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Should We Engineer Nature to Save It?

An eerie silence is descending across large swathes of the planet’s coral reefs. These once bustling and vibrant oceanic hubs are being transformed into bleak monotone ghost-towns by a process known as “bleaching.” Coral bleaching occurs when unusually warm ocean temperatures cause corals to expel the colorful algae that live symbiotically in their tissues, providing the coral with essential nutrients. We are currently in the midst of the fourth, and worst, recorded coral bleaching event. According to scientists at Coral Reef Watch, over 80% of the planet’s reefs have been impacted by bleaching since this event began in 2023, pushing reefs into “uncharted territories” and potentially past tipping points beyond which they will not be able to recover.

Coral reefs are essential parts of ocean ecosystems, with an estimated 25% of all marine species dependent on them at some point in their life cycle, despite them only covering less than 1% of the ocean floor. They are also essential to human life, with over 500 million people relying on them for food, and coastal communities depending on them for flood defense. The deterioration of these marine metropolises would be a catastrophe for both people and nature. The protection of coral reefs in the face of global warming is therefore a priority for marine conservation organizations.

All conservation organizations and reputable scientists agree that the reduction of carbon emissions through a socially just transition to clean energy is vital if we are to lessen global heating and prevent further damage to reefs. However, the speed and scale of the threat to coral reefs is leading conservationists to reach for faster and more direct techniques to protect them from rapidly rising ocean temperatures. It is against this backdrop that “synthetic biology” – biotechnology techniques to genetically engineer organisms, like gene editing – is being increasingly looked to as a solution. Conservationists hope to use the tools of synthetic biology to insert heat-tolerant genes into coral DNA to prevent them from bleaching when ocean temperatures rise. Such technologies have a history of sparking fierce public debate when used for agricultural purposes – think of the backlash against genetically modified food crops – but their use as a tool for conservation is still very much in the early experimental stages. Such use has therefore only recently become a matter for ethical consideration.

Proponents argue that humanity has a moral obligation to do our utmost to fix the damage humans ourselves have caused to ecosystems. Although this technology may be more intrusive than traditional conservation techniques, it essentially has the same aim of conserving species and restoring ecosystems. Those in favor can point to the fact that conservationists have already undertaken similar, albeit less technologically advanced, projects. Techniques such as selective breeding and artificial gene flow, where coral species that already possess heat tolerant traits are interbred and then introduced into struggling reefs, are already being used with some success. The use of synthetic biology is not far removed from this more traditional style of intervention it might be argued, and so there is no great ethical difference between these two approaches. If one is permissible, then so is the other.

Yet there remains a lingering feeling for many that such a radical intervention into the very essence of a coral organism – its DNA – is somehow different, and could in some significant way undermine the value that conservation seeks to preserve. Some may worry that it is one thing to assist the evolution of a coral population by introducing a naturally occurring but non-native coral species into that population; it is another to engineer entirely new artificial coral species and introduce them into a natural system. This level of intervention, it may be thought, erodes what is valuable about these systems in the first place – their naturalness. Coral reefs have developed autonomously through the co-evolution of huge numbers of different species over thousands of years. They are not the product of design but of spontaneous natural processes. Yet the use of synthetic biology would make them a product of design, specifically human design. If coral reefs can only exist because of human engineering, the line between them and an underwater aquarium wears thin.

Such feelings of unease might be given greater depth by considering the arguments of philosopher Eric Katz. Katz thinks that when conservationists intervene in a natural ecosystem to achieve some pre-established goal (like restoring the system or preserving biodiversity), they turn that ecosystem into an artifact. It ceases to be a natural ecosystem at all since it is now designed to fulfill a purpose given to it by human beings. For Katz, this means that the resulting ecosystem can only be “instrumentally” rather than “intrinsically” valuable. Instrumental value is the type of value something has in so far as it is good for achieving some other end. For example, a bicycle is valuable in so far as it is good for the purpose of cycling from one place to another. However, the bicycle is not valuable “in itself,” the bicycle does not have value beyond its function. It, like all artifacts according to Katz, does not have “intrinsic value.” Natural systems, on the other hand, Katz argues, have “intrinsic value” because they were not designed to serve any purpose, their value stems from their “autonomy” – from not being controlled and constrained by humanity. By imposing our purposes onto natural systems, the argument goes, conservation interventions erode nature’s intrinsic value, resulting in artifacts that have been manipulated to serve human desires and preferences.

