Confucian Ethics and the Predation Problem

Steve Cooke, author of the “Thrifty Philosopher” blog, in a recent installment entitled “Animal Rights & The Predation Problem” demonstrated the fallacy of attempting to devise a perfectly coherent, all-encompassing ethical philosophy––perhaps especially as regards a topic as diverse as the range of human relationships with animals, across the spectrum of species.

Even the most elegant ethical systems, when taken to logical extremes, lead to absurdities which contradict any normal person’s moral intuition. Examples include the utilitarian theoretical conclusion that a doctor should kill one healthy patient and harvest his organs to save six sick ones; Immanuel Kant’s deontological view that lying is evil even to protect others; or, in this case, that humans are morally obliged to kill predatory animals to save their prey, a perspective which has actually been enshrined in law at various times and places, albeit exempting predation by humans. The agency now known as USDA Wildlife Services, for instance, was originally formed in 1930 as Animal Damage Control, with a mandate to kill wild predators simply because predators kill livestock and hunted species.

Physicists struggle to map universal rules for physical phenomena. The rules they have found mostly take the form of complex mathematical formulae which are believed to be approximately true only under certain conditions. And it is often said that the human brain is the most complex physical system known to exist. Is it not vanity, then, to think that such lofty, abstract things as human thoughts, values, and ideals can be neatly confined to simple logical propositions?

The Japanese Confucian scholar Okada Takehiko, when asked by University of Colorado professor of religious studies Rodney Taylor in 1983 to comment on the issue of animal experimentation and whether it is justified to sacrifice animal lives in developing treatments that might benefit a far greater number of humans, suggested an alternative to relying on rigidly formulated ethical codes in making moral decisions:

“The idea of unlimited use of animals as well as the position that no animals may be used, both of these are extreme ideas. With the mind that cannot bear to see the suffering of others, the problem will resolve itself. In some cases we need to differentiate between man and animals. In other cases it is important to see man and animals as the same. Thus the cases themselves change, and we need to be able to respond to such circumstances based on the mind that cannot bear to see the suffering of others.”

Confucian ethical philosophy, which bears some resemblance to Aristotelian virtue ethics in the West, holds that the human conscience––not the rational mind or some external agent such as a deity––is the origin of morality. Thus ethical decisions are best made not primarily through logic, but by cultivating one’s own moral intuition, with logic playing an important but secondary role in the practices of moral self-improvement.

If one practices virtues such as honesty, compassion, and respect in daily life, one will over time become an intrinsically virtuous person. As such, faced with an extreme moral dilemma, one will thus be capable of acting intuitively and making a responsible decision without necessarily relying on logical argumentation.

For Okada, the solution to moral dilemmas involving animals begins not with whether or not animals have intrinsic “rights,” but with the truth that most humans naturally empathize with the suffering of others, including animals––even if this empathy is often blunted or destroyed through cultural conditioning and desensitization.

Just as a Confucian-inspired ethical approach to animal experimentation would begin with a cultivated sense of compassion for both the people and animals involved, the answer to the “predation problem” lies in empathizing not just with the fleeing prey animal, but also with the hungry predator and the entire ecosystem of interconnected creatures of which both are a part.

From this perspective, it would be ethically consistent both to compassionately minimize one’s own exploitation of animals, which may involve anything from subsistence hunting to strict veganism depending on living conditions and resource availability, and to avoid policing nature by interfering with other creatures’ predation of one another.

Also relevant is the issue of associative duties, which Cooke dismisses but Confucianism accepts on the basis that a sense of kinship, and of greater obligation to those closest to oneself, is a natural element of human moral intuition.

A compassionate decision concerning animal experimentation or predation does not necessarily require equal compassion for all parties. Accepted societal obligations toward other humans, not shared with animals in nature, or a special relationship to a given prey animal, for example a pet one feels obligated to protect from coyotes, would also carry weight in a cultivated Confucian moral decision.

But feeling greater responsibility toward one party does not mean one should feel zero responsibility to the other. Even if human health is judged to take priority, that doesn’t mean one should not also work to minimize the use of experimental animals and their suffering. Even if one is obliged to protect his or her dog or cat against a coyote, that does not justify killing the predator if other options are available.

