Category: Ethics

An obvious consequence of technological advance is the automation of certain jobs. In the past, these jobs tended to be mechanical and repetitive: the sort of tasks that could be reduced to basic rules. A good example of this is the replacement of automobile assembly line jobs with robots. Not surprisingly, it has been claimed that certain jobs will always require humans because these jobs simply cannot be automated. Also not surprisingly, the number of jobs that “simply cannot be automated” shrinks with each advance in technology.

Whether or not there are jobs that simply cannot be automated depend on the limits of technology. But these limits keep expanding and past predictions can turn out to be wrong.  For example, the early attempts to create software that would grade college level papers were not very good. But as this is being written, my university sees using AI in this role (with due caution and supervision) as a good idea. Cynical professors suspect the goal is to replace faculty with AI.

One day, perhaps, the pinnacle of automation will be reached: a single financial computer that runs an entire virtual economy within itself and is the richest being on the planet. But that is the stuff of science fiction, at least for now.

Whether or not a job can be automated also depends on what is considered acceptable performance in the job. In some cases, a machine might not do the job as well as a human or it might do the job in a different way that is less desirable. However, there could be reasonable grounds for accepting a lesser quality or difference. For example, machine made items usually lack the individuality of human crafted items, but the gain in lowered costs and increased productivity is seen as well worth it by most people. Going back to teaching, AI might be inferior to a good human teacher, but the economy, efficiency and consistency of the AI could make it worth using from an economic standpoint. One could even make the argument that such AI educators would make education more available to people.

There might, however, be cases in which a machine could do certain aspects of the job adequately yet still be rejected because it does not think and feel as a human does. Areas in which this is a matter of concern include those of caregiving and companionship.

As discussed in an earlier essay, advances in robotics and software will make caregiving and companion robots viable soon (and some would argue that this is already the case). While there are the obvious technical concerns regarding job performance (will the robot be able to handle a medical emergency, will the robot be able to comfort a crying child, and so on), there is also the more abstract concern about whether or not such machines need to be able to think and feel like a human or merely be able to perform their tasks.

An argument against having machine caregivers and companions is one I considered in the previous essay, namely a moral argument that people deserve people. For example, an elderly person deserves a real person to care for her and understand her stories. As another example, a child deserves someone who really loves her. There is clearly nothing wrong with wanting caregivers and companions to really feel and care. However, there is the question of whether this is necessary for these jobs.

One way to look at it is to compare the current paid human professionals who perform caregiving and companion tasks. These would include people working in elder care facilities, nannies, escorts, baby-sitters, and so on. Ideally, of course, people would like to think that the person caring for their aged mother or their child really does care for the mother or child. Perhaps people who hire escorts would also like to think that the escort is not entirely in it for the money but has real feelings for them.

On the one hand, it could be argued that caregivers and companions who do really care and feel genuine emotional attachments do a better job and that this connection is something that people deserve. On the other hand, what is expected of paid professionals is that they complete their tasks: making sure that mom gets her meds on time, that junior is in bed on time, and that the “adult tasks” are properly “performed.” Like an actor that can perform a role without feeling the emotions portrayed, a professional could do the job without caring about the people they are serving. That is, a caregiver need not actually care as they just need to perform their tasks.

While it could be argued that a lack of feeling would show in their performance, this need not be the case. A professional merely needs to be committed to doing the job well. That is, one needs to only care about the tasks, regardless of what one feels about the person. A person could also care a great deal about who she is caring for yet be awful at the job.

If machines cannot care, this would not seem to disqualify them from caregiving (or being escorts). As with a human caregiver (or escort), it is the performance of the tasks that matters, not the emotions of the caregiver. This nicely matches the actor analogy: acting awards are given for the outward performance, not the inward emotional states. And, as many have argued since Plato’s Ion, an actor need not feel any of the emotions they are performing, they just need to create a believable appearance that they are feeling.

As such, an inability to care would not be a disqualification for a caregiving (or escort) job whether it is a robot or human. Provided that the human or machine could perform the observable tasks, his, her or its internal life (or lack thereof) is irrelevant.

In my previous essay I sketched my view that self-defense is consistent with my faith, although the defense of self should prioritize protecting the integrity of the soul over the life of the body. A reasonable criticism of my view is that it seems inherently selfish: even though my primary concern is with acting righteously, this appears to be driven by a desire to protect my soul. Any concern about others, one might argue, derives from my worry that harming them might harm me. A critic could note that although I make a show of reconciling my faith with self-defense, I am merely doing what I have sometimes accused others of doing: painting over my selfishness and fear with a thin layer of theology. That, I must concede, is a fair point and I must further develop my philosophy of violence to address this. While it might seem odd, my philosophy of violence is built on love.

Being a philosopher, it is not surprising that I have been influenced by St. Augustine. While I differ with him on many points, I do agree that God is love. As it says in 1 John 4:8, “Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.” Because God is love, one must infer, He commands us to love each other. It would seem inconsistent for Him not to command this, and Leviticus 19:18 states, “Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the Lord.” I have, as one might imagine, heard arguments that this command is limited to one’s own people and thus allows someone to hate those who are not their people and bear a grudge against them. Those who make such arguments contend that “their people” is narrowly defined, often by such factors as race and nationality. I have heard this specifically used to justify using cruelty and violence against migrants in the United States. However, God is clear in His view, for He tells us (Leviticus 19:34) that, “The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt. I am the LORD your God.” Not surprisingly, for God we are all our people and to act in good faith we must love our neighbor, no matter where they come from.  Jesus is also clear that we should love each other. John 13:34 states, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” And Matthew 22:39 states, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

Jesus goes beyond merely commanding that we love our neighbors, he also famously asserts that we should love our enemies, saying in Matthew 5:43–44 that, “Ye have heard that it hath been said, thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.” He even addresses how we should respond to an attack, and in Matthew 5:38-39 we see that, “You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.” But how do I fit all this into my philosophy of violence? As I am not a theologian or professor of religious studies specializing in Christianity, I must write as a mere theological amateur but, fortunately, also as a professional philosopher.

As noted above, I agree with Augustine that God is love. I also agree with God and Jesus that I should love my neighbor as myself and even love my enemies. While this is a nice thing to say, there is the question of how this view shapes my philosophy of violence. The easy and obvious answer is that my response to and my own acts of violence must conform with loving others as if they were myself. As others have noted over the centuries, the command does not require me to love my neighbor (or enemy) more than I love myself, just as much as I love myself. And, of course, I am commanded to love others as God and Jesus do—which requires a great deal of me.

In terms of loving my neighbor as myself in the context of self-defense, this means that I must regard them with the same love that I have for myself; my self-love cannot alone justify me using violence even in self-defense. This is because my love for them must equal my love for myself. It is tempting to think that this love would entail I could not use violence in self-defense, but a case can be made for this.

