with kindness and compassion (thus breaking what is supposed to be a necessary condition for Omelas’ exalted state).

 

 

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In my previous essay, I considered various arguments that we have obligations to people we do not know. In this essay I will consider hunger in the United States of America in the context of obligations.

The United States is both the wealthiest nation and one that has been facing an obesity epidemic. Hence, it might seem odd to claim that hunger is a problem in the United States. Millions of Americans, many of whom are white and rural, suffer from food insecurity. American children, senior citizens and people with disabilities make up the largest demographic of people who are food insecure. Most families suffering from food insecurity have at least one employed adult. One reason why employed adults need assistance is declining wages: people can work multiple jobs and still not earn enough to buy adequate food. These facts run counter to the usual stereotypes that are exploited by wicked politicians.

The United States does have a program to address hunger—what was once called food stamps is now called SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program). While sometimes enjoying bipartisan support, the recent politics of ignorant cruelty has focused on gutting programs that help people, such as SNAP. On average, SNAP recipients run out of benefits before the month ends and must turn to charity, such as food pantries.

The federal government also uses taxpayer money to subsidizes the production of certain crops. Corn gets the lion’s share and is distantly followed by wheat and soybeans. Rice, sorghum, peanuts, barley and sunflowers also receive some subsidies while the only subsidized fruit is the apple. Because of such subsidies, food products that contain corn, wheat or soybeans tend to be the cheapest. Hence, low-income people get most of their calories from such foods. Examples include sodas, energy drinks, sports drinks, chicken, grain-based desserts, tacos and pizza.  These foods tend to be high calorie and low nutrition foods. To be fair and balanced, a taco with the right ingredients could be healthy food, but these healthy versions are usually not what low income people are eating.

Food deserts also impact the diet of people with low incomes. These are areas lacking supermarkets but usually have fast food restaurants and small markets (like convenience stores). A surprising number of Americans live in these food deserts and do not own a car that would allow them to drive to buy healthier (and cheaper) food. The food sold at these places tends to be more expensive than the food available at a grocery store and they tend to be high calorie, low-nutrient foods.

These two factors help explain the seeming paradox of an obesity epidemic among hungry people: we have easy access to high calorie foods of low nutritional value. Hence, people tend to be overweight while also being malnourished. Now that the nature of the problem has been discussed, I now turn to the matter of obligations to others.

On the face of it, the main issue regarding obligations to the hungry would seem to focus on whether there is an obligation to provide people with food. This can be broken down into two sub-categories. First, whether there is a collective obligation to provide hungry citizens with food via the machinery of the state (in this case, SNAP). Second, whether there is an obligation on the part of better-off citizens to provide food to their hungry fellow citizens.

Arguing that the state has such an obligation is relatively easy. A minimal obligation of the state is to provide for the good of the people and to protect them from harm. While the traditional focus is on military and police forces, this would seem to extend to protecting citizens from nutritional deficits and hunger.

A utilitarian argument can also be advanced for this obligation: helping to feed millions of citizens creates more utility than disutility. Part of this is the fact that people are happier when they have good food to eat. Part of this is the less obvious fact that when people get hungry enough, open rebellion might seem better than starving to death—so feeding the poor helps maintain social stability. Or so those who praise bread and circuses might claim.

One objection against this view is to contend that providing such support creates a culture of dependence encouraging people to stay poor. The obvious is that, as noted above, those receiving the aid are mostly people who are seniors, people with disabilities or children—people who should not be expected to labor to survive in an advanced, wealthy nation. Also, as noted above, most families that receive SNAP have at least one working adult. People are not on SNAP because they turn down opportunities for riches—they are on SNAP because of the lack of opportunities.

Things become more controversial when the issue switches to whether better off individuals are obligated to assist their fellow citizens. This means doing more than just paying taxes that help fund SNAP. Such assistance might involve donating money, time or food.

Intuitively, people usually think that such charitable acts are nice things to do and worthy of praise. However, some think that there is no obligation to do this and that someone who does not assist others in this way is not a bad person. This does have some appeal—after all, being bad is typically seen as being actively bad rather than merely not doing good things.

Turning back to the general arguments for obligations to others, there are religious injunctions to feed the hungry (which explains why American churches are on the front line in the war against hunger), and it is easy to reverse the situation: if I were hungry, I would want my fellow citizens to help me. As such, I should help them when I am well off.

