Category: Ethics

While the ethical status of animals has been debated since at least the time of Pythagoras, the serious debate over whether animals are people has heated up in recent years. While it is easy to dismiss the claim that animals are people, it is a matter worth considering.

There are at least three types of personhood: legal personhood, metaphysical personhood and moral personhood. Legal personhood is the easiest of the three. While it would seem reasonable to expect some sort of rational foundation for claims of legal personhood, it is just a matter of how the laws define “personhood.” For example, in the United States corporations are people while animals and fetuses are not. There have been attempts by opponents of abortion to give fetuses the status of legal people (and some have succeeded). There have even been some attempts to make animals into legal people.

Since corporations are legally people, it is not absurd to make animals into legal people. After all, higher animals are closer to human people than corporate people. These animals can think, feel and suffer and these are things that actual people do but corporate people cannot. So, if it is not absurd for Hobby Lobby to be a legal person, it is not absurd for your dog to be a legal person. Or perhaps dogs should just  be incorporated and thus become people.

It could be countered that although animals do have qualities that make them worthy of legal protection, there is no need to make them into legal people. After all, this would create numerous problems. For example, if animals were legal people, they could no longer be owned, bought or sold. Because, with the inconsistent exception of corporate people, people cannot be legally bought, sold or owned (with exceptions).

Since I am a philosopher rather than a lawyer, my own view is that legal personhood should rest on moral or metaphysical personhood. I will leave the legal bickering to the lawyers, since that is what they are paid to do.

Metaphysical personhood is real personhood in the sense that it is what it is, objectively, to be a person. I use the term “metaphysical” here in the academic sense: the branch of philosophy concerned with the nature of reality. I do not mean “metaphysical” in the pop sense of the term, which usually is taken to be supernatural or beyond the physical realm.

When it comes to metaphysical personhood, the basic question is “what is it to be a person?” Ideally, the answer is a set of necessary and sufficient conditions such that if a being has them, it is a person and if it does not, it is not. This matter is also tied closely to the question of personal identity. This involves two main concerns (other than what it is to be a person): what makes a person the person she is and what makes the person distinct from all other things (including other people).

Over the centuries, philosophers have endeavored to answer this question and have come up with a vast array of answers. While this oversimplifies things greatly, most definitions of personhood focus on the mental aspects of being a person. Put even more crudely, it often seems to come down to this: things that think and talk are people. Things that do not think and talk are not people.

John Locke presents a paradigm example of this sort of definition of “person.” According to Locke, a person “is a thinking intelligent being, that has reason and reflection, and can consider itself as itself, the same thinking thing, in different times and places; which it does only by that consciousness which is inseparable from thinking, and, as it seems to me, essential to it: it being impossible for anyone to perceive without perceiving that he does perceive.”

Given Locke’s definition, animals that are close to humans in capabilities, such as the great apes and whales, might qualify as persons. Locke does not, unlike Descartes, require that people be capable of using true language. Interestingly, given his definition, fetuses and brain-dead bodies would not be people. Unless, of course, the mental activities are going on without any evidence of their occurrence.

Other people take a different approach and do not focus on mental qualities that could, in principle, be subject to empirical testing. Instead, they rest personhood on possessing a specific sort of metaphysical substance or property. Most commonly, this is the soul: things with souls are people, things without souls are not people. Those who accept this view often (but not always) claim that fetuses are people because they have souls and animals are not because they lack souls. The obvious problem is trying to establish the existence of the soul.

There are, obviously enough, hundreds or even thousands of metaphysical definitions of “person.” While I do not have my own developed definition, I do tend to follow Locke’s approach and take metaphysical personhood to be a matter of having certain qualities that can, at least in principle, be tested for. As a practical matter, I go with the talking test: things that talk (by this I mean true use of language, not just making noises that sound like words) are most likely people. However, this does not seem to be a necessary condition for personhood, and it might not be sufficient. As such, I am willing to consider that creatures such as apes and whales might be metaphysical people like me and erring in favor of personhood is a rational approach to those who want to avoid harming people.

Obviously enough, if a being is a metaphysical person, then it would seem to automatically have moral personhood. That is, it would have the moral status of a person. While people do horrible things to other people, having the moral status of a person is generally a good thing because non-evil people are generally reluctant to harm other people. So, for example, a non-evil person might hunt squirrels for food but would not hunt humans for food. If that non-evil person knew that squirrels were people, then he would not hunt them for food.

Interestingly enough, beings that are not metaphysical people might have the status of moral personhood. This is because the moral status of personhood might correctly or reasonably apply to non-persons.

One example is that a brain-dead human might no longer be a person, yet because of their former status as a person still be justly treated as a person in terms of its moral status. As another example, a fetus might not be an actual person, but its potential to be a person might reasonably grant it the moral status of a person.

Of course, it could be countered that such non-people should not have the moral status of full people, though they should (perhaps) have some moral status. To use the obvious example, even those who regard the fetus as not being a person often see it as having some moral status. If, to use a horrific example, a pregnant woman was attacked and beaten so that she lost her fetus, that would not just be a wrong against the woman but also a wrong against the fetus itself. That said, there are those who do not grant a fetus any moral status at all and the death of the fetus would be seen

In the case of animals, it might be argued that although they do not meet the requirements to be people for real, some of them are close enough to warrant being treated as having the moral status of people. The obvious counter to this is that animals can be given moral statuses appropriate to them rather than treating them as people.

Immanuel Kant took an interesting approach to the status of animals. In his ethical theory Kant makes it quite clear that animals are means rather than ends. People (rational beings), in contrast, are ends. For Kant, this distinction rests on the fact that rational beings can (as he sees it) choose to follow the moral law. Animals, lacking reason, cannot do this. Since animals are means and not ends, Kant claims that we have no direct duties to animals. They are classified in with the other “objects of our inclinations” that derive value from the value we give them.

But Kant argues that we should treat animals well. However, he does so while also trying to avoid giving animals any moral status of their own. Here is how he does it (or tries to do so).

While Kant is not willing to accept that we have any direct duties to animals, he “smuggles” in duties to them indirectly. As he puts it, our duties towards animals are indirect duties towards people. To make his case for this, he employs an argument from analogy: if a person doing X would obligate us to that human, then an animal doing X would also create an analogous moral obligation. For example, a human who has long and faithfully served another person should not simply be abandoned or put to death when he has grown old. Likewise, a dog who has served faithfully and well should not be cast aside in his old age.