As I argued in my discussion of the soul, protecting the soul from unrighteousness is more important than protecting the body from harm. To act from love seems to require that I protect those I love from harm and if someone is attempting to do something unrighteous and thus putting their soul in danger, then I would be justified in using violence to stop them. For example, if someone is trying to murder me, then I could use violence to stop them from committing the sin of murder. Acting from love would also require me to use minimal violence against them, but I could be justified in killing them if that was the only way to prevent murder. This would also seem to extend to protecting others. If, for example, someone was trying to murder you, I could justly use violence to stop them to protect your life and their soul. For those who consider all killing equally wrong, killing to prevent killing would seem to be impermissible.

At this point, a reader might be thinking how a wicked person might exploit my view. A wicked person could, one might argue, try to justify using violence by claiming they are trying to protect souls from what they regard as sins. For example, a migrant hating racist might try to justify using violence against those protesting ICE because they are “sinning” by defying the will of our mad king. Obviously, people trying to exploit religion and morality to “justify” their wickedness is nothing new and my reply is that this is not a special flaw in my philosophy of violence.

It could also be objected that my view could be used in good faith to justify violence against people who are truly seen as committing sins to protect their souls. For example, there are those who profess to be Christians and claim they sincerely want to “save” trans people and gay people from “sin.” Such a person could argue that on my theory violence could be used to intimidate and coerce people into ceasing their “sin.” This is certainly a reasonable concern as almost any religious or moral system could be used in this manner. For example, a utilitarian who sees being transgender as harmful could make a utilitarian case for using force against trans people, or a deontologist could profess to believe in a moral rule that allows such violence.

In reply, I recognize that this is a legitimate concern and people can, in good faith, try to justify actions that even those who share their faith or moral theory would see as wrong. But I would also argue that using violence in such ways would not be acting from love, which I take as the guiding principle of my faith. This is because acting from love while using violence requires that I do the least harm to someone else and that I would be willing to endure such harm myself.  It also requires, obviously enough, acting from love. We can, obviously enough, argue what it means to act from love, just as we can argue what it would mean to act from a moral principle. We will often be wrong, but we should do the best we can while reasoning and acting in good faith. But another limiting factor is that we are supposed to not merely love our neighbors as ourselves, but also to love each other as God and Jesus love us.

For those who believe that Jesus died for our sins, loving each other as Jesus loves us would require us to love others more than we love ourselves. This love would require us to make great sacrifices for others and would limit the violence we are allowed to do to one another.  It would, most likely, forbid us from any acts of violence. This does make sense of Jesus’ command to turn the other cheek; that would require loving someone more than one loves themselves. Having and acting on such love would require incredible strength, and one might fairly argue that this expects too much of most of us. This might explain why there is the command to love our neighbor as ourselves (which is hard, but certainly within our power) and two others to love each other as God and Jesus have loved us (which would be incredibly difficult).

Returning to the “machete that wasn’t” incident, I acted as I did because I was trying to act from love. Love required that I take the risk of not using violence immediately and that I try to talk to the person. It also required me to stay with him, to protect him and others. Fear is the enemy of love, so I am fortunate to have mastery of my fear. I do understand that it is easy to be ruled by fear and anger and allow them to silence love, but there are ways to address this, and our good dead friend Aristotle has some advice about this. In the next essay, I will look at my philosophy of violence in the context of virtue theory. Stay safe.

In his book Naked Sun, Isaac Asimov creates the world of Solaria. What distinguishes this world from other human inhabited planets is that it has a strictly regulated population of 20,000 humans and 10,000 robots for each human. What is perhaps the strangest feature of this world is a reversal of what many consider a basic human need: the humans of Solaria are trained to despise in-person contact with other humans, though interaction with human-like robots is acceptable. Each human lives on a huge estate, though some live “with” a spouse. When the Solarians need to communicate, they make use of a holographic telepresence system. Interestingly, they have even developed terminology to distinguish between communicating in person (called “seeing”) and communication via telepresence (“viewing”). For some Solarians the fear of encountering another human in person is so strong that they would rather commit suicide than endure such contact. 

As this book was first serialized in 1956, long before the advent of social media and personal robots, it can be seen as prophetic. One reason science fiction writers are often seen as prophetic is that a good science fiction writer is skilled at extrapolating even from hypothetical technological and social changes. Another reason is that science fiction writers have churned out thousands of stories and some of these are bound to get something right. Such stories are then selected as examples of prophetic science fiction while stories that got things wrong are conveniently ignored. And, of course, people read science fiction and sometimes try to make it real (for good or for ill). But philosophers do love using science fiction for discussion, hence my use of The Naked Sun.

Everyone knows that smart phones allow unrelenting access to social media. One narrative is that people are, somewhat ironically, becoming increasingly isolated in the actual world as they become increasingly networked in the digital world. The defining image of this is a group of people together physically yet ignoring each other in favor of gazing at their smart phone lords and masters. As a professor, I see students engrossed by their phones. And, of course, I have seen groups of people walking or at a restaurant where no one is talking to anyone else as all eyes are on the smartphones. Since the subject of smart phones has been beaten to a digital death, I will leave this topic in favor of the focus, namely robots. However, the reader should keep in mind the social isolation created by modern social media.

While we have been employing robots for quite some time in construction, exploration and other such tasks, social robots are relatively new. Sure, “robot” toys and things like Teddy Ruxpin have been around for a while, but reasonably sophisticated social robots are relatively new. In this context, a social robot is one whose primary function is to interact with humans in a way that provides companionship. This can range from pet-like bots (like Sony’s famous robot dog) to conversational robots to (of course) sex bots.

Tech enthusiasts and the companies who want to sell social robots are, unsurprisingly, very positive about the future of these robot companions. There are even some good arguments in their favor. Robot pets provide a choice for people with allergies, those who are not responsible enough for living pets, or who live in places that do not permit organic pets (although bans on robotic pets might be a thing in the future).

Robot companions can be advantageous in cases in which a person requires constant attention and monitoring that would be expensive, burdensome or difficult for other humans to supply. Sex bots could reduce the exploitation of human sex workers and perhaps have other benefits as well. I will leave this research to others, though.

Despite the potential positive aspects of social robots, there are also negative aspects. As noted above, concerns are already being raised about the impact of technology on human interaction. It has been claimed that people are emotionally short-changing themselves and those they are physically in favor of staying connected to social media. This seems to be a taste of what Asimov imagined in The Naked Sun: people who view but no longer see one another. Given the importance of human interaction in person, it can be argued that this social change is and will be detrimental to human well-being. Human-human social interactions can be seen as like good nutrition: one is getting what one needs for healthy living. Interacting primarily through social media can be seen as consuming junk food or drugs in that it is addictive but leaves one ultimately empty and  always craving more.

It can be argued that this worry is unfounded and that social media is an adjunct to social interaction in the real world and that social interaction via like Facebook and X can be real and healthy social interactions. One might point to interactions via letters, telegraphs and telephones (voice only) to contend that interaction via technology is neither new nor unhealthy. It might also be pointed out that people used to ignore each other (especially professors) in favor of such things as newspapers.

While this counter has some appeal, social robots do seem to be relevantly different from past technology. While humans have had toys, stuffed animals and even simple mechanisms for company, these are different from social robots. After all, social robots aim to mimic animals or humans. A concern about such robot companions is that they would be to social media what heroin is to marijuana in terms of addiction and destruction.