Admittedly this is a very subjective approach to ethics, but it does not require abandoning more logically rigorous philosophical thought. Even in virtue ethics philosophies, the selection of virtues to cultivate is largely guided by rational calculation. Within the legal sphere, which requires clearly-defined rules and penalties equally applicable to everyone, it is certainly safer to base laws on a strict system of ethical maxims than to trust lawmakers and enforcers to always cultivate and follow their own consciences.

Nonetheless, even the most systematic ethical codes are the product of human thought and thus intrinsically subjective and subject to error when applied dogmatically. Inevitably there are exceptions to every rule. This is why juries exist in courtrooms, to provide an element of conscience to correct for the limitations of the law. Confucian writings offer some intriguing proposals for a system of government rooted in moral self-cultivation, but do not disregard the need for consistent governance.

In exercising personal morality, it is best to acknowledge the intrinsic subjectivity of ethics, rather than treating any ethical code as absolute and inviolable. Confucian philosophy teaches how, by practicing virtue in our daily lives, we can develop a moral intuition rooted in––rather than weakened by––such subjectivity, and capable of acting in difficult situations even when philosophy falls short.

This requires the courage to act even when the path is not clear-cut, the humility to admit mistakes and accept that even the best possible decisions may not yield perfect results, and respect for the moral intuition of others who, acting on their own best instincts, may make different choices than oneself.




Confucian Ethics and the Predation Problem

Steve Cooke, author of the “Thrifty Philosopher” blog, in a recent installment entitled “Animal Rights & The Predation Problem” demonstrated the fallacy of attempting to devise a perfectly coherent, all-encompassing ethical philosophy––perhaps especially as regards a topic as diverse as the range of human relationships with animals, across the spectrum of species.

Even the most elegant ethical systems, when taken to logical extremes, lead to absurdities which contradict any normal person’s moral intuition. Examples include the utilitarian theoretical conclusion that a doctor should kill one healthy patient and harvest his organs to save six sick ones; Immanuel Kant’s deontological view that lying is evil even to protect others; or, in this case, that humans are morally obliged to kill predatory animals to save their prey, a perspective which has actually been enshrined in law at various times and places, albeit exempting predation by humans. The agency now known as USDA Wildlife Services, for instance, was originally formed in 1930 as Animal Damage Control, with a mandate to kill wild predators simply because predators kill livestock and hunted species.

Physicists struggle to map universal rules for physical phenomena. The rules they have found mostly take the form of complex mathematical formulae which are believed to be approximately true only under certain conditions. And it is often said that the human brain is the most complex physical system known to exist. Is it not vanity, then, to think that such lofty, abstract things as human thoughts, values, and ideals can be neatly confined to simple logical propositions?

The Japanese Confucian scholar Okada Takehiko, when asked by University of Colorado professor of religious studies Rodney Taylor in 1983 to comment on the issue of animal experimentation and whether it is justified to sacrifice animal lives in developing treatments that might benefit a far greater number of humans, suggested an alternative to relying on rigidly formulated ethical codes in making moral decisions:

“The idea of unlimited use of animals as well as the position that no animals may be used, both of these are extreme ideas. With the mind that cannot bear to see the suffering of others, the problem will resolve itself. In some cases we need to differentiate between man and animals. In other cases it is important to see man and animals as the same. Thus the cases themselves change, and we need to be able to respond to such circumstances based on the mind that cannot bear to see the suffering of others.”

Confucian ethical philosophy, which bears some resemblance to Aristotelian virtue ethics in the West, holds that the human conscience––not the rational mind or some external agent such as a deity––is the origin of morality. Thus ethical decisions are best made not primarily through logic, but by cultivating one’s own moral intuition, with logic playing an important but secondary role in the practices of moral self-improvement.

If one practices virtues such as honesty, compassion, and respect in daily life, one will over time become an intrinsically virtuous person. As such, faced with an extreme moral dilemma, one will thus be capable of acting intuitively and making a responsible decision without necessarily relying on logical argumentation.

For Okada, the solution to moral dilemmas involving animals begins not with whether or not animals have intrinsic “rights,” but with the truth that most humans naturally empathize with the suffering of others, including animals––even if this empathy is often blunted or destroyed through cultural conditioning and desensitization.

Just as a Confucian-inspired ethical approach to animal experimentation would begin with a cultivated sense of compassion for both the people and animals involved, the answer to the “predation problem” lies in empathizing not just with the fleeing prey animal, but also with the hungry predator and the entire ecosystem of interconnected creatures of which both are a part.

