Everyday Ethics

Modern society has a somewhat puzzling view concerning treatment of animals.  Pet animals are seen as de facto members of our families, yet the very same animals are also used for research, product testing, and agriculture.  Most people spend very little time thinking about the reasons for the relationship that humans have with animals, and it is often simply assumed that our tendency to exploit animals is justified in some way.  However, careful consideration of reasons for the view that we hold makes the obvious appropriateness of this relationship far less clear.

Religious arguments notwithstanding, most reasons for why exploitative treatment of animals is justified centers around some claim of superior intelligence.  However, in addition to studying philosophical arguments that deny the moral significance of this difference, I recently had a rather telling series of experiences which illustrates the trouble with justifying harm on the basis of greater intelligence.  In short, I learned that my cat is actually smarter than your baby.

The first part of this realization came while I was sitting with my wife, watching a group of children in a playground.  A young child, no older than 18 months, was playing with a football.  More accurately, he was dropping, carrying, and picking up the football in a manner that looked pretty boring, but that he found enthralling.  At one point, his football rolled under a slide, just out of his immediate reach.  He went through a series of attempts to grab it, including leaning forward and bashing his head on the slide, kneeling and resting his head against the slide that still blocked his reach, and finally realizing that crawling would allow him to get the football back.

This seemed to be a rather obvious example of rudimentary problem solving, and the difficulties that this young child displayed was something of an indicator of his knowledge and intelligence.  Later that evening, under similar conditions, I watched my cat attempt to get a toy that was stuck under our coffee table.  Unlike the toddler, my cat was quickly able to figure out exactly how to get the toy.  He moved deliberately from one side of the table to the other, and there was an apparent purpose to his movement.  He did not appear to be simply trying different strategies, as the toddler did, but examining the situation and making moves to achieve his goal. 

The trouble here, is that if I want to claim that superior human intelligence makes it okay to treat animals badly, it seems that I can construct the same argument for treating a baby better than my cat.  If being smarter means I must place greater limits upon how I treat you, and my cat is smarter than your baby, there are things I can do to your baby that I can’t do to my cat. 

Hopefully this conclusion causes some raised eyebrows, and we might be wise to conclude that intelligence is not a good measure of moral considerability.  If we choose not to give this up, we must support the conclusion that my cat has greater moral significance than your baby.  It does not really matter what you choose to do, but you cannot hold that we can exploit animals because we are smarter than them, and also claim that the baby is of greater moral significance than my cat. 

This type of tactic is helpful in explicating exactly what our moral reasoning leads us to.  It is also a telling illustration of the world-as-teacher that is central to everyday ethics.  While our socially supported beliefs and unexamined notions of morality claim that it is okay to treat animals as means to our ends because we are smarter than them, the world has other ideas in mind.  By watching, listening, and pondering, we can move beyond our flawed moral conceptions and develop a greater understanding of what moral beliefs truly make sense.  