One reason for this is that social robots would, presumably, be designed to be cooperative, pleasant and compliant, that is, good company. In contrast, humans can often be uncooperative, unpleasant and defiant. This could make robotic companions more appealing than human company. At least robots whose cost is not subsidized by advertising. Imagine a companion who pops in a discussion of life insurance or pitches a soft drink every so often.

Social robots could also be programmed to be optimally appealing to a person and presumably the owner would be able to make changes to the robot. A person could, quite literally, make a friend with the desired qualities and without any undesired qualities. In the case of sex bots, a person could purchase a Mr. or Ms. Right.

Unlike humans, social robots do not have other interests, needs, responsibilities or friends. There is no competition for the attention of a social robot (at least in general, though there might be shared bots) which makes them “better” than human companions in this way.

Social robots, though they might break down or get hacked, will not leave or betray a person. One does not have to worry that one’s personal sex bot will be unfaithful. Just turn it off and lock it down when leaving it alone.  Unlike human companions, robot companions do not impose burdens, they do not expect attention, help or money and they do not judge.

The list of advantages could go on at great length, but robotic companions would seem superior to humans in most ways. Or at least in terms of common complaints about companions.

Naturally, there might be some practical issues with the quality of companionship. Will the robot get one’s jokes, will it “know” what stories you like to hear, will it be able to converse in a pleasing way about topics you? However, these seem mostly technical problems involving software. Presumably all these could eventually be addressed, and satisfactory companions could be created. But there are still concerns.

One obvious concern is the potential psychological harm resulting from spending too much time with companion bots and not enough interacting with humans. As mentioned above, people have already expressed concern about the impact of social media and technology (one is reminded of the dire warnings about television). This, of course, rests on the assumption that the companion bots must be lacking in some important ways relative to humans. Going back to the food analogy, this assumes that robot companions are like junk food and are superficially appealing but lacking in what is needed for health. However, if robot companions could provide all that a human needs, then humans would no longer need other humans.

A second point of concern is one taken from virtue theorists. Thinkers such as Aristotle and Wollstonecraft have argued that a person needs to fulfill certain duties and act in certain ways to develop the proper virtues. While Wollstonecraft wrote about the harmful effects of inherited wealth (that having unearned wealth interferes with the development of virtue) and the harmful effects of sexism (that women are denied the opportunity to fully develop their virtues as humans), her points would seem to apply to relying on robot companions as well. These companions would make the social aspects of life too easy and deny people the challenges that are needed to develop virtues. For example, it is by dealing with the shortcomings of people that we learn such virtues as patience, generosity and self-control. Having social interactions that are too easy would be analogous to going without physical exercise or challenges and one would become emotionally weak. Worse, one would not develop the proper virtues and thus would be lacking in this area.  Even worse, people could easily become spoiled and selfish monsters, accustomed to always having their own way.

Since the virtue theorists argue that being virtuous is what makes people happy, having such “ideal” companions would lead to unhappiness. Because of this, one should carefully consider whether one wants a social robot for a “friend.”

It could be countered that social robots could be programmed to replicate the relevant human qualities needed to develop virtues. The easy counter to this is that one might as well just stick with human companions.

As a final point, if intelligent robots are created that are people in the full sense of the term, then it would be morally fine to be friends with them. After all, a robot friend who will call you on your misdeeds or stupid behavior would be as good as a human friend who would do the same thing for you.

Thanks to improvements in medicine humans are living longer and can be kept alive beyond when they would naturally die. On the plus side, longer life is generally good. On the downside, this longer lifespan and medical intervention mean that people will often need extensive care in their old age that can be a burden on caregivers. Not surprisingly, there has been an effort to solve this problem with companion robots.

While current technology is crude, it has potential and there are advantages to robot caregivers. The most obvious are that robots do not get tired, do not get depressed, do not get angry, and do not have any other responsibilities. As such, they can be 24/7/365 caregivers. This makes them superior to human caregivers who get tired, depressed, get angry and have many other responsibilities.

There are, of course, concerns about using robot caregivers, such as about their safety and effectiveness. In the case of caregiving robots that are intended to provide companionship and not just medical and housekeeping services, there are both practical and moral concerns.

There are at least two practical concerns regarding the companion aspect of such robots. The first is whether a human will accept a robot as a companion. In general, the answer seems to be that most humans will.

The second is whether the AI software will be advanced enough to read a human’s emotions and behavior to generate a proper emotional response. These responses might or might not include conversation. After all, many people find non-talking pets to be good companions. While a talking companion would, presumably, need to eventually be able to pass the Turing Test, they would also need to pass an emotion test. They would need to read and respond correctly to human emotions. Since we humans often fail this test, this allows for a broad margin of error. These practical concerns can be addressed technologically as they are a matter of software and hardware. Building a truly effective companion robot might require making them very much like living things. The comfort of companionship might be improved by such things as smell, warmth and texture. That is, to make the companion reassuring to all the senses.

While the practical problems can be solved with the right technology, there are moral concerns about the use of robot caregiver companions. One is about people handing off their moral duties to care for family members, but this is not specific to robots. After all, a person can hand off their duties to another person, and this would raise a similar issue.

As far as those specific to companion robots, there are moral concerns about the effectiveness of the care. Are robots good enough at their jobs that trusting the lives of humans to them  would be morally responsible? While that question is vitally important, a rather intriguing moral concern is that robot companions are a deceit.

Roughly put, the idea is that while a companion robot can simulate human emotions via cleverly written algorithms to respond to what its “emotion recognition software” detects, these response are not genuine. While a robot companion might say the right things at the right times, it does not feel and does not care. It merely engages in mechanical behavior in accord with its software. As such, a companion robot is a deceit, and such a deceit seems morally wrong.

One obvious response is that even if people know the robot does not really experience emotions, they can still gain value from its “fake” companionship. People often find stuffed animals emotionally reassuring even though they know they are just fabric stuffed with fluff. What matters, it could be argued, is the psychological effect. If someone feels better with a robotic companion around, then that is morally fine. Another obvious analogy is the placebo effect: medicine need not be real to be effective.

It might be objected that there is still an important moral concern here: a robot, however well it fakes being a companion, does not suffice to provide the companionship a person is morally entitled to. Roughly put, people deserve people, even when a robot would behave in ways indistinguishable from a human.

One way to reply to this is to consider what it is about people that people deserve. One reasonable approach is to build on the idea that people have the capacity to feel the emotions they display and that they understand. In philosophical terms, humans have (or are) minds and the robots in question do not. They merely create the illusion of having a mind.

Philosophers (and psychologists) have long dealt with the problem of other minds. The problem is an epistemic one: how does one know if another being has a mind (thoughts, feelings, beliefs and such)? Some thinkers (which is surely the wrong term given their view) claimed that there is no mind, just observable behavior. Very roughly put, being in pain is not a mental state, but a matter of expressed behavior (pain behavior).

The usual “solution” to the problem is to embrace what seems obvious: I think other people have minds by an argument from analogy. I am aware of my own mental states and behavior, and I engage in analogical reasoning to infer that those who act as I do have similar mental states. For example, I know how I react when I am in pain, so when I see similar behavior in others, I infer that they are also in pain.