Katz’s argument was initially constructed as an objection to conservation interventions generally, however, his argument is perhaps most forceful in cases like genetically engineered coral. The notion that the resulting engineered coral organisms are artifacts is hard to doubt. On Katz’s view, then, engineered organisms and the systems into which they are introduced lose their intrinsic value. They may still have instrumental value in so far as they fulfill human needs and preferences – for their ability to provide food, flood defense, tourism revenue, aesthetic pleasure and so on – but they are no longer valuable in themselves as natural systems.

Katz’s argument gives philosophical expression to a sense that there is more to nature’s value than the various benefits that humans get from it; that there is something deeply valuable about the spontaneous processes that led to the formation of ecosystems like coral reefs.  However, many have pointed out that such arguments rely on an overly narrow understanding of nature in a world where humanity is increasingly and inseparably entangled with the natural world. In fact, many philosophers and conservationists have questioned whether any sense can be given to the distinction between humanity and nature in such a world. Bill McKibben argued that climate change has brought about “The End of Nature,” in the sense of a force that acts independently of humanity; while Steven Vogel has advocated for an “environmentalism after the end of nature,” arguing that “environmental questions are social and political ones, to be answered by us and not by nature.”

From this perspective, the idea that deploying synthetic biology converts reefs into artifacts is irrelevant, because the whole planet has already been transformed by human activity, and so is already, in some sense, an artifact. When the extent of humanity’s impact on the planet is properly understood, it becomes incredibly difficult to separate what is “natural” from what is “artifactual” and to make moral judgments based on this distinction. Is a coral reef that has been intentionally engineered by humans to become more heat-tolerant any less natural than one which has been bleached and decimated by human-caused global warming?

This is what Emma Marris has called “the paradox of pristine wilderness” – conserving ecosystems in their “pristine” historical condition increasingly requires intervention in and control of those ecosystems, so the more “pristine” an ecosystem looks the less truly “wild” it is likely to be. Some conservationists, like Marris, calling themselves “new conservationists,” have embraced this paradoxical situation, arguing that conservation must ditch old notions of nature and instead accept that we humans are now in the planetary driving seat. In the words of writer Stewart Brand: “We are as gods and might as well get good at it.” For these “new conservationists,” it is now up to us to decide the future of the planet and the tools of synthetic biology should be put to use as humanity sees fit.

While it is difficult to question the insight that humanity and nature have become so tightly interwoven as for it to be difficult to neatly separate the world into these two categories, that does not necessarily mean that there is no morally significant distinction to be made here. As technological progress continues to change the possibilities of human relations with ecosystems and the planet as a whole, we may question whether dispensing with the concept of nature is really appropriate. The use of synthetic biology for coral conservation represents the cutting edge of what will become a new horizon for the ability of human beings to control and manipulate natural processes. Although the use of these technologies may seem innocuous enough when it comes to preventing coral bleaching, humanity must consider how far we are willing to go down this path. To what extent should we go on engineering species and ecosystems so that they suit our own preferences? At what point would the planet’s once mysterious and unfathomable natural systems become merely a mirror of human values? With the prospect of even more intrusive interventions, such as the “white skies” of geo-engineering glimmering in the not so distant future, we must consider the extent to which it is morally permissible for human beings to manipulate planetary systems to suit our own interests.

Still, given the dire and rapidly worsening state of coral reefs, there may not be much more time for debate. Action must happen now, and those who argue against the radical solutions being offered by synthetic biology will have a heavy burden to bear if their arguments succeed in preventing such action, and, in doing so, contributing to the irreversible and devastating loss of the planet’s once magnificent coral reef ecosystems.

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The Paris Agreement and Taking Up the Slack

On January 20, 2025, President Trump signed an executive order to withdraw the United States from the Paris climate agreement. Previously, I argued that in doing so, the U.S. is reneging on its moral obligation to combat the climate crisis – an obligation that holds regardless of whether we focus on contribution, benefit, or ability. But what are we to do when someone who should be fixing the problem, doesn’t? Must the rest of us – perhaps those of us who have less of an obligation, or even no obligation at all – do something instead? Put another way: might the rest of us be under an obligation to take up the slack?