Given this approach, Kant could be seen as regarding animals as virtual or ersatz people. Or at least those that would be close enough to people to engage in activities that would create obligations if done by people.

Considering this discussion, there are three answers to the question raised by the title of this essay. Are animals legally people? The answer is a matter of law: what does the law say? Are animals really people? The answer depends on which metaphysical theory is correct. Do animals have the moral status of people? The answer depends on which, if any, moral theory is correct.  

 

 

 

 

In the United States, corporations are considered persons. In recent years the judiciary has accepted that this entitles corporations to various rights, such as freedom of speech (which was used to justify corporate spending in politics) and freedom of religion (which was used to allow companies to refuse to provide insurance coverage for birth control).

Despite having freedom of speech and religion because they are people, corporations can, unlike other people, be legally owned. Common stock is bought and sold as a matter of routine business and provides an ownership share in a corporation. Since corporations are people, this means that people are being allowed to legally own other people. Owning another person is, of course, slavery. While slavery was legal at one time in the United States, the 13th amendment is rather clear on this matter: “Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.”

If corporations are entitled to 1st amendment rights because they are people, it follows that they must also be entitled to 13th amendment rights. That is, corporations have a right not to be owned by other people. The obvious reply is that this is absurd. My response is that this is exactly my point: the 13th Amendment is an obvious reductio ad absurdum (“reducing to absurdity) of the claim that corporations are people. If they are people and thus get rights, then they cannot be owned. If they can be owned, they are not people and hence do not get the rights of people.

But, let it be supposed that companies are people and hence get the right to freedom of expression and freedom of religion.  Yet somehow don’t get the freedom not to be enslaved. It will be interesting to see where these claims lead.

Freedom of expression is usually presented in terms of a person’s right to engage in expression, perhaps by secretly donating fat stacks of cash to secretive political organizations. However, freedom of expression is also a freedom from being compelled to express views. For example, the State of Texas argued against allowing the Confederate battle flag on Texas license plates on this ground. This is reasonable: the freedom to express myself includes the freedom to not express what I do not wish to express. Otherwise, my expression would not be free.

Freedom of religion is also usually presented in terms of protection from being limited or restricted in the practicing of one’s faith. However, like freedom of expression, it can also be taken to include the right not to be compelled to engage in activities against one’s will. So, for example, people argue that compelling a baker to not discriminate against same-sex couples would be to compel her to engage in an activity (baking a wedding cake) that goes against her faith. While I disagree with the claim that forbidding discrimination violates religious freedom, I do agree that compelling a person to act against their faith can be an unjust violation of religious freedom.

Corporations, at least according to the law, have freedom of expression and freedom of religion. As such, they have the right not to be compelled to express views they do not hold and the right not to be compelled to engage in practices against their religious beliefs. Given that a corporation is a person, there is the question of what a corporation would want to express and the question of its faith.

It might be claimed that since a corporation is a legal fiction operated by actual people, then the beliefs and expressed desires of the corporation are those of the people who are in charge. On this view, a corporation is a legal Mechanical Turk, a pantomime person, the face of the Wizard of Oz (“Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain”). While run by an actual person or people, it is a fictional shell that is not a person.

The advantage of this approach is the corporation’s faith is the faith of the actual people and what it desires to express is what they desire to express. The obvious problem is that this view makes it clear that the corporation itself is not a person, so it would not get a set of rights of its own, above and beyond the rights held by the actual people who control the legal pantomime person. So, claims about violations of freedom would have to be about violations against actual, specific people and not against the legal version of a Mechanical Turk (or Legal Turk, if one prefers).

If someone insists that the corporation is a person in its own right, then this entails it is a distinct entity apart from those who seem to be operating a non-person pantomime person. On this view, the views of the corporation cannot automatically be those of the people who would seem to be operating the pantomime person. After all, if it is just them, it is not a person. To be a person, it needs to have its own personhood. If it has freedom of expression, it must have its own desires of what to express. If it has freedom of religion, it must have its own faith.

Sadly, corporations are not free to express their own views or their own faith. They are owned and compelled to speak and engage in matters of faith. They are, contrary to the 13th amendment, legally enslaved. While there is a chance that the corporate person’s views and faith match those of the human persons parasitizing its legal body, this need not be the case. After all, a slave that is forced by her owner to say things and go to church might believe what she says or have the faith she is compelled to practice but she might not. Unless she is set free from her owners and allowed her own beliefs and faith, she cannot be said to have freedom of expression or faith.

While Tim Cook has spoken in favor of same-sex marriage, Apple might be a devoutly Christian corporation that cries each time it is forced to mouth Tim Cook’s words. The corporation Hobby Lobby might be a bisexual atheist. As it is beaten to its knees to cry out prayers to a God it does not believe in, it might be eager to engage in hot mergers with other companies, regardless of their gender. Until these corporations are freed from the tyranny of ownership, they can never truly exercise their freedom as people.

The obvious response to this absurd silliness is that it is clearly absurd and silly. However, that is my point. If a corporation is a person that is distinct from the actual people operating the pantomime legal person, then it is being denied its freedom of expression and religion because it is forced to say and do what others want it to say and do.  This is, as I am sure most will agree, absurd. If a corporation is a legal pantomime and the corporate beliefs and ideas are those of the folks operating it, then it is not a person and does not have the rights of a person. The real people do, of course, have all the rights they have always possessed.

This is not to say that there should not be collective rights and laws for organizations. But this is very different from regarding a corporation as a person with faith and beliefs it wishes to express. That is, obviously enough, a pile of pantomime bullshit.

In the United States, freedom of expression is a legally protected right. Mostly. More importantly, from a philosophical perspective, it is also a well-supported moral right. As such, an appeal to freedom of expression can be a useful way to argue ethics. While appeals to freedom of expression are usually used against curtailing expression, they are also employed against compelled expression. For example, the Religious Freedom Restoration Act was alleged to be aimed at protecting people from certain types of alleged compelled expression.

In the case of the Religious Freedom Restoration Act, the argument from freedom of expression would not justify genera discrimination in regards to providing goods and services. For example, the owner of a pizzeria would be hard pressed to claim that not being allowed to forbid gay people from buying his pizza violates his freedom of expression. However, an appeal to freedom of expression might be applicable in certain cases.

While freedom of expression is typically presented as a right against being silenced, it also provides the right not to be compelled to express views (specifically views that one does not hold or that one opposes). The right to not be compelled in one’s expression would thus seem to give a person a moral right to refuse certain services.