I cannot, unlike some politicians, feel the pain of others. I can merely make an inference from their observed behavior. Because of this, there is the problem of deception: a person can engage in various forms of deceit. For example, a person can fake being in pain or make a claim about being in love that is untrue. Piercing these deceptions can sometimes be difficult since humans can be skilled deceivers. However, it is still (generally) believed that even a deceitful human is still thinking and feeling, albeit not in the way they want people to believe they are thinking and feeling.

In contrast, a companion robot is not thinking or feeling what it purports to be displayed by its behavior, because it does not think or feel. Or so it is believed. A reason that we think robots do not think or feel is because we can examine the robot and not see any emotions or thought in there. The robot, however complicated, is just a material machine and taken as incapable of thought or feeling.

Long before robots, there were thinkers who claimed that we humans  are purely material beings and that a suitable understanding of our mechanical workings would reveal that emotions and thoughts are mechanical states of the nervous system. As science progressed, the explanations of the mechanisms became more complex, but the basic idea remained. Put in modern terms, the idea is that eventually we will be able to see the “code” that composes our thoughts and emotions and understand the hardware it “runs” on.  

Should this goal be achieved, it would seem that humans and suitably complex robots would be on par as both would engage in complex behavior because of their hardware and software. As such, there would be no grounds for claiming that such a robot is engaged in deceit or that humans are genuine. The difference would merely be that humans are organic machines and robots are not.

It can, and has, been argued that there is more to a human person than the material body, that there is a mind that cannot be instantiated in a mere machine. The challenge is a very old one: proving that there is such a thing as the mind. If this can be established and it can be shown that robots cannot have such a mind, then robot companions would always be a deceit.

However, they might still be a useful deceit.  Going back to the placebo analogy, it might not matter whether the robot really thinks or feels. It might suffice that the person thinks it does, and this will yield all the benefits of having a human companion.

In June 2015 the United States Supreme Court ruled in favor of the legality of same-sex marriage. Many states had already legalized it and most Americans thought it should be legal. As such, the ruling was consistent both with the constitution and with the democratic ideal of majority rule. There are, of course, those who objected to the ruling and are even now working to undo it.

Some claim that the court acted contrary to democratic rule by engaging in judicial activism. Not surprisingly, some of those who made this claim had no complaints when the court ruled in ways they liked, despite the general principles being the same (that is, the court ruling in ways contrary to what voters had decided).  I do see the appeal of principled and consistent arguments against the Supreme Court engaging in activism and overruling what the voters have decided. But I rarely see such arguments as most people follow the principle that they like what they like. However, my concern here is with another avenue of dissent against the decision, namely that this ruling infringes on religious liberty.

The argument from religious liberty is an interesting one. On intriguing aspect is that the argument is made in terms of religious liberty rather than the older tactic of openly attacking gay people for alleged moral wickedness. This change of tactic seems to show a recognition that most Americans accept or at least tolerate their fellow gay Americans. As such, this tactic acknowledges a changed world. This change also represents clever rhetoric: the intent is not to deny some people their rights, but to protect religious liberty. Protecting liberty sells better than denying rights. While protecting liberty is commendable, the obvious question is whether the legalization of same-sex marriage infringes on religious liberty.

In general, there are two ways to infringe on liberty. The first is by forbiddance. That is, preventing a person from exercising their freedom. For example, the liberty of free expression can be infringed by preventing a person from freely expressing their ideas. For example, the state might impose penalties for people who criticize the leader.

The second is by force. This is compelling for people to act against their will. For example, having a law that requires people to dress in a certain way when they do not wish to do so. As another example, having a law that would compel people to praise the great leader. Since some people consider entitlements to fall under liberties, another way a person could have liberty infringed upon is to be denied her entitlements. For example, the liberty of education in the United States entitles children to a public education. Hence, taking away public education would be an imposition on that right.

It is important to note that not all cases of forbidding or forcing are violations of liberties. This is because there are legitimate grounds for limiting liberties, such as the principle of harm. For example, it is not a violation of a person’s liberty to prevent him from texting death threats to his ex-wife. As another example, it is not a violation of a person’s liberty to require her to have a license to drive a car.

Given this discussion, for the legalization of same-sex marriage to impose on religious liberty would require that it wrongfully forbids religious people from engaging in religious activities, wrongfully forces religious people to engage in behavior contrary to their religion or wrongfully denies religious people entitlements connected to their religion.

The third one is the easiest and quickest to address: there does not seem to be any way that the legalization of same-sex marriage denies religious people entitlements connected to their religion. While I might not have considered all the possibilities, I will move on to the first two.

On the face of it, the legalization of same-sex marriage does not seem to wrongfully forbid religious people from engaging in religious activities. To give some obvious examples, it does not forbid people from praying, attending religious services or saying religious things.

While some people have presented slippery slope “arguments” that this legalization will lead to such forbiddances, there is nothing in the ruling that indicates this or even mentions anything remotely like it. As with all such arguments, the burden of proof rests on those who claim that there will be this inevitable or likely slide. While inter-faith and inter-racial marriage are different matters, allowing these to occur was also supposed to lead to terrible things. None of these happened, which leads one to suspect that the doomsayers will be proven wrong yet again. As this is being written in 2025, none of the dire predictions came true. But perhaps we just need to wait another decade or ten.

But, of course, if a rational case can be made linking the legalization of same-sex marriage to real violations of religious liberty, then it would be reasonable to be worried. However, the linkage is based on psychological fear rather than logical support.

It also seems that the legalization of same-sex marriage does not force religious people to wrongfully engage in behavior contrary to their religion. While it is legal for same-sex couples to marry, this does not compel people to become gay and then gay-marry someone else who is (now) gay. Religious people are not compelled to like, approve of or even feel tolerant of same-sex marriage. They are free to dislike, disapprove, and condemn it. They are free to try to amend the Constitution to forbid same-sex marriage.

It might be argued that religious people are compelled to allow other people to engage in behavior that is against their professed religious beliefs, and this is a violation of religious freedom. An easy and obvious reply is that allowing other people to engage in behavior that is against one’s religion is not a violation of one’s religious liberty. This is because religious liberty is not supposed to be the liberty to impose one’s religion on others, but the liberty to practice one’s religion.

For example, the fact that I am at liberty to eat pork and lobster is not a violation of the religious liberty of Jews and Muslims. The fact that some women can go out in public with their faces exposed is not a violation of the religious liberty of some Muslims. The fact that people can have religions other than Christianity is not a violation of the religious liberty of Christians. As such, the fact that same-sex couples can legally marry does not violate the religious liberty of anyone.

It might be objected that it will eventually violate the religious liberty of some people. Some argued that religious institutions will be compelled to perform same-sex weddings (as they might be compelled to perform inter-racial or inter-faith marriages). This, I would agree, would be a violation of their religious liberty and liberty of conscience. Private, non-commercial organizations have every right to discriminate and exclude as that is part of their right of freedom of non-association. Fortunately, the legalization of same-sex marriage does not compel such organizations to perform these marriages. If it did, I would certainly oppose that violation of religious liberty.