Before considering this, it’s important to understand precisely how the global community is attempting to combat the climate crisis. As it stands, the world is on track to be 3.2°C warmer than preindustrial levels by the end of the century. Such an increase would be catastrophic – exposing 600 million people to flooding from rising sea levels, decreasing food production by as much as half, and exponentially increasing the likelihood of severe weather events like droughts and forest fires. This is why nearly all countries decided – via the Paris Agreement – to limit the global average temperature rise to no more than 2°C (with the more lofty goal being to keep this increase below 1.5°C). This is the maximum global temperature rise we can tolerate while avoiding the most catastrophic effect of climate change. According to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), achieving this with a probability of >66% will require us to keep our total global carbon expenditure below 2900GtCO2.

But here’s the thing: As of the time of writing, we’ve already produced more than 2437GtCO2, leaving us with less than 462GtCO2 – or 16% – remaining. It’s vital, then, that parties to the Paris Agreement do all they can to ensure that we don’t exceed this budget. For its part, the U.S. previously pledged to reduce its emissions to 50% of 2005 levels by 2030.

Of course, all of that’s gone out the window now. President Trump’s executive order will remain in effect until at least the next administration takes office in January 2029. As a result, it’s unlikely that the U.S. will come anywhere near achieving the ambitious goal set under the Biden administration.

What, then, does this mean for the rest of us? If the U.S. has an obligation to reduce its emissions then what happens when they simply refuse to do so? Must other nations now make greater reductions in order to take up the slack? This certainly doesn’t seem fair. But perhaps there’s reason for other countries to do this all the same.

Consider a case where you have the misfortune of participating in a group project at school. Suppose there are five of you in this group – each assigned an even 20% of the workload – and that you will collectively receive a single grade based on the quality of the project taken in its entirety. Suppose that you complete your portion to a high standard, as do three of the other students in your group. Suppose, however, that on the evening prior to submission you discover that the fifth member of your group has completed nothing. As a result, all five of you are likely to receive a failing grade. What would you do?

One solution would be for the four of you who did your part to also take on a share of what your fifth classmate didn’t. Now, this might seem deeply unfair. In fact, the unfairness is two-fold: Firstly, four of you must now do more work than you were assigned. Secondly, your lazy classmate will now receive the benefit of this passing grade, without having made any kind of contribution. But we might argue that fairness isn’t what really matters here. Your reasons for contributing more are simply found in the fact that if you don’t, you’ll suffer bad consequences. Put another way, your reasons for action aren’t necessarily moral, but – rather – prudential.

And perhaps the same is true of climate change. If one country fails to complete their portion of the project, we will all suffer the catastrophic consequences. So even though it might not be fair for other countries to have to cut their emissions further, it might nevertheless be prudentially wise to do so.

What I’ve just described is one example of taking up the slack. We might refer to this as “lateral” slack-taking – where the failure by one member to contribute to a project puts a greater burden on other members (i.e., other countries) to do more. But similar reasoning might also provide us with an argument for vertical slack-taking. What, exactly, do we mean by this? Well, unlike a classmate, the U.S. is a collective – it’s composed of millions of people. So, when the country fails to do the right thing, we might argue that the individuals that comprise it should. But what might this more individualistic version of slack-taking look like?

Well, consider what the U.S. had pledged in accordance with the Paris Agreement: a 50% reduction from 2005 emission levels by 2030. In 2005, the per capita emissions of U.S. residents were 20.7tCO2 – giving us a per capita goal of 10.35tCO2 by 2030. Currently, U.S. per capita emissions are at 14.3 tCO2.  What this means in practice, then, is that each U.S. resident merely needs to reduce their individual emissions by 3.95tCO2 in order to meet the pledge that President Biden originally made.

Is that doable? Most certainly. There are all kinds of meaningful lifestyle changes that would make up this shortfall. Merely washing your clothes in cold water and hang drying your laundry will save a full 0.5tCO2. Switching to a plant-based diet will save an additional 0.8tCO2, while avoiding one trans-Atlantic flight accounts for another 1.6tCO2. Going car-free (and instead relying on public transport) will, on average, save an additional 2.4tCO2. In fact, just these last two suggestions alone (making up 4.0tCO2 in reductions) would be sufficient for us to reach our Paris Agreement pledge.