From this perspective, it would be ethically consistent both to compassionately minimize one’s own exploitation of animals, which may involve anything from subsistence hunting to strict veganism depending on living conditions and resource availability, and to avoid policing nature by interfering with other creatures’ predation of one another.

Also relevant is the issue of associative duties, which Cooke dismisses but Confucianism accepts on the basis that a sense of kinship, and of greater obligation to those closest to oneself, is a natural element of human moral intuition.

A compassionate decision concerning animal experimentation or predation does not necessarily require equal compassion for all parties. Accepted societal obligations toward other humans, not shared with animals in nature, or a special relationship to a given prey animal, for example a pet one feels obligated to protect from coyotes, would also carry weight in a cultivated Confucian moral decision.

But feeling greater responsibility toward one party does not mean one should feel zero responsibility to the other. Even if human health is judged to take priority, that doesn’t mean one should not also work to minimize the use of experimental animals and their suffering. Even if one is obliged to protect his or her dog or cat against a coyote, that does not justify killing the predator if other options are available.

Admittedly this is a very subjective approach to ethics, but it does not require abandoning more logically rigorous philosophical thought. Even in virtue ethics philosophies, the selection of virtues to cultivate is largely guided by rational calculation. Within the legal sphere, which requires clearly-defined rules and penalties equally applicable to everyone, it is certainly safer to base laws on a strict system of ethical maxims than to trust lawmakers and enforcers to always cultivate and follow their own consciences.

Nonetheless, even the most systematic ethical codes are the product of human thought and thus intrinsically subjective and subject to error when applied dogmatically. Inevitably there are exceptions to every rule. This is why juries exist in courtrooms, to provide an element of conscience to correct for the limitations of the law. Confucian writings offer some intriguing proposals for a system of government rooted in moral self-cultivation, but do not disregard the need for consistent governance.

In exercising personal morality, it is best to acknowledge the intrinsic subjectivity of ethics, rather than treating any ethical code as absolute and inviolable. Confucian philosophy teaches how, by practicing virtue in our daily lives, we can develop a moral intuition rooted in––rather than weakened by––such subjectivity, and capable of acting in difficult situations even when philosophy falls short.

This requires the courage to act even when the path is not clear-cut, the humility to admit mistakes and accept that even the best possible decisions may not yield perfect results, and respect for the moral intuition of others who, acting on their own best instincts, may make different choices than oneself.




Do Animal Rights Entail Animal Responsibilities?

A philosophical exercise…




Do Animal Rights Entail Animal Responsibilities?

A philosophical exercise…




Political Philosophies Series: Are You An Anarchist?

David Graeber

The Answer May Surprise You”  is food for thought regarding what is possible. Via the Anarchist Library:

Many people seem to think that anarchists are proponents of violence, chaos, and destruction, that they are against all forms of order and organization, or that they are crazed nihilists who just want to blow everything up. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth. Anarchists are simply people who believe human beings are capable of behaving in a reasonable fashion without having to be forced to. It is really a very simple notion. But it’s one that the rich and powerful have always found extremely dangerous.

At their very simplest, anarchist beliefs turn on to two elementary assumptions. The first is that human beings are, under ordinary circumstances, about as reasonable and decent as they are allowed to be, and can organize themselves and their communities without needing to be told how. The second is that power corrupts. Most of all, anarchism is just a matter of having the courage to take the simple principles of common decency that we all live by, and to follow them through to their logical conclusions. Odd though this may seem, in most important ways you are probably already an anarchist — you just don’t realize it.

Let’s start by taking a few examples from everyday life:

If there’s a line to get on a crowded bus, do you wait your turn and refrain from elbowing your way past others even in the absence of police?

If you answered “yes”, then you are used to acting like an anarchist! The most basic anarchist principle is self-organization: the assumption that human beings do not need to be threatened with prosecution in order to be able to come to reasonable understandings with each other, or to treat each other with dignity and respect.

Everyone believes they are capable of behaving reasonably themselves. If they think laws and police are necessary, it is only because they don’t believe that other people are. But if you think about it, don’t those people all feel exactly the same way about you? Anarchists argue that almost all the anti-social behavior which makes us think it’s necessary to have armies, police, prisons, and governments to control our lives, is actually caused by the systematic inequalities and injustice those armies, police, prisons and governments make possible. It’s all a vicious circle. If people are used to being treated like their opinions do not matter, they are likely to become angry and cynical, even violent – which of course makes it easy for those in power to say that their opinions do not matter. Once they understand that their opinions really do matter just as much as anyone else’s, they tend to become remarkably understanding. To cut a long story short: anarchists believe that for the most part it is power itself, and the effects of power, that make people stupid and irresponsible.