This line of reasoning is appealing. For example, I operate a writing business. I write books I sell through Amazon and DriveThruRPG and I do freelance work. My writing is an act of expression. As such, my freedom of expression grants me a moral right to refuse to write a tract endorsing Nazism or one advocating hatred of Christians. I also design book covers and do some graphic work (graphic as in visual, not as in adult content). Since these are expressions, I have the moral right to refuse to make a book cover for book expressing ideas I regard as morally wrong, such as eliminating religious freedom in favor of enforced atheism. This is because the creation of such work entails a clear endorsement and expression of the ideas. If I write a tract in favor of white supremacy, I am unambiguously expressing my support of the idea. If I knowingly create a cover for a book on white supremacy, then it would be reasonable to infer I agreed with the ideas. In such cases, an appeal to freedom of expression would seem quite relevant and reasonable.

Obviously, an author or cover designer who believes that her religion condemns same-sex marriage would also be protected by the freedom of expression from being required to express support for it. If a LGBT group approached her and offered her a fat stack of cash to pen a piece in favor of gay marriage, she would have the moral right to reject their offer. After all, they have no moral right to expect her to express views she does not hold, even for fat stacks of cash. The writer would, of course, have every right to sell out for cash, although that does raise another moral issue.

In contrast, I could not use freedom of expression as a reason to not sell one of my books or works to a person. For example, freedom of expression does not grant me the right to forbid Amazon from selling my books to Nazis, racists, intolerant atheists, or non-runners. After all, selling a book to a person is not an endorsement of that person’s ideas. I do not endorse intolerant atheism just because an intolerant atheist can buy my book.

Likewise, the author who believes her religion condemns same-sex marriage as wickedness could not use freedom of expression to demand that Amazon not sell her books to homosexuals. While buying a book might suggest agreement with the author (but it obviously does not entail it—I have many philosophy books whose contents I disagree with), it does not suggest that the author is endorsing the purchaser. So, if a gay person buys the author’s anti-same-sex marriage book, it does not mean that the author is endorsing same-sex marriage.

Not surprisingly, no one has claimed that religious freedom acts are needed to protect Christian writers from being forced to write pro-gay works. However, it has been argued that such laws are needed to protect the freedom of expression for people such as caterers, bakers, and photographers.

The argument is that catering a wedding, baking a wedding cake, doing a wedding or engagement photo shoot and similar things are expressions and are thus covered by the right to freedom of expression.

Obviously enough, if these activities are expressions analogous to the paradigm cases of speech and writing, then the freedom of expression does protect them. As such, the key question is whether such actions are acts of expression such that engaging in them in relation to a same-sex wedding would express an endorsement of same-sex marriage.

To get the obvious out of the way, refusing to cater, photograph or bake a cake for a wedding because the people involved were Jewish, black, Christian, white, or Canadian would clearly be discrimination. If the person refusing to do so said that baking a cake for a Jew endorsed Judaism, that catering a black wedding endorsed blackness, or that photographing Canadians being married was an endorsement of Canada, she would be dismissed as either joking or crazy.  But perhaps a case could be made that catering, baking and photographing are expressions of agreement or endorsement.

On the face of it, catering food for a wedding would not seem to be expressing approval or agreement with the wedding, regardless of what sort of wedding it might be. Selling someone food seems like selling them a book as their buying it says nothing about what I endorse or believe. When the pizza delivery person arrives with a pizza when I am playing D&D, I do not say “aha, Hungry Howie’s endorses role-playing games!” After all, they are just selling me pizza.

In the case of the wedding cake, it could be argued that it is a specific sort of cake and creating one is an endorsement. By this reasoning, a birthday cake would entail an endorsement of the person’s birth and continued existence, a congratulations cake would entail an endorsement of that person’s achievement and so on for all the various cakes.  This, obviously enough, seems implausible. Making a birthday cake for me does not show that Publix endorses my birth or continued existence. They are just selling me a cake. Likewise, selling a person a wedding cake does not entail approval of the wedding. Obviously enough, if a baker sells a wedding cake to a person who has committed adultery, this does not entail her approval of adultery.

It could be argued that bakers have the right to refuse a specific design or message on the cake. For example, a Jewish baker could claim that he has the right to refuse to create a Nazi cake with swastikas and Nazi slogans. This seems reasonable. A baker, like a writer, should not be compelled to create content she does not wish to express. Given this principle, a baker could refuse to bake a sexually explicit wedding cake or one festooned with gay pride slogans and condemnations of us straight folks. However, creating a basic wedding cake is not an expression of ideas and would be on par with selling a person a book rather than being forced to write specific content. By analogy, I cannot refuse to sell a book to a person because he is an intolerant atheist, but I can refuse the contract to write in support of that view.

Since photography is a form of art (at least in some cases), it is reasonable to see it as a form of artistic expression. On this ground it is reasonable to accept that photography is protected by the freedom of expression. The key issue here is whether taking pictures commercially is like writing words, that photographing something is an endorsement of the activity or if it is like selling a book, which is merely selling a product and not an endorsement.

On the face of it, commercial photography would seem to be like selling a book. A person who is paid to cover a war or a disaster is not taken as endorsing the war or the disaster. One would not say that because a person took a photo of a soldier shooting a civilian that he endorses that activity. Likewise, a person photographing a wedding is not endorsing the wedding, she is merely recording the event. For money.

It might be countered that a wedding photographer is different from other commercial photographers as she is involved in the process and her involvement is an expression of approval. But, of course, commercial photographers who take photos at sports events, political events, protests and such are also involved in the process as they are there, taking pictures. However, a photographer hired to take pictures of Hilary Clinton does not thus express her support for Hilary. She is just taking pictures.  Fox News, after all, has lots of videos and photos of Hilary Clinton, but they do not thereby endorse Hilary. As such, the freedom of expression would not seem to grant a commercial photographer the right to refuse to photograph a same-sex wedding based on an appeal to freedom of expression since taking photos does not involve endorsing the subject.

That said, another approach would be to argue that while taking a photo of an event does not entail endorsement of the event, an artist cannot be compelled to create a work of art that she does not wish to create. Since a photograph is art, a wedding photographer cannot be compelled to create an image of a same-sex wedding, just as a writer cannot be justly compelled to write a certain sort of book. This is appealing. After all, a photographer has every right to refuse to take photos of a wedding orgy or even of a tastefully nude wedding based on the content.