And, if you really want to make a difference, there’s always having one less child – an action that will save a whopping 59.8tCO2 per year.

Long story short, just because one man has decided to renege on the U.S.A.’s climate pledge, there’s no reason why we, at the individual level, can’t take up the slack and decide to make good on this promise all the same. We might think we have reason to do this because the moral obligation of the collective (the U.S.A.) devolves onto its constitutive members (U.S. residents). But this needn’t be the case. Perhaps, as mentioned earlier, it’s merely prudential. None of us want ourselves – or our children, or our children’s children – to have to live in a world undergoing environmental catastrophe, and this should be enough to motivate us to do what’s necessary.

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What Dirty Dishes and the Paris Climate Agreement Have in Common

Back when I shared a home with roommates, dirty dishes were a constant source of strife. I had many roommates who loved to cook, but were largely disinterested in the clean-up that followed. (Of course, I was never part of the problem. I was the model roommate…) But, nevertheless, the dishes would pile up until there wasn’t a single clean plate or cup in the house, and we would inevitably have to ask: who’s going to clean up this mess?

In many ways, the climate crisis is a lot like those stacks of dirty dishes spread across our kitchen counter. Both are problems that result from a series of collective actions (or inactions). Further, both problems – if left unaddressed – lead to serious ramifications down the line (though of vastly differing severities).

By withdrawing the U.S. from the Paris Climate Agreement, President Trump is like the roommate who, upon seeing the stack of dirty dishes, slowly backs out of the kitchen and leaves everyone else to figure out the solution. But is this so bad? Why think the U.S. is under any kind of obligation to help clean up the mess in the first place?

When it comes to addressing collective action problems, there are a number of different approaches we might take. Perhaps the most straight-forward solution would have been to evenly split the task of washing the dirty dishes amongst myself and my roommates. This would certainly solve the problem. But some of us would have objections. Why, for example, should the roommate who used only a single plate for each and every meal have to clean as much as the roommate who created an elaborate four-course dinner for a handful of his friends? In other words, we might be skeptical that an even share is a fair share. Why? Because each roommate’s contribution to the problem wasn’t equal.

Perhaps, then, a fair solution needs to take into account how responsible each party is for the problem. If one roommate was responsible for producing half of the dirty dishes, then they should be responsible for cleaning half of the dishes. This is, essentially, the common notion that we have a duty to clean up our own mess. In discussions of environmental ethics, this approach is commonly referred to as the Polluter Pays Principle (PPP). Applied to the climate crisis, the PPP would require those who have historically produced more emissions to shoulder a greater share of the burden of solving the problem (both by reducing future emissions, and contributing financially to the cost of addressing the crisis).

With total historical emissions of just under 400 billion tonnes CO2, the United States is responsible for a full quarter of global cumulative emissions – more than double that produced by China. The PPP, then, would hold that whatever needs to be done to address the climate crisis, the U.S. is on the hook for a quarter share of the burden.

Yet we might have concerns with this approach too. Consider that roommate who cooked the four-course dinner for friends. While they might have been responsible for producing the mess, they were not the only one to receive the benefits of that mess. That roommate might argue that their friends – those who enjoyed the elaborate degustation – should now be held accountable for cleaning some of those dishes. This intuition can be captured by a different approach, commonly referred to as the Beneficiary Pays Principle (BPP). According to this principle, the burden of cleaning up a mess shouldn’t just fall on those who made the mess, but rather on those who benefited from that mess.

In the context of the climate crisis, this shift from the PPP to the BPP makes little difference to the onus placed on the United States. The term “carbon majors” is used to refer to a collection of the world’s largest oil, gas, coal, and cement producing corporations – that is, those businesses that have received the greatest financial benefit from the climate crisis. Of these 122 carbon majors (who are, collectively, responsible for 72% of all historical emissions) more than 27% are housed within the United States. But the benefits extend further than this. The United States economy has flourished as a direct result of its dependence on carbon-intensive industry, creating myriad benefits for those who live here. According to the BPP, then, it is only fair that we in the U.S. take on a substantial portion of fixing the problem we benefited from.