It might also be objected that people in government positions would be required to issue same-sex marriage licenses, perform the legal act of marrying a same-sex couple, or recognize the marriage of a same-sex couple. People at the IRS would even be compelled to process the tax forms of same-sex couples.

The conflict between conscience and authority is nothing new and philosophers have long addressed this matter. Thoreau, for example, argued that people should follow their conscience and disobey what they regard as unjust laws.

This does have considerable appeal, and I agree that morality trumps law in terms of what a person should do. I should do what is right, even if the law requires that I do evil. This view is a necessary condition for accepting that laws can be unjust or immoral, which I accept. Because of this, I agree that a person whose conscience forbids her from accepting same-sex marriage has the moral right to refuse to follow the law. That said, the person should resign from her post in protest rather than simply refusing to follow the law. As an official of the state, the person has an obligation to perform their job and must choose between keeping that job and following their conscience. That said, I am certainly open to moral arguments for people refusing to follow the law while also refusing to quit. One could, for example, advance a utilitarian argument for such  action. Naturally, a person also has the right to try to change what they think is an immoral law.

I have the same view about people who see interracial marriage as immoral: they should follow the dictates of their conscience and not take a job that would require them to, for example, issue marriage licenses. However, their right to their liberty of conscience does not override the rights of other citizens to marry. That is, their liberty does not morally warrant denying the liberty of others.

It could be argued that same-sex marriage should be opposed because it is objectively morally wrong and this would apply to officials. This line of reason has appeal because what is objectively wrong should be opposed, even if it is the law. For example, when slavery was legal in the United States it should have been opposed by everyone, even officials.  But, arguing against same-sex marriage on moral grounds is a different from arguing against it on the grounds that it allegedly violates religious liberty.

It could be argued that the legalization of same-sex marriage violates the religious liberty of people in businesses such as baking wedding cakes, planning weddings, photographing weddings and selling wedding flowers.

The legalization of same-sex marriage does not, by itself, forbid businesses from refusing to do business involving a same-sex marriage. Legal protection against that sort of discrimination is another, albeit related, matter. This sort of discrimination has also been defended on the grounds of freedom of expression, which I have addressed at length in other essays.

In regard to religious liberty, a business owner certainly has the right to not sell certain products or provide certain services that go against her religion. For example, a Jewish restaurant owner has the liberty to not serve pork. A devout Christian who owns a bookstore has the liberty to not stock the scriptures of other faiths or books praising same-sex marriage. An atheist t-shirt seller has the liberty to not stock any shirts displaying religious symbols. These are all matters of religious liberty.

I would also argue that religious liberty allows business owners to refuse to create certain products or perform certain services. For example, a Muslim free-lance cartoonist has the right to refuse to draw cartoons of Muhammad. As another example, an atheist baker has the moral right to refuse to create a cake with a cross and quotes from scripture.

That said, religious liberty does not seem to grant a business owner the right to discriminate based on her religion. For example, a Muslim who owns a car dealership has no right to refuse to sell cars to women (or women who refuse to fully cover themselves). As another example, a militant homosexual who owns a bakery has no right to refuse to sell cakes to straight people.

Thus, the legalization of same-sex marriage does not violate religious liberty, at least from a moral perspective.

The United States has libertarian and anarchist threads, which is appropriate for a nation that espouses individual liberty and expresses distrust of the state. While there are many versions of libertarianism ranging across the political spectrum, I will focus on the key idea that the government should impose minimal limits on individual liberty and that there should be little, if any, state regulation of business. These principles were laid out clearly by American anarchist Henry David Thoreau in his claims that the best government governs least (or not at all) and that government only advances business by getting out of its way.

I must admit that I find this libertarian-anarchist approach appealing. Like many politically minded young folks, I experimented with a variety of political theories in college. I found Marxism unappealing because, as a metaphysical dualist, I must reject materialism. Also, I was aware of the brutally oppressive and murderous nature of many “Marxist” states, and they were in direct opposition to both my ethics and my view of liberty. Fascism was certainly right out, for reasons that are obvious to anyone who is not evil.

Since, like many young folks, I thought I knew everything and did not want anyone to tell me what to do, I picked anarchism as my theory of choice. Since I am morally opposed to murdering people, even for a just cause, I sided with the non-murderous anarchists such as Thoreau. I eventually outgrew anarchism, but I still have many fond memories of my halcyon days of naïve political views. As such, I do really like libertarian-anarchism and really wanted it to be viable. But I liking something does not entail that it is viable or a good idea.

Put in general terms, a libertarian system would have a minimal state with extremely limited government impositions on personal liberty. The same minimalism would also extend to the realm of business; they would operate with little or no state control. Since such a system seems to maximize liberty and freedom, they can seem initially very appealing. After all, freedom and liberty are good and more of a good thing is better than less. Except when it is not.

It might be wondered how more liberty and freedom is not always better than less. Two stock answers are both appealing and plausible. One was laid out by Thomas Hobbes. In discussing the state of nature (which is a form of anarchism as there is no state) he notes that total liberty (the right to everything) amounts to no right at all. This is because everyone is free to do anything, and everyone has the right to claim (and take) anything. This leads to his infamous war of all against all, making life “nasty, brutish and short.” Like too much oxygen, too much liberty can be fatal. Hobbes’ proposed solution is the social contract and the sovereign.

A second answer was present by J.S. Mill. In his discussion of liberty, he argued that liberty requires limitations on liberty. While this might seem like a paradox or a slogan from Big Brother, Mill is quite right in a straightforward way. For example, your right to free expression requires limiting my right to silence you. As another example, your right to life requires limits on my right to kill. As such, liberty does require restrictions on liberty. Mill does not limit the limiting of liberty to the state as society can impose such limits as well.

Given the plausibility of the arguments of Hobbes and Mill, it seems reasonable to accept that there must be limits on liberty for there to be liberty. Libertarians, who usually fall short of being true anarchists, do accept this. However, they do want the broadest possible liberties and the least possible restrictions on business. At least for themselves.

In theory, this would appear to show that the theory provides the basis for a viable political system. After all, if libertarianism is the view that the state should impose the minimal restrictions needed to have a viable society, then it would be (by definition) a viable system. However, there is the matter of libertarianism in practice and the question of what counts as a viable political system.

Looked at in a minimal sense, a viable political system would seem to be one that can maintain its borders and internal order. Meeting these two minimal objectives seem possible for a libertarian state, at least for a while. That said, the standards for a viable state might be taken to be higher, such as the state being able to (as per Locke) protect rights and provide for the good of the people. It can (and has) been argued that such a state would need to be more robust than the libertarian state. It can also be argued that a true Libertarian state would either devolve into chaos or be forced into abandoning libertarianism.

In any case, the viability of libertarian state would seem to depend on two main factors. The first is the ethics of the individuals composing the state. The second is the relative power of the individuals. This is because the state is supposed to be minimal, so limits on behavior must be imposed largely by other factors.