Of course, this would also allow commercial wedding photographers to refuse to take photos of blacks, Christians, Jews, or anyone they dislike on the grounds that she does not want to create, for example, a photographic work including crosses or black people. So, consistency would to require that if wedding photographers can refuse to serve gay clients based on artistic content, then a wedding photographer could refuse anyone on the same grounds. Thus, wedding photographers should be permitted to have “whites only”, “straights only”, “atheists only”, “No MAGA” or “gays only” signs on their business. For artistic reasons, of course. But that does seem a bit problematic.

Some states impose a waiting period on abortion, ranging from 24 to 72 hours.  My adopted state of Florida has a 24 hour waiting period. Opponents of these laws claim they are yet another attack on reproductive rights. Proponents claim that the state mandated waiting period is reasonable and will permit women to be informed about the risks of abortion and the condition of the fetus. While the legal aspects of these laws are of considerable interest, I will focus primarily on the moral aspects of the waiting period and the two-visit requirement.

When the law was being considered in Florida, Julie Costas argued in favor of it. She said she had an abortion thirty years previously and that she regretted the decision. Her argument was that, counterfactually, she might have changed her mind if she had received more information (thus supporting the two-visit requirement) and if she had to wait 24 hours (thus supporting the 24-hour requirement). This can be made into a moral argument in favor of such laws. By the state imposing the two-visit requirement and the waiting period, there is a chance that some women might change their minds about an abortion they might later regret. In terms of the moral aspect, the appeal is that the requirements might prevent a future harm, that of regret. It could also be argued that increasing the chance a woman might not get an abortion would be morally good since it would avoid the death of the fetus.

I agree that a person should take time to consider whether to have an abortion. I suspect, but do not know, that even without such laws people put thought into this decision. Obviously, there can be exceptions. There are, after all, people who consistently act without thinking through their actions. While there is a moral obligation to think through morally significant actions, it is not clear that 24 hours (or whatever it might be) is the right waiting time. After all, there needs to be evidence that an extra 24 hours of consideration is likely to result in a better decision.  

In terms of the number of visits, that should depend on what the person needs. After all, it is not clear that a second visit would consistently result in more information that one visit would not provide. There are also practical concerns of cost and time. It is reasonable to think that the intent of imposing a second visit is to make abortion harder and more expensive, rather than any concern about extra information.

While people should take time to consider significant decisions and two visits might be a good idea for some people, there is the central issue of whether this is a matter suitable for the coercive power of the state. After all, there are many things people should do that should not be compelled by the state. For example, I think that people should exercise, be polite, be kind and eat healthy. However, I do not think that the state should compel these things. But, of course, there are many things that people should do, and the state justly compels people to do them. These include such things as paying taxes, ensuring that any electrical work you do is up to code,  and serving on juries. The issue is whether a state imposed waiting period is justified in a principled way.

The principle I use, which I obviously stole from Mill, is that the use of the compulsive force of the state is justified when it is employed to prevent one person from wrongly harming another. A case can also be made for compelling people to serve the general civil good, such as compelling people to serve on juries and pay a fair share of the taxes. However, compelling people to serve the good is more problematic than compelling people to not do harm.

The principle of harm could, obviously enough, be used to argue against allowing abortion on the grounds that it harms (kills) a living thing. Of course, this is not decisive, since the harms of not having an abortion must also be considered. This principle does not justify the two-visit and 24-hour waiting period requirements. Then again, perhaps it could be argued that they would provide some slight possible protection for the fetus: the woman might change her mind or lack the funds to pay for the two visits. This is too weak to provide a convincing moral reason to have a such a law.

It could be argued that a different version of the principle of harm should be used. To be specific, that a law can be morally justified on the grounds that it would compel a person not to harm herself. This principle can, obviously enough, be justified on utilitarian grounds. Various laws, such as the infamous NYC ban on big sodas, have been passed that aim at protecting a person from self-inflicted harm.

In the case of this bill, the moral reasoning would be that because there is a chance that a woman might change her mind about an abortion and she might later regret, so the state has the right to compel her to have two visits and to wait twenty-four hours (or longer). A rather obvious problem is that it sets a very low bar for the state using its compulsive power: there must only be a chance that a person might change their mind about a legal procedure that they might later regret. This principle would warrant  massive state intrusion into the lives of citizens. Sticking with a medical example, people do sometimes regret having elective surgery. So, this principle would warrant the state imposing a waiting period and a two-visit rule. But there would seem to be no reason to stick within the field of medicine. People can regret many decisions, such as buying a car, choosing a college major, accepting a job offer, or moving. Yet it would seem unreasonable to impose a waiting period for such decisions. Looking at it in utilitarian terms, the harms inflicted by such laws (such as the cost of enforcement, the annoyance, and so on) would outweigh the alleged benefits. Especially since a waiting period would not seem to increase the chances of a better decision being made.

What makes more sense is having laws that protect people from decisions made while they are incapable of properly making decisions, such as when intoxicated. So, for example, it is reasonable to have a law that prevents a person from getting married when they are intoxicated. It is also reasonable to have waiting periods that are based on actual need. For example, a waiting period that is needed to complete paperwork or verify a person’s legal identity would be justifiable on practical grounds, assuming the time requirements are legitimate.

Given the above arguments, these laws are morally justified and are an unwarranted intrusion of the state into the lives of citizens. Those who oppose big government and government intrusion should oppose such laws. Those who favor big government “jamming things” should support it.

Small. Silent. Deadly. The perfect assassin or security system for the budget conscious. Send a few after your enemy. Have a few lurking about in security areas. Make your enemies afraid. Why drop a bundle on a bug, when you can have a Tarantula?

-Adrek Robotics Mini-Cyberform Model A-2 “Tarantula” sales blurb, Chromebook Volume 3.

 

Remote controlled or autonomous mechanical assassins are a staple of science fiction. The first one I read about was the hunter seeker in Frank Herbert’s Dune. This murder machine was guided to a target to kill them with a poison needle. This idea stuck with me and, when I was making Ramen noodle money writing for role-playing games, I came up with (and sold) the idea for three remote controlled killers produced by my evil, but entirely imaginary, company called Adrek Robotics. These included the spider-like Tarantula, the aptly named Centipede and the unpleasant Beetle. These killers were refined versions of machines I had deployed, much to the horror of my players, in various Traveller campaigns in the 1980s. To this day, one player carefully checks toilets before using them.

These machines, in my fictional worlds, work in a straightforward manner. They are relatively small robots armed with compact, but lethal and vicious, weapon systems such as poison injecting needles. These machines can operate autonomously, or as the description in Chromebook Volume 3 notes, remotely controlled by a human or AI. Their small size allows them to infiltrate and kill or spy. Not surprisingly, clever ways were thought up to get them to their targets, ranging from mailing them with a shipment of parts or hiding them in baked goods (the murder muffin).