But suppose that, on the morning my roommates and I convene to discuss the dish dilemma, everyone is very busy. Some have class, while others need to get to work. In fact, the only person who has the time and resources to clean is me. In such a circumstance, my roommates might argue that I should be the one to shoulder the greater burden simply because I’m able to. This approach is referred to as the Ability to Pay Principle (APP), and it underpins many intuitive notions. It explains, for example, why we tend to place a greater expectation on wealthier people to donate more to charity. Why? Because they are more able to give up their resources. It also provides the foundation for the kind of progressive tax system we have here in the U.S.

Applied to the climate crisis, the APP would look not to those who contributed to or benefited from the problem, but would instead focus on those who are most able to help. Once again, however, this principle would prioritize the U.S.A. as needing to shoulder a substantial portion of the burden. With the eleventh highest GDP per capita in the world, the U.S. is among the most able to financially contribute to solving the problem. What’s more, we also have the greatest ability to take on non-financial burdens like reducing our carbon emissions. Why? Because we have available world-leading technological expertise to effectively transition to renewable energy.

The upshot then, is this: When it comes to the U.S.A.’s climate obligations, it doesn’t really matter if we think that it’s contribution or benefit or ability that determines who should solve the problem. Why? Because the U.S.A. is on the hook regardless of the approach we take. And that’s what makes Trump’s exit from the Paris Climate Agreement so egregious. In doing this, the U.S. is, essentially, being the very worst kind of roommate to have to share a home with.

Jeff Sebo: The Moral Circle

Our 2024-2025 season continues with a conversation with Jeff Sebo (NYU) on his new book, The Moral Circle: Who Matters, What Matters, and Why. Here, Sebo argues that we should prepare to widen our circle of moral consideration to septillions more beings than we currently recognize as morally relevant, including animals of obvious and non-obvious species, as well as other kinds of beings like artificial intelligence agents as well.

 

ABOUT THE GUEST

Jeff Sebo is Associate Professor of Environmental Studies, Affiliated Professor of Bioethics, Medical Ethics, Philosophy, and Law, Director of the Center for Environmental and Animal Protection, Director of the Center for Mind, Ethics, and Policy, and Co-Director of the Wild Animal Welfare Program at New York University. Sebo is also a Faculty Fellow at the Guarini Center on Environmental, Energy & Land Use Law at the NYU School of Law and an Advisor at the Animals in Context series at NYU Press.

 

GET THE BOOK

Library Search  →

Amazon  →

ThriftBooks  →

 

FOR FURTHER READING

2024 Future Perfect 50: Jeff Sebo, Vox Media

Jeff Sebo, “Building Safer Cities Means Protecting Animals Too,” The Los Angeles Times

Robert Long, Jeff Sebo, et al, “Taking AI Welfare Seriously,” Independent Report

Jeff Sebo, “Moral Circle Explosion,” The Oxford Handbook of Normative Ethics

Jeff Sebo, “Should Chimpanzees Be Considered Persons?,” The New York Times

Dustin Crummett, “Do Insects Matter?,” The Prindle Post

 

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On the Morality of Killing Weka

image of weka hiding in tall grass

The Weka – one of New Zealand’s most iconic birds, after the Kiwi – has been thrust into the spotlight after a recent episode of a U.S. reality show depicted two contestants killing and eating one of the birds. The Weka – like almost all native New Zealand species – is afforded protected status, and may not be hunted, killed, eaten, or possessed. For this reason, the contestants were eliminated from the show, and received a written warning from the New Zealand Department of Conservation (DoC) – though could have also been issued a fine of up to $100,000NZ (approximately $470,000USD).

As with many New Zealand birds, weka populations have seen a drastic reduction since the arrival of European settlers and the corresponding introduction of invasive predators such as ferrets and domestic cats. Weka have subsequently been identified as a vulnerable species, and made the subject of a number of programs to bolster their populations. All of this might seem to provide a clear-cut case for the moral impermissibility of killing one of these birds. As is usually the case, however, things are far more complicated than they first appear.

Protected status notwithstanding, there might exist independent moral reasons to think that killing an animal is wrong. The most famous of these was provided by Peter Singer in his 1975 book Animal Liberation. According to Singer, the ability of animals to feel pain and pleasure (i.e., their sentience) is sufficient for them to have interests: namely, an interest in experiencing pleasure and an interest in avoiding pain. According to Singer, these interests need to be weighed against the interests of other concerned parties in our moral decision-making. It’s this kind of reasoning that underpins arguments against harming animals merely for the purposes of entertainment or cosmetic testing. It allows us to explain why it might be wrong to declaw cats or purebreed certain dogs and – in its most ambitious form – gives us reason to question our treatment of less-considered animals like fish, octopi, and maybe even insects.