     It’s always fun to go back and read your own work.  I often look back at articles that I have written and wonder “why did I say that?” or “that doesn’t even make sense.”  Occasionally, I impress myself, which is fun.  And sometimes, I am forced to admit a deficiency in my own writing, in this case the fact that I tend to use the terms “ethics” and “morals” interchangeably, when they are not the same thing.  One evening, seeking a deeper level of personal clarity, I dove into the shallow pond of the internet to attempt to solidify this subtle but important distinction in my own mind.  The results, presented here, were rather surprising. 
     According to Dictionary.com, ethics is a system of moral principles, while morals are principles of right and wrong conduct.  This seems simple enough.  Ethics is a framework, a systemic and reasoned basis for making statements about morality.  Morals are simply what we believe to be right and wrong.  There appears to be a clear distinction here that ethics are more sophisticated than morals.  Morally, one can support almost anything, while ethically we require reason and justification for what we believe.  When a doctor violates a certain behavioral standard, this is an ethics violation rather than a moral one.  This individual has violated a reason based, systemic code of conduct that is held in mutually high esteem by all physicians.  If we were to call this individual’s actions unethical, we are making a statement about his or her conduct relative to the standards of his profession.  If we were to call such actions immoral, we are simply saying that we consider this behavior to be wrong. 
     I thought I had this figured out until I tried to explain it to my wife, who promptly crushed my argument by pointing out that in describing ethics, I was using the word moral and continuing to interchange these terms with no regard for specifics.  I was frustrated, upset even.  I’m a philosopher by trade, for crying out loud.  I should know this, this is easy!  In fact it is not so easy and is made more complicated by the context in which the terms are used.  But wait, there is more.
     As my confusion continued, I dived back into the electronic abyss and typed “morality” and “ethics” into Thesaurus.com.  According to this site, morality is beliefs regarding appropriate behavior, while ethics is the formal study of morality.  This seemed okay, until I realized that using this definition, unethical would mean un-formal study of morality.  Sorry, what?  Clearly that won’t work either.  I decided to play with this inversion concept, and deduced that when something is unethical, it goes against a system of morality, such as utilitarianism.  If something is immoral, it is morally objectionable or simply wrong.
     It seems that this distinction is actually made more complicated by referring to linguistics-based references.  Both of the above sites, as well as Merriam-Webster.com listed morals and ethics as synonyms for one another, even though their definitions make it clear that they are not the same thing.  Further research showed an even greater variety of opinion, often with the consistent theme that ethics are systemic, while morals are simply beliefs about right and wrong.  One site went so far as to suggest that morals are subjective while ethics are objective and come from the Christian God.  The things we find on Google.  In any event, my hope is to find a way to clearly and distinctly designate between ethics and morals without finding myself perched atop a high balcony and considering my own mortality.  Here goes nothing….
     Morals, quite simply, are beliefs about right and wrong conduct.  They are often based on sociological conditions and learned behavior, but not always.  They do not require reason, consistency, or thorough analysis in their initial shaping or practical application.  One can make a statement about morals without making a statement about ethics.  If something is immoral, it may or may not be appropriate to call it unethical.  I can believe that lying is wrong because my grandmother told me it was, and that is what I believe.  No further justification is required.  Ethics, on the other hand, is a reason based, cumulative system of moral decision making.  It is built upon one or a few basic principles and requires that we be thorough, honest, and comprehensive in making statements about right and wrong.  Ethics is about building the kind of world we want to live in, and developing a consistent process by which to achieve this.  Ethics is an advanced expression of morality.
     For example, let us say that I believe abortion is wrong because all human life is valuable, but I also believe that we should punish murderers by putting them to death.  These points of view could be held simultaneously from a position of simple moral belief, but would at a minimum require additional justification before being accepted as a reasonable ethical position.  Morality is simply a statement about right and wrong.  Abortion is wrong, the death penalty is right. (This is just an example, I do not really think this.)  Moral belief does not require that we are reasonable or justified, but ethics does.  An ethicist would have to deal with the contradiction regarding value of human life that is created by holding these positions simultaneously.

Still confused?  Join the club. 

It is a commonly held belief that it is very natural for men to look at other women with a degree of sexual interest despite their involvement in a monogamous relationship.  This activity is often rationalized as “just being a guy” or some other cliché statement.  I do not know if this practice is common among all humans, but it appears to be a significant part of the modern male socialization process.  You are a man, you look at women who you think are attractive, and this is perfectly acceptable because it is an inherent part of your male nature. 

I must admit a degree of guilt in this practice, and I too cite socialization as the root cause of this behavior.  But having found myself in a committed relationship with my wife, my perspective has shifted slightly.  I know from discussing the issue with her that my wife finds this behavior both hurtful and personally offensive.  I feel that it is only appropriate to respond to this by making a conscious and concerted effort to refrain from “scanning the field”, so to speak. 

This is challenging at times, as it has been a very natural behavior for some time, but I find that not only is it an action that can be corrected with relative ease, but that I feel a degree of satisfaction that I am able to not only act, but also to think in an ethical and moral way.  Many would call this behavior uptight, ridiculous, or even “whipped.”  The common cultural defense is that men who engage in this habit are “just looking” and not truly harming anyone.  But is that defense valid?