In regards to ethics, good people can often be relied on to self-regulate their behavior to the degree they are moral and have self-control. To the degree that the population is moral the state does not need to impose limitations on behavior, since the citizens will generally not behave in ways that require imposing the compulsive power of the state. As such, liberty would seem to require a degree of morality on the part of the citizens that is inversely proportional to the limitations imposed by the state. Put roughly, good people do not need to be coerced by the state into being good. As such, a libertarian state can be viable to the degree that people are morally good. While some thinkers (such as Mencius) have faith in the basic decency of people, many (such as Hobbes) regard humans as lacking in what others would call goodness. Hence, the usual arguments about how the moral failings of humans require the existence of the coercive state.

In regards to the second factor, having liberty without an external coercive force maintaining it would require that the citizens be comparable in political, social and economic power. If some people have greater power, they can easily use it to impose on their fellow citizens. While the freedom to act with few (or no) limits is wonderful for those with greater power, it is not good for those who have less power. In such a system, the powerful are free to do as they will, while the weaker people are denied their liberties. While such a system might be libertarian in name, freedom and liberty would belong to the powerful and the weaker would be denied. That is, it would be despotism or tyranny. Which is, one suspects, what some self-proclaimed libertarians want.

 If people are comparable in power or can form social, political and economic groups that are comparable in power, then liberty for all would be possible as individuals and groups would be able to resist the encroachments of others. Unions, for example, could be formed to offset the power of corporations. Not surprisingly, stable societies build such balances of power to avoid the slide into despotism and then to chaos. Stable societies also have governments that endeavor to protect the liberties of everyone by placing limits on how much people can inflict their liberties on others. As noted above, people can also be restrained by their ethics. If people and groups varied in power, yet abided by the limits of ethical behavior, then things could still go well for even the weak.

Interestingly, a balance of power might be disastrous. Hobbes argued that it is because people are equal in power that the state of nature is a state of war. This rests on his view that people are hedonistic egoists which means that they are selfish and do not care about other people.

Obviously enough, in the actual world people and groups vary greatly in power. Not surprisingly, many advocates of libertarianism enjoy considerable political and economic power. They would do very well in a system that removed many limitations on behavior since they would be freer to do as they wished and the weaker people and groups would be unable to stop them.

At this point, one might insist on a third factor that is beloved by the Adam Smith crowd: rational self-interest. The usual claim is that people would limit their behavior because of the consequences arising from their actions. For example, a business that served contaminated meat would soon find itself out of business because the survivors would stop buying the meat and spread the word. As another example, an employer who used his power to compel his workers to work long hours in dangerous conditions for low pay would find that no one would be willing to work for him and would be forced to improve things to retain workers. As a third example, people would not commit misdeeds because they would be condemned or punished by vigilante justice. The invisible hand would sort things out, even if people are not good and even if there is a great disparity in power.

The easy and obvious reply is that history shows that this never works as claimed. If there is a disparity in power, that power will be used to prevent negative consequences. For example, those who have economic power can use that power to coerce people into working for low pay and can also use that power to try to keep them from organizing to create a power that can resist this economic power. This is why, obviously enough, rich business owners usually oppose unions.

Interestingly, most people get that rational self-interest does not suffice to keep people from acting badly in the case of crimes such as murder, theft, extortion, assault and rape.

However, there is the view that rational self-interest will somehow work to keep people from acting badly in other areas. This, as Hobbes would say, arises from an insufficient understanding of humans. Or is a deceit on the part of people who have the power to do wrong and get away with it.

While I did like the idea of libertarianism, a viable libertarian society would require people who are predominantly ethical (and thus self-regulating) or a careful balance of power. Or, alternatively, a world in which people are rational and act from self-interest in ways that would maintain social order. This is clearly not our world, so libertarianism is not a viable system as I have defined it. To be fair and balanced, there are other definitions of viable systems and libertarianism could be viable under some of them.

As mentioned in the first essay of this series, what set me on the path of considering my philosophy of violence was the “machete that wasn’t” episode. When the person charged at me in the woods, my mind saw a machete. The metal blade was clear and distinct, though it turned out to be just a stick.

Initially, I was literally afraid for my life: I felt the fear that I was about to be hacked by a machete. Though armed, my response was to disengage and rely on my speed as a runner. When he caught me, I turned to face him and used my best weapon: I spoke to him and the situation was resolved peacefully. As this is about my faith and violence, if I had engaged the person with violence, a case could be made that it would have an acceptable action. As I sincerely believed he had a machete and he was, in fact, charging me, I would seem to have been justified in self-defense.  Even when it turned out that it was just a large stick, self-defense would also seem to have been warranted. Yet, I decided to talk rather than fight. One reason for this takes us back to my grad school days.

As a graduate student at The Ohio State University, I read far too much Descartes and became a Cartesian dualist. On this view, I am an immaterial mind that has a material body. While being an immaterial mind does not entail that there must be an afterlife in which one is subject to the consequences of sins and good deeds, it does provide a metaphysical foundation for this. As a philosopher, I am aware of the arguments against Cartesian dualism and against the possibility of existing after the death of the body. I teach some of these in my classes, such as David Hume’s view of the immortality of the soul and the classic mind-body problem. But if one considers the problem of the external world (the challenge of proving that the experienced world is really real for real), believing that I am a ghostly mind seems reasonable.  Or at least no more absurd than believing in other minds and an external reality. So, although I am probably wrong, I do believe that I am a Cartesian mind connected, in an unexplained manner, to a body. And, during that incident, it seemed that my body was in danger. As might be guessed, Cartesian dualism fits in with my faith and through that lens I would say I am a soul.

On the face of it, what justifies violence in self defense is that one is protecting their life against a wrongful threat. If I were a metaphysical materialist and believed that I am a purely physical entity, then it would make good sense to use force to protect what would presumably be my most valuable possession, which is my biological life. After all, death would be the end of me. One could even do a bit of a word game here and note that if I am my body, it is my self and self-defense would be protecting my body.

But if I am an immaterial mind that I think can exist after the death of my body, then harm to my body would not be my greatest concern. Rather, harm to my mind (soul) would be of far greater worry and I should thus prioritize protecting my soul over protecting my body. To go back to the word game, my self would be an immaterial mind that is beyond the reach of such things as machetes.

Socrates, in the Apology, said that “The difficulty, my friends, is not in avoiding death, but in avoiding unrighteousness; for that runs faster than death.” To steal a bit from his sentiment towards death and unrighteousness, while I might postpone death, it is inevitable. But I have some control over my actions and can decide whether to act in an unrighteous manner. And acting in an unrighteous manner to preserve my life at the expense of my soul would be a mistake, as it is said in Mark 8:36:”For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” Thus, my faith (and my morality) requires that I carefully consider whether any act of self-defense is righteous or not because I believe that it is better to die than become wicked. This is thus one of the reasons why I put my body at risk rather than immediately engaging in what would probably be justified self-defense. While I do not have the right to impose my faith on others, those who profess to be Christians should take a similar approach to violence and should thus be reluctant to use violence against others. They should be more afraid of endangering their soul with evil than being afraid for their lives. As such, a Christian should engage in self-defense with great caution and should certainly not lie about killing in self-defense when they committed murder. It is, I think, completely fair to ask someone who publicly professes faith to publicly reconcile their professed faith with their acts of violence. For example, the right angelized ICE agent Ross as a Christian after he killed Renee Good and hence it is fair to ask them about faith and killing. As noted in another essay, professing to be a Christian ironically makes the killing even worse.