The impermissibility of causing harm to an animal might also be exacerbated by that animal’s awareness of the suffering it experiences. This is a particularly acute concern in the case of  weka, who are notoriously intelligent birds. I was lucky enough to get up-close-and-personal with several weka at the Owlcatraz Native Bird and Wildlife Park in Shannon, New Zealand. They are, in the words of DoC, a “feisty” species prone to a distinctive, threatening growl – yet our guide assured us that they were not hostile towards humans, but merely harbored a “general aggression at the world.” Despite their petulance, they exhibited enormous intelligence and charisma, and we were regaled with the many ways in which they had defeated the barricades designed to keep them from attacking and killing other protected birds in the sanctuary. One particular weka had even gone so far as to refrain from eating the food it had been provided (thereby ignoring the fundamental biological urge of hunger) and using that food to lure and catch another bird for dinner.

Yet it’s precisely this behavior that may, in fact, provide moral reasons in favor of killing weka in certain limited circumstances. The tenacious and highly intelligent scavenging nature of the weka means that – in the words of DoC – they occupy a “problematic conservation niche.” While they are critically threatened on the mainland, their introduction to island colonies (a typical location for boosting the population of vulnerable species) sees other protected animals immediately put at risk. In this way, a delicate balancing act is required. While weka populations need to be maintained, they must also be limited so as not to see other species become threatened.

The weka, then, provides an example of a problem that is common in ecological preservation: in order to preserve the interests of one species, we might have to violate the interests of another. This is precisely what happens when we are forced to cull an invasive species. The challenge then becomes doing so in a way that minimizes harm to all animals involved. I’ve previously written on how this might be done in the context of feral cat populations. Is it morally preferable to prohibit the feeding of feral cats, or to poison them? Or should we instead opt for a comprehensive system of trap, neuter, and release? Finding the right answer is notoriously difficult.

The weka presents a slightly different version of the problem, since it is not an invasive species. Instead, it is the victim of invasive predation – and thus is in need of concerted conservation efforts. Yet these must be done carefully, since it, too, predates upon other species that have also been the victim of invasive predation. What this means, then, is that there might be some moral reasons in favor of killing a certain number of weka. Of course, any such program would need to be officially sanctioned and carefully managed – not merely carried out by U.S. reality show contestants ignorant of their actions. Yet the “problematic” nature of the weka – and the precarious position it holds in New Zealand’s ecosystem – show that the morality of killing weka is far more nuanced than it might first appear.

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Korea, Climate Change, and Intergenerational Justice

photograph of flooded countryside

Last week, the Constitutional Court of Korea began its second and final hearing in a landmark case concerning their government’s handling of the global climate crisis. Similar claims have been filed in the United States, Europe, Canada, Australia, India and Brazil; with one such case against the Swiss government succeeding in the European Court of Human Rights just weeks earlier. Yet this is the first case of its kind in East Asia. The setting for the lawsuit is apt, given that Korea’s long, low coastline puts it among the countries most vulnerable to the impacts of climate change. Sea levels along Korea’s coast have risen around 10 centimetres in the last 40 years. This – combined with a significant increase in the severity and frequency of extreme weather events – has made flash flooding the most frequent natural disaster in the country, with 2022 seeing the heaviest rain to hit Seoul in 115 years. In 2020, three successive tropical cyclones in the space of two weeks caused 676 power outages affecting more than 300,000 households. In total, 46 lives were lost to storms and extreme rainfall in that same year.

The case currently before the Constitutional Court claims that the Korean government has failed to protect its people by not doing enough to tackle the climate crisis. Two hundred plaintiffs are named – largely babies and children. Yet there is one plaintiff that deserves special attention: an unborn fetus nicknamed “Woodpecker.”

Much of our moral discussions focus on how our actions might wrong others. I have previously claimed, for example, that we wrong other members of our community by failing to get vaccinated; that we wrong our children by sharing images and videos of them online; and that we wrong members of certain cultures by depositing human remains on the Moon. These claims are largely unproblematic, since they are based upon the immediate harms that we cause to certain individuals. But claims like that made by Woodpecker are more challenging. They force us to ask the question: can we wrong someone who does not (yet) even exist?