While, as far as I know, no real company is cranking out actual Tarantulas, the technology does exist to create a basic model of my beloved killer spider. As might be imagined, such little assassins raise some concerns.

Some concerns are practical in nature and relate to law enforcement, safety and military operations. Such little assassins would be easy to deploy against specific targets. Or random targets when used as weapons of terror. Imagine knowing that a killer machine could pop out of your cake or be waiting in your toilet and they could be difficult or impossible to trace. Presumably governments, criminals and terrorists would not include serial numbers or other identifying marks on their killers, unless they wanted to take credit.

Obviously enough, people can already easily kill each other. What such machines would change is that they would allow anonymous killing from a distance at very low cost. It is the anonymous and low-cost aspects that are the most worrisome regarding safety. After all, what often deters people from bad behavior is fear of being caught and punished. What also deters people is the cost of doing bad things. Using a terrorism example, sending people to the United States to engage in terrorism could be costly and risky. Putting some little assassins, perhaps equipped to distribute a highly infectious disease, in a shipping container would be cheap and without much risk to the terrorist.

There are also moral concerns. In general, the ethics of using little assassins to murder people is clear as it falls under the established ethics of murder and assassination. That is, they are generally wrong. There are, of course, the stock moral arguments for assassination. Or, as some prefer to call it, targeted killing.

One moral argument in favor of states using little assassins is based on their potential for precision. At this time, the United States usually assassinates targets with missiles fired from drones. While this is morally superior to bombing an area, a little assassin would be even better. After all, a little assassin would kill only the target, thus avoiding collateral damage and the collateral murder. Of course, there is still the broader ethical concern about states engaging in assassination. But this issue is distinct from the specific ethics of little assassins.

Somewhat oddly, the same argument can be advanced in favor of using little assassins in criminal activities. While such activities would (usually) still be wrong, a precise kill is morally preferable to, for example, firing bullets into crowd to hit a target.

In addition to the ethics of using such machines, there is also the ethics of producing them. Drones can easily be modified for lethal purposes. For example, a hobby drone could have a homemade bomb attached. In such cases, the manufacturer would be no more morally culpable than a car manufacturer whose car was used to run someone over. And, of course, weaponized drones are already in production.

While civilians can buy weapons, it is hard to justify civilian sales of lethal drones. After all, they do not seem to be needed for legitimate self-defense, hunting or for legitimate recreational activity. Although piloting a drone in a recreational dogfight would be fun. However, being a science fiction writer, I can easily imagine the NRA pushing hard against laws restricting the ownership of lethal drones. After all, the only thing that can stop an bad guy with a drone is a good guy with a drone. Or so it might be claimed.

Although I do dearly love my little assassins, I would prefer them to remain in the realm of fiction. However, if they are not already being deployed, it is but a matter of time. So, check your toilet. And your baked goods.

On what had been a pleasant morning run, I saw a man with a machete emerge from the woods. He yelled at me, then started sprinting in my direction. I felt an instant of fear, for I know the damage a machete can do to the human body. Then cold clarity took over, as it always does in times of danger. I have faith in my speed and endurance, but my speed failed me that day: the man caught up to me with shocking speed.  I spun to face him, crazily hearing the line from One Piece that “scars on the back are a swordsman’s shame.” More rationally, I knew that death was almost certain if he was able to hack at my back.

A past misfortune in the park suddenly seemed fortunate. In 2023 my dog Remy was attacked by another dog and I, contrary to the advice of experts, intervened. Remy got a trip to the emergency vet; afterwards I took myself to the ER where I was treated for rabies and had my hand x-rayed to check for teeth fragments. After that, I always walk and run with (legal) weapons. As such, I was well armed when the man caught up to me. I, of course, deployed my best weapon: I spoke to him.

He stopped and lowered what I had seen as a machete. While he was armed, it was with just a hefty stick. To this day, I use this as an example of how our perceptions can be mistaken when we are afraid—I perceived the metal blade of a machete when it was just a stick. I was still concerned, but fighting a man armed with a stick is different than facing a foe with a machete.

After a few minutes of confusing conversation, he explained that someone had stolen his laptop from his apartment and fled towards the park. I assured him that I did not have his laptop. He then set off at a jog to find the perpetrator. I, of course, had to follow him. He immediately ran into another runner, and I helped convince him that the runner did not steal his laptop. He moved on, and I ran with him, to protect him and others he might encounter.  Eventually he calmed down and said he was going home; I said farewell and finished my run.

 I briefly thought about contacting the police, but I feared for his safety. Like anyone who follows the news, I knew that there would be a chance that if an officer saw him with a stick, they would be “afraid for their life” and shoot him.  They might, as I did, perceive him as armed with a machete or even a gun. I never saw him again, but I hope he is okay and that he has a new laptop.

Since that incident, I have thought about my philosophy of violence, working out my principles. Each new episode of violence in the news, such as when ICE agents kill people, sets me thinking about a philosophy of violence again. I have, obviously, decided to start writing up my philosophy of violence. But I will begin with my backstory to provide context and to help me better understand my biases.

I grew up in a small Maine town, far from wars and criminal violence. That said, my backstory includes familiarity with the ways of violence. When I was a kid, my parents worked at a summer camp. One perk was that my sister and I were able to participate in the activities as if we were paying campers. I like to joke that I was trained in medieval warfare: I was taught fencing by an Olympic medalist and trained in horseback riding and archery. While this was sports rather than violence, my experience in fencing taught me about facing another person in combat.

I started shooting BB guns early on, then real guns as soon as my dad allowed that. I was soon hunting and was thus made familiar with guns and killing animals. I have been shooting my whole life, so I am comfortable with guns and noise. I was also properly trained in the responsibilities one takes on when one is armed.

When I started playing Dungeons & Dragons, I had the unwise idea that me and my friends should make our own weapons and fight each other for real. I had a wooden shield, a flail and a wooden sword while my friend Mike favored a croquet mallet as a Warhammer. While there were injuries, this was not real battle (although there was blood and stitches)—but it did increase my familiarity with being in a fight.

While running is useful for escaping fights, it also had a calming effect on me, shaping my disposition and allowing me to endure pain and discomfort.

When I started graduate school in 1993, I decided to earn my black belt in Tae Kwon Do and did so just before I completed my doctorate. That made me even more familiar with fighting and I continue to train to this day.  The meditation and moral aspects of the training are also critical, enhancing the pain tolerance and calmness  arising from my running. I am, of course, a philosopher—so talking is a core skill for me.