The utilitarian argument also applies here: a person who gives a little to help the hungry will incur a small cost (but might gain in happiness) but it will yield greater happiness on the part of the recipients who now have something to eat. As such, the utilitarian argument would seem to ground this obligation. Of course, there is the stock objection about building dependence, which is all too often made by people who inherited their wealth or acquired it by exploiting the labor of others.

Rational self-interest would also seem to provide a reason to provide such aid—there are plenty of selfish reasons to do so, not the least of which is gaining a good reputation and helping to keep social order.

The debt argument might work here as well—if a person has benefited from the assistance of others, then she would be obligated to repay that debt. However, a person could contend that if they have not received food from others when hungry, they owe nothing.

The argument from virtue applies here: the virtue of generosity obligates a person to give to others in need. This, and the religious injunction, would seem to be the truest forms of actual obligation—as opposed to merely doing it from self-interest or for utility.

Digging deeper, there is also another issue. As noted above, people are hungry mostly because they are not earning enough to purchase adequate food. One reason for this is that wages have consistently declined for most Americans, although the profits of businesses have steadily increased. As such, the United States is the wealthiest country in the world yet has many very poor people. This raises the moral issue of whether employers are obligated to pay a living wage—a wage that would enable a person to purchase food on that salary without requiring the assistance of the state or others.

Businesses obviously have a strong self-interest argument against not paying living wages when they can get away with it. Lower wages mean greater profits and shifting the cost to other people (taxpayers and those who contribute to food pantries) means that their workers survive despite the lack of a living wage. However, there is still the moral question of whether they have an obligation to provide such a living wage.

The religious injunctions would seem to apply to employers that accept these specific faiths—and companies that wish to claim they are religious should be obligated to act the part. But companies that use religious arguments seem more focused on legalizing their intolerance and harming others rather than helping people. However, secular companies can easily claim exemption.

Reversing the situation would also apply: presumably those running businesses would not want to be so poorly paid. Of course, they would probably claim that as job creators there is a relevant difference.

The utilitarian argument does involve some complexities. After all, there can be good utilitarian arguments for allowing some to suffer so as to produce greater utility for others—so a case could be made that the utility generated outweighs the disutility of the low pay. However, the opposite sort of argument can also be made.

The debt argument would also apply. If corporations are people (or legal fictions run by people), then they would have a debt to the others that make civilization possible. As such, they should pay back this debt, perhaps in the form of decent wages.

The virtues of fairness and generosity would seem to obligate employers to pay employees fairly and this should be a living wage, at least in many cases. If corporations are people, then they should surely be held to the same obligations as actual people.

Thus, there are good reasons to accept that we are obligated to help others and feed the hungry.

 

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Obligations to People We Don’t Know

“It’s a good thing, protecting other people’s homes.”
–Himmel the Hero

One of the classic moral problems is the issue of whether we have moral obligations to people we do not know.  If we have such obligations, then there are also questions about the foundation, nature and extent of these obligations. If we do not have such obligations, then there is the obvious question about why there are not such obligations. I will start by considering some stock arguments regarding our obligations to others.

One approach is to base such moral obligations on religion. This requires two main steps. The first is establishing the religion imposes such obligations. A stickler might even require that the truth of the religion be established. The second is transitioning from religion to ethics.

Many religions impose such obligations. For example, John 15:12 conveys God’s command: “This is my commandment, that you love one another, as I have loved you.”  If love involves obligations, then this would place us under these obligations. That said, one could argue for an empty love free of any obligations Other faiths include injunctions to assist others.

In terms of transitioning from religion to ethics, one way is to use divine command theory—the moral theory that what God commands is right because He commands it. This does raise the classic Euthyphro problem: is something good because God commands it, or is it commanded because it is good? If the former, goodness seems arbitrary. If the latter, then morality would be independent of God and divine command theory would be false.

Using religion as the basis for moral obligation is also problematic because doing so would require proving that the religion is correct—and this is no easy task. To be fair and balanced, attempting to prove a moral theory would also be challenging. There is also the practical problem that people differ in faiths, which makes finding a universal religious grounding for moral obligations difficult. But one could either argue that their faith is the one true view or that multiple religions enjoin us to accept obligations to others.

Another approach is to argue for moral obligations using the moral method of reversing the situation.  This method is based on the Golden Rule (“do unto others as you would have them do unto you”) and the idea is that consistency requires a person treat others as they would wish to be treated.