Consider an example to help make this concern more acute: Suppose that Blight Inc. builds a factory in the midst of an idyllic lakeside community. Suppose, further, that this factory begins spewing toxic effluent into the lake. This pollution creates a battery of predictable harms: fish stocks dwindle, the waters cease to be swimmable, and toxins find their way into the town water supply. The actions of Blight Inc. obviously wrong a great many people: the fishermen whose livelihoods have been destroyed; the leisurists who can no longer use the lake for recreation; and the townsfolk who now find themselves sick as a result of their polluted drinking water. Given this, it seems likely that these individuals will have a strong moral claim against Blight Inc. to cease all future harms, and (most likely) compensate for the harms already incurred.

But suppose that some of these harms will continue far into the future. Suppose that the pollutants find their way into the ecosystem, and will create health problems for residents of the town for at least another century. Suppose that a child (call them “Bluebird”) will be born in 2124 with a severe illness resulting directly from Blight Inc.’s pollution in 2024. Can we coherently claim that Blight Inc. now wrongs Bluebird, even though Bluebird does not (yet) exist?

It seems that we can. And perhaps this isn’t all that surprising. The effects of most of our actions are immediate – so that if we do something harmful, that harm tends to occur now. This limits the scope of our victims and makes them relatively easy to identify. But not all of our actions are this way. Sometimes, the harmful effects of our actions are deferred. And this is precisely what happens in the case of Bluebird. While some of the harms leading from Blight Inc.’s actions are immediate, others are deferred – and deferred for a very long time. But this no less makes them harms for which Blight Inc. is responsible. And the very same is true of the climate crisis. While we are already feeling the effects of the crisis, the worst of the harms we are trying to avoid will not occur for decades, or even centuries. Thus, if we do fail to avert disaster, the harms that result from this failure will be deferred for some time. Yet they are still harms for which we seem responsible.

This notion forms the basis of what is called intergenerational justice: the idea that our actions now are capable of wronging those who will come into existence in the future.

Perhaps this seems intuitive. But it remains a controversial suggestion. For most of our discussions of morality, claims of injustice – of being wronged – are limited to those who exist. Yet intergenerational justice makes a bold stride in the direction of making claims of injustice about individuals who do not exist. What’s more, intergenerational justice drastically widens the scope of individuals to whom we owe duties. Consider, again, the lake pollution case above. In pumping effluent, Blight Inc. does not just wrong (and therefore potentially owe compensation to) the current residents of the town, but also every future resident of the town who will be harmed by their actions. And the same is true of climate change. Our failure to arrest disaster now wrongs not only those who are currently harmed by the climate crisis, but every person in the future who will also be harmed.

And there’s a deeper concern, too: one that might potentially undermine the very foundation for any claim of intergenerational justice. Next time, I will turn to consider this, and see what it might mean for the claims of individuals like Woodpecker.

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The Complicated Ethics of African Safaris

photograph of gazelles followed by safari vehicle

For many, the idea of paying great sums of money to travel to Africa and go on a safari promising the opportunity to shoot exotic wild game like giraffes, lions, or elephants is ethically unacceptable. The killing of Cecil the lion, for example, caused outrage around the world. For some, what is objectionable is the idea of slaughtering any animal at all for any purpose. For others, it might be the exploitative nature of Westerners spending large sums of cash to shoot African animals, or the fact that the black market trade of goods like elephant tusks is made worse by the practice of safari hunting. Addressing these issues can be tricky: Germany has recently threatened to place greater limits of trophy hunting due to poaching concerns; Botswana, meanwhile, has threatened to send 20,000 elephants to Germany due to overpopulation of the species. Stories like this remind us how complex the ethical issues involved in animal tourism can be.

Tanzania comes in at 165th place in terms of nominal GDP per capita and Botswana comes in at 86th. These are developing nations where the average person makes relatively little money compared to the rest of the world. Despite this, the very rich can book photo or hunting safaris at five-star hotels like the Four Seasons Serengeti Safari Lodge for thousands of dollars a night. If one wishes to hunt wild game, they can select from an established menu where the price of hunting each animal is clearly listed. Hunting a baboon might cost $100 while hunting a leopard will cost $4500. An African elephant with at least one tusk over 30kg will cost $20,000 to kill.