 In my own particular case, the answer to such a question is obvious.  I am aware that my wife is hurt by this behavior.  In addition, I find it personally dissatisfying to objectify other women, and I am confident that they might also feel that way if they were fully aware of the situation.  There is no apparent beneficiary to such behavior, at least in my own situation, so a utilitarian assessment would suggest that it is not ethical for me to eyeball other women.  But what of the defense that such behavior is harmless, that ogling or fantasizing about women is acceptable because it exists only in thought and not in action. 

This too is a fallacy.  If I only think about killing someone, or imagine killing them, but don’t actually complete the act of killing them, are my thoughts and fantasies morally acceptable because they are not actions?  This is clearly absurd, and this line of reasoning eliminates the rationalization that it is morally acceptable to think about women as sexual objects while one is in a committed relationship because this action occurs in thought only.  But what of the unattached male?  Is he justified in his objectifying since he does not have to worry about the hurt caused to his significant other? 

Again, the answer is no.  Such actions are hurtful to those who are objectified, whether they are aware of the practice or not.  In addition, thoughts develop into attitudes, and over time an attitude of objectifying women leads to a laundry list of potential victims of the accompanying behaviors.  Thus, there is a strong utilitarian argument against this practice.  Finally, when we think about ethics it is important to remember the importance of our intent as well as our actions. 

The Buddha spoke of right thought as a key component to one’s enlightenment, and the idea that thought can be moral or immoral is significant to many Western thinkers as well.  While I must concede that the thought of objectifying females is a degree below the act of doing so, it is unethical nonetheless, and the morally righteous person should make an effort to act appropriately in word, deed, and thought. 

In a recent article, we discussed the role of philosophical rhetoric in moral deliberation, and the way in which both of this election’s presidential candidates demonstrate some positive and negative attributes in their rhetorical styles.  But we haven’t said much about why the very nature of rhetoric is so frustrating, and can sometimes play a negative part in moral decision-making.

The history of rhetoric begins with the Sophists of ancient Greece.  The Sophists held that truth was ultimately unknowable, therefore what we regard as truth is a subjective activity that is relative to the speaker.  From this, they concluded that rhetoric, not philosophical wisdom, was the most important thing to cultivate.  Since one could never know the objective truth about anything, the logical response to this situation is to focus on convincing others that your views are correct.

We clearly see this sort of focus in political rhetoric, as political candidates are clearly more concerned with winning the election than with portraying their views as honestly as possible.  In fact, many politicians will typically conceal their actual views in order to present themselves in a way that is conducive to winning.  This is horribly frustrating for the voter, who is trying to choose a candidate based on who they actually are, not just how they portray themselves.

This is highly problematic in the moral realm as well.  Moral rhetoric can certainly be a powerful tool in convincing others that your view is the correct one.  However, one hopes that this effort reflects a view that your position actually is correct, rather than merely a belief that you can argue for it well.

Consider the following example.  Abortion is a hot-button topic in the moral arena.  Arguments can be given on both sides for why one view is the correct one.  However, most of us assume that people who argue for either a pro-life or a pro-choice view think that they are correct.  It would be puzzling to find that pro-lifers (or pro-choicers) didn’t actually think their view was correct, but did think they could convince others that it was.

This points out an important distinction between political and moral rhetoric.  In political rhetoric, focusing on winning is inherent in the nature of political campaigns.  But in the moral realm, rhetoric ought to be used to defend views that you think are right, not only the ones that you think you can defend well.  In our own moral deliberations, we should be careful to hold this distinction.  The purpose of moral rhetoric is not to win, but to defend right views, and losing sight of this can be detrimental to productive moral interactions.

Morality seems like the sort of thing that involves individual action.  We ask questions about what individuals ought to do, or how persons ought to be treated.  However, the role of communities in ethical deliberations should not be understated, and our own ethical decision-making can be enhanced by thinking about the ways that communities might play a role in solving our moral dilemmas.

Communities typically provide guidelines for how we ought to treat other people.  Even if you think morality is something that humans make up, you still have to be sensitive to the moral norms of your community if you want to avoid various interpersonal problems.  In many instances, we can begin to evaluate ethical dilemmas by considering how our community typically views the situation in question.  From this, we can ask deeper questions about whether this view is the right one.  So looking at community norms can be a good way to jump-start our ethical decision-making.