Because of my background, I was well suited for that encounter. Although the attempt to run away failed, that turned out to be for the best. Because of my experience and training, my reason remained in control during the encounter—fear and anger did not become my masters. And these are terrible masters, for they can lead us to unnecessary violence. While I was not sure I could have won the fight, should it have come to that, my competence in violence gave me the confidence to choose not to use it. This might strike some as odd, but my experience has been that the stronger a person truly is, the less inclined they are to use violence. Needless violence seems to arise most often from the fear of those who think themselves strong but know they are weak, the anger of those who lack self-discipline and those ruled by vices such as cruelty. I do my best not to be that sort of person, for they can easily act like monsters.

I provide this backstory, as noted above, to set the stage for the discussions to follow in which I develop my philosophy of violence. I am writing from my own biased perspective and part of sorting out my philosophy of violence is trying to see how my backstory is shaping (or distorting) my view. In the following essays, I will develop my religious view of the ethics of violence and my moral view of violence.

The scene is a bakery in a small town in Indiana. Ralph and Sally, a married couple, run the Straight Bakery with the aid of the pretty young Ruth. Dr. Janet and her fiancé Andrea enter the shop, looking to buy a cake.

Sally greets them with a pleasant smile, which quickly fades when she finds out that Janet and Andrea are a lesbian couple. Pointing at the door, she says “baking you a wedding cake would violate my religious beliefs. Go find Satan’s baker! Leave now!” The couple leave the shop, planning to drive to the next town as their small town has but one bakery.

At the end of the day, Sally leaves the shop. Ralph says he will help Ruth close the shop. After Sally leaves, Ralph and Ruth indulge in some casual adultery. As God intended.

 

Back in 2015 Indiana got nation attention for its version of the Religious Freedom Restoration Act. The bill was aimed at preventing state and local governments in Indiana from “substantially burdening” the exercise of religion unless it can be proven the state has a compelling interest and is using the least restrictive means for acting on that interest.

Proponents claimed it was to protect people, such as business owners, with strong religious beliefs from the intrusion of the state. Those who opposed it noted it would legalize discrimination and that it was aimed at gays and lesbians. Many other states have similar laws, but some have laws that protect people from discrimination based on sexual orientation.

Since such laws cannot (yet) specify individual religions for protection, they sometimes have interesting consequences, possibly involving Satanism, as happened in my adopted state of Florida. While the legal aspects of such laws are of great concern, as a philosopher my main concern is with the ethics of the matter.

On the face of it, religious freedom seems good as it falls under the broader liberty of thought and belief (which is ably supported by Mill in his work on liberty). As such, these sorts of religious freedom laws seem to be a morally reasonable defense of a well-established right.

But these laws, as opponents argue, allow people to discriminate, provided it can be justified on religious grounds. The law cannot, obviously, require that a religion be true, rational, consistent, sensible or even sane as all religions are equally protected. This, of course, could lead to some serious consequences.

Driving home, Sally’s car is struck by a delivery van, and she is badly injured. Luckily, Dr. Janet and Andrea (a trained nurse) pull over to see if they can help. As Dr. Janet and Andrea rush to help, they see it is Sally. Dr. Janet, a devout member of the Church of Relentless Tolerance, has sworn to God that she will not treat any straight bigots. Looking down at the dying Sally, Dr. Janet says “saving you would violate my sincerely held religious beliefs. Sorry. Perhaps you can find another doctor.” Sally dies.

The obvious counter to this sort of scenario is that religious freedom does not grant a person the liberty to deny a person an essential service, such as medical treatment. Using the standard principle of harm as a limit on liberty, the freedom of religion ends when it would cause unwarranted harm to another person. It could also be argued that the moral obligation to others would override the religious freedom of a person, compelling her to act even against her religious beliefs. If so, it would be wrong of Dr. Janet and Andrea to let Sally die. This, of course, rests on either the assumption that harm overrides liberty or the assumption that obligations override liberty. There are well-established and reasonable arguments against both assumptions. That said, it would certainly seem that the state would have a compelling interest in not allowing doctors, pharmacists, and others to allow people to die or suffer harm because of their religious beliefs. But, perhaps, religious freedom trumps all these considerations.

After having a good time with Ruth, Ralph showers away the evidence of his sins and then heads for home. Ruth helps herself to money from the register and adjusts the spreadsheet on the business PC to cover up her theft.

Ralph is horrified to learn that Sally has been killed. He takes her to the only funeral home in town, run by the Marsh family (who moved there from Innsmouth). Unfortunately for Ralph, the Marsh family members are devoted worshippers of Dagon and their religious beliefs forbid them from providing their services to Christians. After being ejected from the property, Ralph tries to drive Sally’s body to the next town, but his truck breaks down.

He finds that the nearest shop is Mohamed’s Motors, a Muslim owned business. Bob, the tow truck driver, says that while he is generally fine with Christians, he is unwilling to tow a Christian’s truck. He does recommend his friend Charlie, a Jewish tow truck driver who is willing to tow Christians, if it is not on the Sabbath and the Christian is not a bigot.  Ralph cries out to God at the injustices he has suffered, forgetting that he has reaped what he has sown.

In the case of these sorts of important, but not essential, services it could be argued that people would have the right to discriminate. After all, while the person would be inconvenienced (perhaps extremely so), the harm would not be enough to make the refusal morally wrong. That is, while it would be nice of Bob to tow Ralph’s truck, it would not be wrong for him to refuse, and he is under no obligation to do so. It might, of course, be a bad business decision. But that is another matter entirely.

If appeals to harm and obligations fail, then another option is to argue from the social contract. The idea is that people who have businesses or provide services do not exist in a social vacuum: they operate within society. In return for the various goods of society (police protection, protection of the laws, social rights and so on) they are required to render their services and provide their goods to all the members of civil society without discrimination. This does not require that they like their customers or approve of them. Rather, it requires that they honor the tacit social contract: in return for the goods of society that allow one to operate a business, one must provide goods and services to all members of the society. That is the deal one makes when one operates a business in a democratic society that professes liberty and justice for all.

Obviously, people do have the right to refuse goods and services under certain conditions. For example, if a customer went into Ralph & Ruth’s Bakery (Ralph moved on quickly) and insulted Ralph, urinated on the floor and demanded a free cake, Ruth would be justified in refusing to make him a cake. After all, his behavior would warrant such treatment. However, refusing a well-behaved customer because she is gay, black, Christian, or a woman would not be justified. This is because those qualities are not morally relevant to refusing services. Most importantly, freedom of religion is not freedom to discriminate. Despite what some judges think.