To make the method work, a person would need to want others to act as if they had obligations to them and this would  obligate the person to act as if she had obligations to them. For example, if I would want someone to help me if I were hit by a car and dying in the street, then consistency requires I accept the same obligation: If I should be helped, then consistency requires that I must help others.

This approach is somewhat like that of Immanuel Kant. He argues that because a person necessarily regards herself as an end (and not just a means to an end), then she must also regard others as ends and not merely as means.  He endeavors to use this to argue in favor of various obligations and duties, such as helping others in need.

There are, unfortunately, at least two counters to this sort of approach. The first is that it is easy imagine someone willing to forgo assistance and can consistently refuse to accept obligations to others. So, for example, a person might be willing to starve rather than accept assistance from other people. While such people might seem irrational, if they are sincere then they cannot be accused of inconsistency.

The second is that a person can argue that there is a relevant difference between himself and others that would justify their obligations to him while freeing him from his obligations to them. For example, a person of a high social class might claim this obligates people of lesser classes while freeing her from any obligations to them.  Naturally, the person must provide reasons in support of this alleged relevant difference.

A third approach is to present a utilitarian argument. For a utilitarian, like John Stuart Mill, morality is assessed in terms of consequences: the correct action is the one that creates the greatest utility (typically happiness) for the greatest number. A utilitarian argument for obligations to people we do not know would be rather straightforward. The first step would be to estimate the utility generated by accepting a specific obligation to people we do not know, such as rendering aid to an intoxicated person who is about to be assaulted. The second is to estimate the disutility generated by imposing that obligation. The third step is to weigh the utility against the disutility. If the utility is greater, then such an obligation should be imposed. If the disutility is greater, then it should not.

This approach rests on embracing utilitarianism. There are numerous arguments against this moral theory, and to the degree they are effective, they would undercut a utilitarian grounding for obligations. Even for utilitarianians, there is the possibility that there will always be greater utility in not imposing obligations, thus undermining the claim that we have obligations to others.

A fourth approach is to consider the matter in terms of rational self-interest and operate from the assumption that people should act in their self-interest. In terms of a moral theory, this would be ethical egoism: the moral theory that a person should act in her self-interest rather than acting in an altruistic manner.

While accepting that others have obligations to me would certainly be in my self-interest, it initially appears that accepting obligations to others would be contrary to my self-interest. That is, I would be best served if others did unto me as I would like to be done unto, while I am free to do unto them as I wish. If I could get away with this, it would be ideal (assuming I am selfish). However, as a matter-of-fact people tend to notice and respond negatively to a lack of reciprocation. So, if having others accept that they have some obligations to me were in my self-interest, then it would be in my self-interest to pay the price for such obligations by accepting obligations to them.  For those who like evolutionary stories in the context of ethics, the tale is easy to tell: those who accept obligations would be more successful than those who do not.

The stock counters to the self-interest argument are the problem of Glaucon’s unjust man and Hume’s sensible knave. While it seems rational to accept obligations in return for getting others to accept similar obligations, it seems preferable to exploit them while avoiding acting on one’s supposed obligations whenever possible. If a person should act in accord with self-interest, then this is what a person should do.

It can be argued that this approach would be self-defeating: if people exploited others without reciprocation, the system of obligations would eventually fall apart. As such, each person has an interest in ensuring that others hold to their obligations. Humans do, in fact, seem to act this way—those who fail in their obligations sometimes get a bad reputation and are distrusted. From a purely practical standpoint, acting as if one has obligations to others would thus seem to be in a person’s self-interest because the benefits would generally outweigh the costs

The counter to this is that each person still has an interest in avoiding the cost of fulfilling obligations and there are ways to do this using deceit, power and such. As such, a classic moral question arises once again: why act on your alleged obligations if you can get away with not doing so? Aside from the practical reply given above, there seems to be no answer from self-interest. In fact, the President of the United States is this sort of person.

A fifth option is to look at obligations to others as a matter of debts. We are born into a worldwide human civilization built on thousands of years of effort. Since each of us arrives as a helpless infant, each person’s survival depends on others. As the person grows up, she also depends on the efforts of countless other people she does not know. These include soldiers that defend her society, the people who maintain the infrastructure, firefighters who keep fire from sweeping away the town or city, the taxpayers who pay for all this, and so on for all the many others who make human civilization possible. As such, each member of civilization owes a great debt to those who have come before and those who are here now.