In addition to providing some degree of moral guidance, communities are sometimes the sorts of things that ought to be given moral consideration.  For example, immigration continues to be a red-hot political issue here in the United States, and the diversity of views about it is nearly as substantial as the diversity of the immigrant community itself.  It’s important to note, however, that when we talk about immigration policies, we are not only talking about how individual immigrants ought to be treated.  We are also asking questions about how immigrants ought to be treated as a community.  We ought to think about the impact of our actions upon immigrants as a group, rather than focusing only on the impact our policies may have on individuals.

Finally, communities can be the sorts of things that are bound by certain moral obligations.  For example, throughout our nation’s history, certain groups have victimized other groups for a variety of silly reasons.  An argument can be made that the community of the oppressor has an obligation to right the wrongs enacted upon the oppressed.  Many individuals balk at this, claiming that their ancestors, not themselves, are responsible for these atrocities.  This point fails to recognize the community aspect of such issues.  It seems odd to say that white individuals are obligated to right the wrongs of slavery for black individuals.  But there is something different about the claim that the white community has a debt to pay to the black community.  Talking only about individuals in these cases largely misses the most relevant point being made.

Hopefully our discussion has illuminated some ways that the community is a relevant aspect of our moral deliberation.  The community serves as a provider of moral guidelines, as well as the recipient and bearer of moral duties.  The next time that we are faced with a moral decision, it is important that we remember to consider the relevant community-based considerations.  If we fail to do this, we may miss something important. 

As a graduate student at CSU, I’m a pretty busy guy most of the time.  In addition to multiple classes and working on a thesis, I also tutor undergraduates in philosophy, work as a teaching assistant for a world philosophies course, and I’m working on PhD applications.  On top of all that, I maintain this website and recently co-organized a philosophy conference at CSU.  That’s a lot of stuff to keep up with, and I occasionally get bogged down and lose sight of my priorities.

One substantial priority that can get lost in the scuffle is spending time with my wife.  Despite all the stuff mentioned above, this is, or at least ought to be, my number one priority.  Sometimes this means I wake up early and get work done so that we can hang out in the evening.  Other times it means passing on other activities and doing stuff with her.  Either way, spending time together is something that requires effort and attention.  It doesn’t just happen.

What does all this have to do with ethics?  Morality is a reflection of what we value, and values include priorities.  If I value time with my wife more than I value writing this blog, this suggests that in a situation where I have to pick one thing or the other, I ought to choose spending time with my wife.  We often find ourselves in trouble morally when our choices don’t reflect our value priorities.
Take the following example.  Let’s say your workplace is very lax in keeping an inventory of office supplies.  Many individuals take things home, and no one ever gets caught, because nobody is really paying attention.  Say your co-workers have noticed that you don’t ever participate in this activity, and they are concerned that you may blow the whistle on them.  They confront you as a group and demand that you steal something.  It will make them feel more at ease, and ensure that you are indeed “one of the gang.”

There are several priorities here that are relevant.  First, most people like to feel accepted by their co-workers, and nobody enjoys being perceived as the company snitch.  In addition, if people don’t trust you, it may make aspects of your job difficult where you have to work with these individuals, as there may be animosity or ill treatment associated with their lack of trust.  Hopefully you also prioritize honesty, which probably includes not stealing stuff even though you will get away with it.

This is a tough situation because there is a great deal of social pressure encouraging the theft, and many of the things you value would be satisfied by this act.  However, most people place a high priority on doing the right thing and being a decent person.  Perhaps this is optimistic, but I continue to hope that most people want to be good; they just don’t know how to do it.  In any event, although this situation is value-laden, some of the most important values involved are self-development and personal integrity.

Here we have a direct parallel to the prioritizing of time with my wife.  The situation involves many things that I value, but one value is clearly most important, and the prioritizing of values helps make it clear what ought to be done.  Sometimes doing the right thing can be as simple as answering the question “Which of these things is most important?”

Traveling by air has rapidly transformed from a moderately affordable activity to something that most cannot typically afford.  I am currently attempting to book a trip to Roanoke, Virginia for the Virginia Tech Philosophy Conference.  After much frustration due to not finding a reasonable flight price, I opted to contact a travel agent.  Unbeknownst to me, what I really contacted was a pending ethical dilemma.