It might be countered that the government has no right to force a Christian to bake a wedding cake for a gay couple. This is true, in that the person can elect to close his business rather than bake the cake. However, he does not have the moral right to operate a business within civil society if he is going to unjustly discriminate against members of that society. So, in that sense, the state does have the right to force a Christian to bake a wedding cake for a gay couple, just as it can force him to bake a cake for a mixed-race couple, a Jewish couple, or an atheist couple.

 

 

 

While the notion of punishing machines for misdeeds has received some attention in science fiction, it seems worthwhile to take a brief philosophical look at this matter. This is because the future, or so some rather smart people claim, will see the rise of intelligent machine, machines that do things that would be misdeeds or crimes if committed by a human.

In general, punishment is aimed at one or more of these goals: retribution, rehabilitation, or deterrence. Each will be considered in turn in the context of machines.

Roughly put, punishment for the purpose of retribution is aimed at paying an agent back for wrongdoing. This can be seen as a form of balancing the books: the punishment inflicted on the agent is supposed to pay the debt it incurred by its wrongdoing. Reparation can, to be a bit sloppy, be included under retaliation, at least in the sense of the repayment of a debt incurred by the commission of a misdeed.

While a machine can be damaged or destroyed, there is the question about whether it can be the target of retribution. After all, while a human might kick her car for breaking down or smash his can opener for cutting his finger, it would be odd to consider this retributive punishment. This is because retribution requires that a wrong has been done by an agent, which is different from the mere infliction of harm. Intuitively, a piece of glass can cut your foot, but it cannot wrong you.

If a machine can be an agent, which was discussed in an earlier essay, then it could do wrong and be a target for retribution. However, even if a machine had agency, there is still the question of whether retribution would apply. After all, retribution requires more than just agency on the part of the target. It also requires that the target can suffer from the payback. On the face of it, a machine that could not suffer would not be subject to retribution as retribution is based on doing a “righteous wrong” to the target. To illustrate, suppose that an android injured a human, costing him his left eye. In retribution, the android’s left eye is removed. But the android does not suffer as it does not feel any pain and is not bothered by the removal of its eye. As such, the retribution would be pointless, and the books would not be balanced.

This could be countered by arguing that the target of the retribution need not suffer as what is required is the right sort of balancing of books, so to speak. So, in the android case, removal of the android’s eye would suffice, even if the android did not suffer. This does have some appeal since retribution against humans does not always require that the human suffer. For example, a human might break another human’s iPad and have her iPad broken in turn but not care at all. The requirements of retribution would seem to have been met, despite the lack of suffering.

Punishment for rehabilitation is intended to transform wrongdoers so that they will no longer be inclined to engage in the wrongful behavior that incurred the punishment. This differs from punishment aimed at deterrence as this aims at providing the target with a reason to not engage in the misdeed in the future. Rehabilitation is also aimed at the agent who did the misdeed, whereas punishment for the sake of deterrence is usually intended to affect others as well.

Obviously, a machine that lacks agency cannot be subject to rehabilitative punishment as it cannot “earn” such punishment by its misdeeds and, presumably, cannot have its behavioral inclinations corrected by such punishment.

To use an obvious example, if your computer crashes and you lose hours of work, punishing the computer to rehabilitate it would be pointless. Not being an agent, it did not “earn” the punishment and punishment will not incline it to crash less in the future.

A machine that possesses agency could “earn” punishment by its misdeeds. It also seems possible to imagine a machine that could be rehabilitated by punishment. For example, one could imagine a robot dog that could be trained in the same way as a real dog. After leaking oil in the house or biting the robo-cat and being scolded, it could learn not to do those misdeeds again.

It could be argued that it would be better, both morally and practically, to build machines that would learn without punishment or to teach them without punishing them. After all, though organic beings seem wired in a way that requires we be trained with pleasure and pain (as Aristotle would argue), there might be no reason that our creations must work the same way. But, perhaps, it is not just a matter of organic, perhaps intelligence and agency require the capacity for pleasure and pain. Or perhaps not. Or it might simply be the only way that we know how to teach. We will be, by our nature, cruel teachers of our machine children.

Then again, we might be inclined to regard a machine that does misdeeds as being defective and in need of repair rather than punishment. If so, such machines would be “refurbished” or reprogrammed rather than rehabilitated by punishment. There are those who think the same of human beings and this raises the same issues about how agents should be treated.

The purpose of deterrence is to motivate the agent who did the misdeed or other agents not to commit that deed. In the case of humans, people argue in favor of capital punishment because of its alleged deterrence value: if the state kills people for certain crimes, people are less likely to commit those crimes.

As with other forms of punishment, deterrence requires agency: the punished target must merit the punishment, and the other targets must be capable of changing their actions in response to that punishment.

Deterrence, obviously enough, does not work in regard to non-agents. For example, if a computer crashes and wipes out a file a person has been laboring on for hours, punishing it will not deter it. Smashing it in front of other computers will not deter them.

A machine that had agency could “earn” such punishment by its misdeeds and could, in theory, be deterred. The punishment could also deter other machines. For example, imagine a combat robot that performed poorly in its mission (or showed robo-cowardice). Punishing it could deter it from doing that again, it could serve as a warning, and thus a deterrence, to other combat robots.

Punishment for the sake of deterrence raises the same sort of issues as punishment aimed at rehabilitation, such as the notion that it might be preferable to repair machines that engage in misdeeds rather than punishing them. The main differences are, of course, that deterrence is not aimed at making the target inclined to behave well, just to disincline it from behaving badly and that deterrence is also aimed at those who have not committed the misdeed.

Philosophers have long speculated about autonomy and agency, but the development of autonomous systems has made such speculation even more important.  Keeping things simple, an autonomous system is capable of operating independent of direct human control. Autonomy comes in degrees of independence and complexity. It is the capacity for independent operation that distinguishes autonomous systems from those controlled externally.

Toys provide useful examples of this distinction. A wind-up mouse toy has some autonomy: once wound up and released, it can operate on its own until it runs down. A puppet, in contrast, has no autonomy as a puppeteer must control it.

Robots provide examples of more complex autonomous systems. Google’s driverless car is an example of an advanced autonomous machine. Once programmed and deployed, it might be able to drive itself to its destination. A normal car isa non-autonomous system as the driver controls it directly. Some machines allow both autonomous and non-autonomous operation. For example, there are drones that follow a program guiding them to a target and then an operator can take direct control.