I also put myself at risk because of another aspect of my faith, which is that God is love and commands us to love. That is the subject of the next essay in the series.

While, as a professor, talking is my business, I am generally reluctant to talk about my faith. One reason for this is a matter of professionalism. As a professor at a state university, it would be both unprofessional and improper to preach rather than teach. While some might take the view that a believer should attempt to always spread their belief, consider if you hired a plumber to fix your sink and she spent the entire time preaching rather than plumbing. If my students seek religion, they can easily find it in the many places of worship in Tallahassee. If I wished to be a religious teacher, I could seek employment at a religious institution. If I wanted to preach rather than teach, I could join the ministry.

Another reason for my reluctance is that our ruling class has taken Aristotle’s advice to heart. “A tyrant must put on the appearance of uncommon devotion to religion. Subjects are less apprehensive of illegal treatment from a ruler whom they consider god-fearing and pious. On the other hand, they do less easily move against him, believing that he has the gods on his side.” Also, in the United States, when a person loudly professes to be Christian, they are all too often signaling that they have spray painted their cruelty, greed, and bigotry with a thin coat of theology. When I do not have time to explain what I believe, I prefer to remain silent, lest someone think that I am signaling that I am a wicked person trying to mask my sins with false faith. This, I admit, makes me feel some shame.

I am also reluctant to impose on people as a matter of humility. Billions of humans have and have had deeply held religious beliefs. But each person’s beliefs differ from those of everyone else and even themselves over time. It would be the height of prideful arrogance to think that I, out of the billions, have gotten things right and can thus impose my beliefs on others. But I obviously think there is value in sharing what I believe in this context as I have no power over you and you can stop reading at any time. I now turn to the main topic, that of my faith and violence.

While I am working through a general theory of violence, the recent killings of Renee Good and Alex Petti by ICE agents of the Trump regime have focused my thoughts on the claim that we (or perhaps only ICE agents) are permitted to use violence when we are afraid for our lives. This can also be cast as the general topic of self-defense. A good place to begin is the commandment against killing.

When I was a young atheist, I delighted in pointing out the apparent contradiction in the bible between the commandment against killing and the fact that the text explicitly allows for or even calls for killing. But, as my colleagues in religion point out, the commandment is against wrongful killing. While the ethics of killing can and should be debated, this entails that certain types of killing are acceptable even if one accepts this commandment. As my religion colleagues tell me, the bible does allow killing in self-defense. But this leads to the question of what counts as self-defense and the additional question about when one should kill rather than avoid doing so. My view, as I will argue in a future essay, is that killing should be avoided and that a believer should accept considerable risk to avoid killing another even in self-defense. But, to provide a concrete example, I will examine the killing of Renee Good. Using the religious context is especially relevant since ICE agent Jonathan Ross has been angelized by the right as a conservative Christian. In contrast, they have tried to demonize Renee Good.

According to the Trump regime, Ross was acting in self defense when he killed Renee Good. But is this claim justified? The gist of the argument in favor of this claim is that Ross was in front of Renee Good’s vehicle and she drove towards him, thus making him afraid for his life. There seem to be two possibilities as to why he was in front of her vehicle and thus allegedly in danger. The first is that he unintentionally acted in violation of his training  and good sense by placing himself in front of a moving vehicle. If this is the case, then his incompetence or bad judgment placed him in a situation in which he was allegedly afraid for his life. Even if he believed that Renee Good was trying to run him over, his actions placed him in that alleged danger, and this would undercut a self-defense justification. I must stress that I am not engaged in “victim blaming” of the sort that blames a woman for being assaulted because of how she was dressed or where she went. Rather, Ross should have acted in accord with his training and good sense because he should know that his failure could result in the death of another. If so, he would have some guilt in causing a wrongful death. As far as the legal issue goes, that is up to the courts.

The other possibility is that Ross intentionally moved in front of the vehicle with the intention of placing himself in potential danger so he could claim he was “afraid for his life” and thus use violence in “self-defense.” That is, Ross was trying to set up Renee Good so he could shoot her. In this case, he would be guilty of causing a wrongful death, although one could argue that God might see the sin as somewhat mitigated since one could argue that there was some possible mote of self defense in all the blood that was spilled.

As might be gathered, my view is that killing someone because one’s incompetence or malign intent created a “self-defense” situation is not warranted. But what about the situation that inspired my consideration of my philosophy of violence? That question will be the focus of my next essay in this series and will require a dive into my metaphysics and view of love and faith. Stay safe.

There is an old legend that King Midas for a long time hunted the wise Silenus, the companion of Dionysus, in the forests, without catching him. When Silenus finally fell into the king’s hands, the king asked what was the best thing of all for men, the very finest. The daemon remained silent, motionless and inflexible, until, compelled by the king, he finally broke out into shrill laughter and said these words, “Suffering creature, born for a day, child of accident and toil, why are you forcing me to say what would give you the greatest pleasure not to hear? The very best thing for you is totally unreachable: not to have been born, not to exist, to be nothing. The second-best thing for you, however, is this — to die soon.”

 

-Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy

 

A classic metaphysical question is “why is there something rather than nothing?” An interesting value question is “is it better to be nothing rather than something?” That is, is it better “not to have been born, not to exist, to be nothing?”

Addressing this question requires determining the measure of value that should be used. One standard approach is to use the crude currencies of pleasure and pain. A somewhat more refined approach is to calculate in terms of happiness and unhappiness. Or one could simply go generic and use vague categories of positive value and negative value.

What also must be determined is the best moral theory to use. For the individual, a sensible theory would be ethical egoism, that what a person should do is what maximizes the positive value for them. On this view, it would be better if the person did not exist if their existence would generate more negative than positive value for them. It would be better if the person existed if their existence would generate more positive than negative value for them.

To make an argument in favor of never existing being better than existing, one likely approach is to make use of the problem of evil, such as the version developed by David Hume. When discussing this matter, Hume contends that everyone believes life is miserable and presents an impressive catalog of pains and evils. While he considers that pain is less frequent than pleasure, he notes that even if this is true, pain “is infinitely more violent and durable.” As such, Hume makes a strong case that the negative value of existence outweighs its positive value.

If it is true that the negative value outweighs the positive value, and better is measured in terms of maximizing value, then it would thus seem to be better to have never existed. After all, existence will result (if Hume is right) in more pain than pleasure. In contrast, non-existence will have no pain (and no pleasure) for a total of zero. Doing value math, since zero is greater than a negative value, never existing is better than existing.

But this sort of calculation might seem odd. After all, if the person does not exist, then their pleasure and pain will not balance to zero. Rather this sum would be an undefined value. It cannot be better for a person that they do not exist, since there would not be anyone for the nonexistence to be better for.