I’m not entirely sure what travel agents do that regular people are not equally capable of doing.  My travel agent was somehow able to locate a flight to Roanoke that was far less expensive than those that I could find on even the most affordably priced discount travel websites.  However, my dilemma emerged when the travel agent sent me a tentative itinerary that included the reservation code.  Her quoted price was $420, while the price listed on the reservation said $385.

My dilemma was twofold.  First, if my flight costs $385, does it really make sense for me to pay her $420 just for finding this flight for me?  There seemed to be some questionable ethics on her part, as $35 seems like a lot of money for some online searching that cannot have taken more than half an hour. 

The other side of the dilemma is that since I have the itinerary, including flight numbers and a reservation code, why couldn’t I just book this myself, and cut her fee out of the picture?  The added fact that she was trying to charge me $35 for finding this and booking it made me feel somehow justified in taking the information and running. 

This scenario points to a common challenge in our ethical deliberations.  When we feel that we are being wronged, we often feel justified in committing wrongs in return.  This is a perfectly reasonable psychological response, but it does not make the action that it motivates okay.  We need to be able to feel upset by the wrongdoings of others without that leading to immoral actions on our part. 

Although the exorbitant fee associated with my travel plans upsets me, it would not be right for me to usurp my travel agent’s interests and book the same flight on my own.  The fact remains that she did do some work to make this happen, and by using the information without compensating her, I am essentially stealing.  No one would dispute the wrongness of stealing, and our sense of being victimized does not dramatically change the wrongness of the act.  As the old saying goes, two wrongs don’t make a right.  This situation and many others just like it are no exception.  

Most people agree that it is important to do what is right.  In fact, we somewhat take for granted that it takes time to be ethical.  Morality is not always a simple task, and we need time to contemplate possible scenarios in order to figure out what we ought to do in a particular situation.  Being morally good people is a time commitment.

In a previous article on our old site, Mindful Source, we talked about the ethical significance of being organized.  However, if we are to emphasize the importance of finding the time to be ethical, we ought to offer some more significant guidance than merely telling people to get organized.  Thus, the following are a few key tips to help you find the time to do what is morally right.

First and most importantly, finding the time to be ethical requires that we be mindful of what choices are properly ethical ones, as well as what aspects of our choices are morally relevant.  People spend a great deal of time applying moral reasoning to issues that are practical, social, or political, but not necessarily moral.  By separating the moral from the nonmoral, we can save a lot of wasted time spent thinking about issues that are not really moral ones.

Next, being ethical requires that we take our time and avoid being too hurried in our decision-making.  Good moral choices require careful deliberation and thoughtful reflection, and this cannot be done properly when one is rushed.  The connection between organization and good moral choices again becomes relevant here, as being organized will allow one more time for reflective thinking.

Finally, being ethical requires that we are firm in our decision-making.  Openness to changing our mind is an important part of the choice-making process, but once the time has come to make a choice, one should not spend an excess of time second-guessing a decision that has already been made.  If something leads you to specifically question whether a particular choice was ethical or not, that is one thing.  However, a good deal of time can be saved by eliminating the excessive self-doubt that plagues many of us.  Once a choice has been made, if it seems like it was the right choice, be confident that it probably was, and move on.

Being mindful, taking our time, and being firm in our decision-making are all interesting strategies, in that they do not necessarily lead to our having more time than we already do.  What these strategies do allow for is the reallocation of time that is not being used optimally, as well as orientating us in such a way that we maximize the productivity of time that we do have to think about morality.  By being more efficient, better focused, and avoiding time wasters, we can more readily find the time to be ethical.  

After watching the last presidential debate between Barack Obama and John McCain, I think its only appropriate to say something about rhetoric, and how it applies to our everyday ethical practices.  Luckily, these two candidates offer a great starting point for conversation, as they both do certain things very well, and other things very poorly.  Before considering this, however, we ought to say something about what rhetoric is and why it is important for everyday ethics. 