If debt imposes an obligation, then each person who did not arise ex-nihilo owes a debt to those who have made and continue to make their survival possible. At the very least, the person is obligated to make contributions to continue human civilization as a repayment to these others.

One objection to this is for a person to claim that she owes no such debt because her special status obligates others to provide all this for her with nothing owed in return. The obvious challenge is for a person to prove such an exalted status.

Another objection is for a person to claim that all this is a gift that requires no repayment on the part of anyone and hence does not impose any obligation. The challenge is, of course, to prove this implausible claim.

A final option I will consider is that offered by virtue theory. Virtue theory, famously presented by thinkers like Aristotle and Confucius, holds that people should develop their virtues. These classic virtues include generosity, loyalty and other virtues that involve obligations and duties to others. Confucius explicitly argued in favor of duties and obligations as being key components of virtues. While not a philosopher, the Hero Himmel from Frieren seems best characterized as following virtue ethics. He acts from the virtues of compassion, empathy, and respect. Very much in line with Aristotle, Himmel strove to improve himself and endeavored to act in the right way, towards the right people and to the right degree. From a philosophical perspective, one of the most interesting aspects of Himmel’s ethics is that he always asked for a reward. While this might strike some as selfish (albeit standard adventurer practice), Himmel explains that “if you accept a reward from someone, they will not need to owe you. We are the hero party.” By this practice Himmel acts on his obligations to others by always helping them even with small things while also allowing them to act on an obligation to his party. Although the payment is small, it allows the person helped to discharge the burden of debt and to show that they were not helpless recipients of charity.

In terms of why a person should have such virtues and accept such obligations, the standard answer is that being virtuous will make a person happy through excellence. Also, it’s what Himmel the Hero would have done.

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Years ago, one-time `presidential candidate Mitt Romney was criticized for saying corporations are people. The guy who beat him, Obama, called corporation that used inversion unpatriotic. One might argue that criticizing corporations for being unpatriotic is to accept that they are people.

In the United States, corporations are legally persons—and the Supreme Court is devoted to granting them all the advantageous and convenient rights of actual people. The court, because it is not constrained by logic, ignores that it is illegal to own persons in the United States. I have argued elsewhere that corporations are not people and should not have that legal status—so I will not repeat those arguments here. However, I will address the issue of whether a corporation can be called unpatriotic without being committed corporate personhood.

On the side of corporate personhood, it could be argued that being unpatriotic (or patriotic) requires the intentional and emotional mental states that only a person could possess. As such, if a corporation is unpatriotic, then it is a person.

This sort of language argument has been used by philosophers such as Socrates and John Locke. In arguing for universals, Socrates (or Plato) would proceed from how one talks to accept an ontological commitment. In discussing personal identity, Locke took the fact that people use expressions such as a person not being themselves as evidence that someone in a normal state of mind can be a different person from someone in an abnormal state: “human laws not punishing the mad man for the sober man’s actions, nor the sober man for what the mad man did, thereby making them two persons: which is somewhat explained by our way of speaking in English, when we say such an one is not himself, or is beside himself; in which phrases it is insinuated, as if those who now, or at least first used them, thought that self was changed, the selfsame person was no longer in that man….”

One counter is that when someone refers to a corporation as being unpatriotic (or patriotic), they need not commit to the corporation itself being a person. Rather, the person can be taken as using a shorthand expression in place of asserting that the people who decide to implement corporate policy and make it happen are acting in what is seen as an unpatriotic way. To use an analogy, if someone claims a sports team is enthusiastic, the she is not committed to the team being a person—an entity over and above the players, coaches, etc. Rather, she is just using conversational shorthand to refer to the members of the team.  If such conversational shorthand expressed a commitment to personhood, then people would be routinely expressing commitments to a vast number of entities—thus dramatically swelling the ontology of persons. This seems both odd and unnecessary. Given the injunction of Occam’s razor, due care should be used when moving from how people speak to an ontological commitment. In the case of corporations and other groups, it would seem to suffice to attribute the mental states to the people that make them up rather than adding another entity to the matter. As such, the appeal to language argument for corporate personhood fails.

Thus, someone can claim that a corporation is unpatriotic (or patriotic) without being committed to corporate personhood. Just like a person can talk about team spirit without being committed to team personhood.

 

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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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