This can be countered by saying that this is just a semantic trick and nonexistence would be better than existence because of the relative balance of pleasure and pain. There is also another approach, which is to broaden the calculation from the individual to the world.

In this case, the question would not be about whether it would be better for an individual to exist, but whether a world with the individual would be better than a world without them. If a consequentialist approach is assumed, if it is assumed that pain and pleasure are the measure of value and if it is assumed that pain will outweigh pleasure in every life, then the world would be better if a person never existed. This is because the absence of an individual would reduce the overall pain. Given these assumptions, a world with no humans at all would be a better world. This could be extended to its logical conclusion: if suffering outweighs the pleasures in the case of all beings (Hume did argue that the suffering of all creatures exceeds their enjoyments), then it would be better that no feeling creatures existed. At this point, one might as well do away with existence altogether and have nothing. Thus, while it might not be known why there is something rather than nothing, this argument would seem to show that it would be better to have nothing rather than something.

Of course, this reasoning rests on many assumptions. It can be argued that the measure of value is not solely in terms of pleasures and pains. That is, even if life resulted in more pain than pleasure, the overall positive value could be greater than the negative value. For example, the creation of art and the development of knowledge could provide value that outweighs the pain. It could also be argued that the consequentialist approach is in error and that estimating the worth of life is not just a matter of tallying up the negative and positive. There are, after all, many other moral theories of the value of existence. It is also possible to dispute the claim that pain exceeds pleasure (or that unhappiness exceeds happiness).

Way back in February of 2015 Laura Kipnis’ essay “Sexual Paranoia Strikes Academe” was published in the Chronicle of Higher Education. Though controversial in content, it was a balanced consideration of campus codes governing relationships between students and professors. In response to this essay, Kipnis was subjected to what she rightly called a Title IX Inquisition. While the legal issues of such codes are interesting, my main concern as a philosopher is with their ethics.

I will begin by getting the easy stuff out of the way. As universities are obligated to provide a safe environment conducive to learning, they should have rules that protect students. Since universities are obligated to ensure grades are assigned on merit, they should have rules forbidding exchanging goods or services (including sexual services) for grades. Crimes such as sexual assault and rape should be handled by the police, though universities should also have rules governing the employment of professors who are convicted of such crimes.

It is also relatively easy to settle the issue of whether universities should forbid consenting relationships between professors and students when the professor has power over the student. This would include such things as the student being enrolled in the professor’s class or serving as their TA.  After all, if a student is involved with a professor, then the student might have an unfair advantage relative to other students. This is distinct from the explicit exchange of a grade for sexual favors. Rather, this is a matter of positive bias in favor of the student that can result in special treatment. For example, a professor might grade her boyfriend’s paper much easier than those of other students. 

While sexual relations can lead to bias, these are not the only relations that can have this effect. A professor who is friends with a student or related to a student can be biased in favor of that student. This is distinct from explicit nepotism in which grades are decided based on the relationship. So, if the principle is based on the potential for bias, then students who are friends, relatives or otherwise comparably connected to the professor would also need to be forbidden from being in such roles.

It can, obviously, be argued there is a relevant difference between sexual relations and non-sexual relations that would justify forbidding a professor from dating a student in, while still allowing them to have a friend or relative as a student. Alternatively, a university could have a general ban on professors having students with whom they have a potentially biasing relationship, be it sexual, platonic, or family relationship. As a general policy, this has considerable appeal on the grounds of fairness. It can, however, be countered on the grounds that a professional should be able to control bias in favor of friends and family. But this view opens the door to the claim that a professional should also be able to control bias in the case of a romantic relationship. However, most would certainly be skeptical about such a claim. I recall from my own graduate school days the comments students would make about students who were involved with their professor or TA. Put in polite terms, they expressed skepticism about the fairness of the grading.

My considered view is a conditional one: if a professor can maintain objectivity, then the unfairness argument would have no weight. However, it is reasonable to think that many professors could not maintain such objectivity, thus justifying a general rule forbidding relationship. After all, rule are not crafted with the best people in mind, but those that are less than the best.

The fairness argument could not, of course, be used to justify forbidding professors from dating students who are not and will not be in their classes (or otherwise under them in a professional capacity). So, for example, if an engineering professor were to date an English Literature major who will never take any of the classes she teaches, then there would be no concerns about fairness.

As harassment and coercive relationships should always be forbidden, there would thus seem to be no grounds for forbidding such a consensual relationship between two adults. However, there are good arguments in favor of this general forbiddance.

There are excellent practical reasons to forbid romantic or sexual relationships between students and professors even when there is no coercion, no harassment, and no unfairness. One practical reason is that relationships usually fail and often fail in dramatic ways, and it could be problematic for a university to have such drama play out on campus. Another practical reason is that such relationships can be a legal powder keg in terms of potential lawsuits against a university. As such, university administrators sensibly think that their money and brand should be protected by forbidding such relationships.

From a moral perspective, the concern is whether there are grounds for forbidding such relationships (other than, of course, a utilitarian argument about the potential for brand damage or lawsuits).

One standard argument is that there is always a power disparity between professors and students, and this entails that all such relationships are potentially coercive. Even if most professors would not consciously coerce a student, rules are not made for how the best people would act but for what those who are less than best are likely to do. As such, a blanket ban on relationships is necessary to prevent the possibility of coercive relationships between students and professors. It is thus morally justified.

It might be objected that a rule against coercive relationships would suffice and that if the professor has no professional relationship with the student, then they should be treated as consenting adults. After all, a professor in such a situation would seem to have no power over the student and coercion via professional position would not be possible. So, they should be free to have a relationship.

It could be countered that a professor always has power over a student in virtue of being a professor, even when the professor has no professional relationship with the student. While a professor might have some “power” in regard to being older (usually), having some status, having more income (usually), and so on, these do not seem to be distinct from the “power” one adult could have over another outside the academy and in the dating world.

One could argue that there seems to be nothing specific to being a professor that would give a professor power over the student that would make the relationship automatically coercive. As such, there would seem to be no grounds for forbidding the relationship.

It could be objected that students are especially vulnerable to the power of professors and lack the autonomy needed to resist this power. As such, the university must act in a paternalistic way and forbid all relationships—to protect naïve and powerless students from the cunning, powerful predatorial professors. This would be analogous to laws that protect minors from adults because minors cannot give informed consent. If college students are analogous to (but not legally) minors, then the same reasoning would apply. But this approach seems insulting to the students and would suggest that changes to the age of consent would be warranted. So casting adult students as analogous to children is probably not a good idea.

A reasonable approach is to point out that there is no guarantee that a professor might not end up being in a position of relative power and it would be unreasonable to depend on some sort of informal honor system in which students and professors promise to never be in such a situation. Hence, a blanket ban on such relationships would seem warranted. This is analogous to how a professional should never date co-workers or clients of their business, even if they currently have no professional interaction. Since they could have such interaction someday, they should not risk having a relationship.

There are also other moral grounds for forbidding such relationships that are not based on concerns about power disparities. For example, a case can be made that a professor being involved with a student would simply be unprofessional and hence unethical.

From a legal, practical and moral standpoint, the best policy would seem to be for professors and students to not have romantic relationships.