 Rhetoric is the art of persuasive speaking.  If one person is attempting to convince another that a particular point of view is the right one, they are engaged in rhetoric.  The debates, and political speeches in general, are great examples of rhetoric.  If there is one thing that all politicians have in common, it is that they are always trying to convince other people that their views are right.  In the case of the debate, they are not trying to convince one another, but they are definitely trying to convince the viewers at home that their views are the best ones, and that this warrants a vote for them.

Rhetoric is also an important part of our everyday moral interaction.  It is often the case that our moral decisions are group decisions, rather than individual ones.  Your company might be considering an aggressive approach to some significant issue that is likely to make life difficult for other businesses and the people who own them.  You might disagree with your spouse about the morally preferable way to solve a shared problem.  Group decision-making is a significant part of our moral lives, and rhetoric is a powerful tool in presenting your case convincingly and effectively.

This brings us to our presidential candidates.  Politics aside, Obama and McCain both have some interesting strengths and weaknesses with regard to rhetoric.  McCain seems much better at demonstrating passion and conviction, but far worse at controlling his anger and frustration.  Obama is a master of calm, reflective replies, but sometimes appears aloof and unengaged.  The principles of everyday ethics say that we ought to glean some valuable information from this, and it is to this task that we now turn.

If the positive qualities of McCain and Obama are passion and calm thoughtfulness, it seems that our own rhetoric should seek to demonstrate these qualities.  If an ethical matter is really important to us, we should defend it with gusto.  Our audience should know that we care.  But we should remain calm and collected at the same time, engaging our emotions without letting them control our words.

Conversely, we should actively avoid McCain and Obama’s negative qualities.  We should avoid being overly passionate and appearing irrational and overly reactionary.  We should also avoid letting our calm and thoughtfulness overpower our conviction, remaining in control but not devoid of emotional engagement.  We need to show people that we care, but that we are capable of being rational despite this. 

If we employ these positive tactics and avoid the negative qualities that our candidates have displayed, it is likely that our moral rhetoric will be more successful.  Ethics is principally an active task, something that we do rather than just something we think about.  As such, we ought to have some notion of how to “do” ethics effectively, and our presidential candidates, through both of their respective strengths and weaknesses, have given us a perfect recipe for effective moral rhetoric.   

Not long ago I participated in a fundraiser to support the development of cancer treatments, with the stated end goal of finding a cure for cancer.  These sorts of events are quite common, and one tends to be motivated to participate by a sense of doing what is right.  However, after some philosophical reflections, I have to wonder if there isn’t something inherently wrong with participating in these sorts of events. 

 This should come as a bit of a shock, and requires substantial explanation.  First, many of these types of events, certainly all of those I have participated in, are pursuing the stated goal of curing cancer.  The problems with this are twofold.  First, this is highly misleading because it suggests that cancer has a single source and can be cured universally by finding a single cure.  Second, it ignores the fact that the cure for cancer would likely be some kind of pharmaceutical, and the pharmaceutical industry makes billions by treating diseases like cancer, but would make far less by curing it.

 Participating in cancer fundraisers thus produces two problems.  First, it creates a false sense of hope among those who have cancer by suggesting that cancer can be cured absolutely and across the board.  Second, it directs people’s attention away from a much bigger problem, namely that pharmaceutical companies have a vested interest in not curing cancer, and no amount of fundraising is likely to change that.

 There remain positive features of these types of fundraisers, especially the message of hope that is given to survivors and individuals who are currently fighting cancer.  This can be especially helpful to those who are likely to have a recurrence, as a positive mental attitude has proven to be instrumental in beating a bout of cancer.  In addition, these events create a sense of unity among both survivors and people in general.  When we gather together in support of a cause, it helps us to realize that we are capable of this sort of collective responsiveness, which is crucial to solving the really tough problems in our world.

 It seems that as individuals, we must decide between the positive and negative consequences of participating in cancer fundraisers.  Its not clear how this can be done, and my hunch is that most people will be far more moved by the positive consequences, as well as likely to deny the negative consequences I have pointed to.  Perhaps it is sufficient to simply plant a seed of doubt.  Although things like cancer fundraisers appear to be obvious examples of right actions, this is not always the case.  It is only by carefully analyzing the realities of these scenarios that we can realize what is right, whatever that may end up being.  Most importantly, our first responses to things are not always the right ones, and it is important to realize when we are being deceived.