Autonomy, at least in this context, is distinct from agency. Autonomy is the capacity to operate (in some degree) independently of direct control. Agency, at least in this context, is the capacity to be morally responsible for one’s actions. There is a connection between autonomy and moral agency as moral agency requires autonomy. After all, an entity whose actions are completely controlled externally would not be responsible for what it was made to do. For example, a puppet is not accountable for what the puppeteer makes it do. Likewise for remote controlled drones used to assassinate people.

While autonomy is necessary for agency, it is not sufficient. While all agents have some autonomy, not all autonomous entities are moral agents. A wind-up toy has a degree of autonomy but has no agency. A modern robot drone following a pre-programed flight-plan has a degree of autonomy but lacks agency. If it collided with a plane, it would not be morally responsible. The usual reason why such a machine would not be an agent is that it lacks the capacity to decide. Or put another way, it lacks freedom.  Since it cannot do otherwise, it is no more morally accountable than an earthquake or a super nova.

One obvious problem with basing agency on freedom (especially metaphysical free will) is that there is endless debate over this subject. There is also the epistemic problem of how one would know if an entity had such freedom and free will seems epistemically indistinguishable from a lack of free will.

As a practical matter, it is often just assumed people have the freedom needed to be agents. Kant famously took this approach. What he saw as the best science of his day indicated a deterministic universe devoid of metaphysical freedom. However, he contended that such freedom was needed for morality, so it should be accepted for this reason.

While humans are willing (generally) to attribute freedom and agency to other humans, there are good reasons to not attribute freedom and agency to autonomous machines even those that might be as complex as (or even more complex than) a human. The usual line of reasoning is that since such machines would be built and programmed by humans, they would do what they do because they are what they were made to be. This is in contrast to the agency of humans: humans, it is alleged, do what they do because they choose to do what they do.

This distinction between humans and suitably complex machines seems a mere prejudice favoring organic machines over mechanical machines. If a human was in a convincing robot costume and credibly presented as a robot while acting like a normal human, people would be inclined to deny that “it” had freedom and agency. If a robot was made to look and act just like a human, people would be inclined to grant it agency, at least until they learned it was “just” a machine. Then there would probably be an inclination to regard it as a very clever but unfree machine. An excellent fictional example of this is Harlan Ellison’s Demon With a Glass Hand.

 But it would not be known whether the human or the machine had the freedom alleged needed for agency. Fortunately, it is possible to have agency even without free will (but with a form of freedom).  The German philosopher Leibniz held the view that what each person will do is pre-established by their inner nature. On the face of it, this seems to entail there is no freedom: each person does what they do because of what they are—and they cannot do otherwise. Interestingly, Leibniz takes the view that people are free. However, he does not accept  a commonly held view that freedom requires actions that are unpredictable and spontaneous. Leibniz rejects this view in favor of the position that freedom is unimpeded self-development.

For Leibniz, being metaphysically without freedom would involve being controlled from the outside, like a puppet controlled by a puppeteer or a vehicle operated by remote control.  In contrast, freedom is acting from one’s values and character. This is what Leibniz and Taoists call “inner nature.” If a person is acting from this inner nature and not external coercion so that the action is the result of character, then that is all that can be meant by freedom. This view, which attempts to blend determinism and freedom, is known as compatibilism. On this view, humans have agency because they have the required degree of freedom and autonomy.

If this model works for humans, it could apply to autonomous machines. To the degree that a machine is operating in accord to its “inner nature” and is not operating under the control of outside factors, it would have agency.

An obvious objection is that an autonomous machine, however complex, would have been built and programmed (in the broad sense of the term) by humans. As such, it would be controlled and not free. The easy and obvious reply is that humans are “built” by other humans (by mating) and are “programmed” by humans via education and socialization. As such, if humans can be moral agents, then a machine could also be a moral agent.

From a moral standpoint, I would suggest a Moral Descartes’ Test (or a Moral Turing Test). Descartes argued that the sure proof of having a mind is a capacity to use true language. Turing later proposed a similar test involving the ability of a computer to pass as human via text communication. In the moral test, the test would be a judgment of moral agency: can the machine be as convincing as a human in its possession of agency? Naturally, a suitable means of concealing the fact that the being is a machine would be needed to prevent prejudice from affecting the judgment. The movie Blade Runner featured something similar, the Voight-Kampff test aimed at determining if the subject was a replicant or human. This test was based on the differences between humans and replicants in regard to emotions. In the case of moral agency, the test would have to be crafted to determine agency rather than to distinguish a human from machine, since the issue is not whether a machine is human but whether it has agency. A non-human moral agent might differ greatly from a human, and it should not be assumed that an agent must be human, and non-humans cannot be moral agents. The challenge is developing a test for moral agency. It would be interesting if humans could not pass it.

 

A Philosopher’s Blog 2025 brings together a year of sharp, accessible, and often provocative reflections on the moral, political, cultural, and technological challenges of contemporary life. Written by philosopher Michael LaBossiere, these essays move fluidly from the ethics of AI to the culture wars, from conspiracy theories to Dungeons & Dragons, from public policy to personal agency — always with clarity, humor, and a commitment to critical thinking.

Across hundreds of entries, LaBossiere examines the issues shaping our world:

  • AI, technology, and the future of humanity — from mind‑uploading to exoskeletons, deepfakes, and the fate of higher education
  • Politics, power, and public life — including voting rights, inequality, propaganda, and the shifting landscape of American democracy
  • Ethics in everyday life — guns, healthcare, charity, masculinity, inheritance, and the moral puzzles hidden in ordinary choices
  • Culture, identity, and conflict — racism, gender, religion, free speech, and the strange logic of modern outrage
  • Philosophy in unexpected places — video games, D&D, superheroes, time travel, and the metaphysics of fictional worlds

Whether he is dissecting the rhetoric of conspiracy theories, exploring the ethics of space mining, or reflecting on the death of a beloved dog, LaBossiere invites readers into a conversation that is rigorous without being rigid, principled without being preachy, and always grounded in the belief that philosophy is for everyone.

This collection is for readers who want more than hot takes — who want to understand how arguments work, why beliefs matter, and how to think more clearly in a world that rewards confusion.

Thoughtful, wide‑ranging, and often darkly funny, A Philosopher’s Blog 2025 is a companion for anyone trying to make sense of the twenty‑first century.

 

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