Are you a member of a club or sports team or any other voluntary organization where decisions are not imposed by one leader but made on the basis of general consent?

If you answered “yes”, then you belong to an organization which works on anarchist principles! Another basic anarchist principle is voluntary association. This is simply a matter of applying democratic principles to ordinary life. The only difference is that anarchists believe it should be possible to have a society in which everything could be organized along these lines, all groups based on the free consent of their members, and therefore, that all top-down, military styles of organization like armies or bureaucracies or large corporations, based on chains of command, would no longer be necessary. Perhaps you don’t believe that would be possible. Perhaps you do. But every time you reach an agreement by consensus, rather than threats, every time you make a voluntary arrangement with another person, come to an understanding, or reach a compromise by taking due consideration of the other person’s particular situation or needs, you are being an anarchist — even if you don’t realize it.

Anarchism is just the way people act when they are free to do as they choose, and when they deal with others who are equally free — and therefore aware of the responsibility to others that entails. This leads to another crucial point: that while people can be reasonable and considerate when they are dealing with equals, human nature is such that they cannot be trusted to do so when given power over others. Give someone such power, they will almost invariably abuse it in some way or another.

Do you believe that most politicians are selfish, egotistical swine who don’t really care about the public interest? Do you think we live in an economic system which is stupid and unfair?

If you answered “yes”, then you subscribe to the anarchist critique of today’s society – at least, in its broadest outlines. Anarchists believe that power corrupts and those who spend their entire lives seeking power are the very last people who should have it. Anarchists believe that our present economic system is more likely to reward people for selfish and unscrupulous behavior than for being decent, caring human beings. Most people feel that way. The only difference is that most people don’t think there’s anything that can be done about it, or anyway — and this is what the faithful servants of the powerful are always most likely to insist — anything that won’t end up making things even worse.

But what if that weren’t true?

And is there really any reason to believe this? When you can actually test them, most of the usual predictions about what would happen without states or capitalism turn out to be entirely untrue. For thousands of years people lived without governments. In many parts of the world people live outside of the control of governments today. They do not all kill each other. Mostly they just get on about their lives the same as anyone else would. Of course, in a complex, urban, technological society all this would be more complicated: but technology can also make all these problems a lot easier to solve. In fact, we have not even begun to think about what our lives could be like if technology were really marshaled to fit human needs. How many hours would we really need to work in order to maintain a functional society — that is, if we got rid of all the useless or destructive occupations like telemarketers, lawyers, prison guards, financial analysts, public relations experts, bureaucrats and politicians, and turn our best scientific minds away from working on space weaponry or stock market systems to mechanizing away dangerous or annoying tasks like coal mining or cleaning the bathroom, and distribute the remaining work among everyone equally? Five hours a day? Four? Three? Two? Nobody knows because no one is even asking this kind of question. Anarchists think these are the very questions we should be asking.

Do you really believe those things you tell your children (or that your parents told you)?

It doesn’t matter who started it.” “Two wrongs don’t make a right.” “Clean up your own mess.” “Do unto others …” “Don’t be mean to people just because they’re different.” Perhaps we should decide whether we’re lying to our children when we tell them about right and wrong, or whether we’re willing to take our own injunctions seriously. Because if you take these moral principles to their logical conclusions, you arrive at anarchism.

Do you believe that human beings are fundamentally corrupt and evil, or that certain sorts of people (women, people of color, ordinary folk who are not rich or highly educated) are inferior specimens, destined to be ruled by their betters?

If you answered “yes”, then, well, it looks like you aren’t an anarchist after all. But if you answered “no’, then chances are you already subscribe to 90% of anarchist principles, and, likely as not, are living your life largely in accord with them. Every time you treat another human with consideration and respect, you are being an anarchist. Every time you work out your differences with others by coming to reasonable compromise, listening to what everyone has to say rather than letting one person decide for everyone else, you are being an anarchist. Every time you have the opportunity to force someone to do something, but decide to appeal to their sense of reason or justice instead, you are being an anarchist. The same goes for every time you share something with a friend, or decide who is going to do the dishes, or do anything at all with an eye to fairness.

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