It’s not surprising why a system like this would strike one as unethical. For starters, there is the basic act of hunting animals for sport, which many consider to be inherently wrong. Since reasonable alternatives to hunting exist, inflicting unnecessary harm and suffering on animals who are living their natural lives is morally wrong. But the consequences are even bigger than this. Trophy hunting not only wrongs the individual organism, but it can affect entire communities of animals if they work on packs or groups. The practice can also destabilize migration and hibernation practices, upsetting the balance of various ecosystems.

In addition to ethical views such as utilitarianism or the capabilities approach which might stress the ethical importance of minimizing harm or having a meaningful relationship with the animal world, there is also the additional concern that certain animals like elephants seem to have a heightened level of consciousness, including the ability to recognize themselves. This suggests that hunting certain kinds of animals may constitute an additional form of wrongdoing.

There is also the fact that these safaris feel like just another case of Western exploitation of African economies. Having outsiders spend small fortunes to hunt (or even photograph) the local fauna while residents survive on a fraction of what is spent each day. If this is one of the few ways to bring investment into the local economy, it would appear African countries don’t have much of a choice about tolerating the practice.

On the other hand, defenders of hunting and photo safaris will argue that conservation of the African savanna requires great sums of money. The national parks and hunting reserves that have been saved from agricultural development creates an opportunity cost for local development that must be offset. If these animals are left alone, they may be more inclined to wander into local villages and cause damage. This possibility makes it difficult for locals to want to support conservation.

Additionally, the high value of black market goods such as ivory presents a significant incentive to engage in poaching. Failing to regulate this practice threatens grave consequences. Given the incentives, we should anticipate a tragedy of the commons scenario where poachers and developers acting only in their self-interest will ruin the local habitats and endanger more animal species.

To prevent outcomes like this, African governments allow trophy hunting and photo safaris because the revenue from these businesses can be used to pay for conservation efforts. According to one study published in the journal Global Ecology and Conservation, trophy hunting contributes more than $341 million to the South African economy and supports more than 17,000 jobs. Safari operations help support anti-poaching patrols, provide employment for locals, and build infrastructure for rural economies.

But defenders of game hunting argue that “African wildlife conservation can only be justified if that ground generates enough revenue to support local communities whilst maintaining a healthy ecosystem.” Hunting and photo safaris then must accomplish a great many tasks. Ultimately, the hope is that we might incentivize active conservation by giving these animals a very different kind value. Killing some animals thus becomes a means to save many more.

Still, many consider the defense of safari hunting on the grounds that it provides the resources required for conservation to be questionable. A separate study conducted for Humane Society International has found that the economic benefits of trophy hunting are sometimes overstated. They found, for example, that trophy hunting only contributes closer to $132 million per year. There are also concerns that studies do not properly consider the difference in the economic benefits of not engaging in trophy hunting and engaging in it when it comes to comparing tourism projections.

Even if we consider only photo safaris, there are risks that creating a market to support conservation has led to a perverse incentive. The money to be made from tourism often proves too enticing, leading to greater development of infrastructure to support more and more tourists instead of greater conservation efforts. Further, There are concerns that tourists coming to Africa to see pristine wilderness are destroying it by their very actions. Even without hunting, wildebeests are declining and migration patterns and behavior of wild animals are changing as they become more and more accustomed to photo tourists.

Easy answers to these growing problems are nowhere in sight. While we may have moral objections to these safaris, banning the practice could very well lead to worse outcomes for the local animal populations. It’s far from clear what course of action will produce the greatest benefits over the long term.

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Octopi and Moral Circle Expansion

photograph of octopus in water

Washington State is now on the cusp of passing the world’s first ban on octopus farming. The bill – which passed the State House of Representatives and Senate earlier this month – now only needs to be signed by the Governor in order to become law. The legislation is intended to halt a developing practice that leads to widespread death and suffering for octopi – not to mention other serious environmental harms.

This development marks yet another step in what is often referred to as “moral circle expansion.” What do we mean by this? Well, there are things that are worthy of moral consideration, and there are things that are not. My family, my friends, my students – indeed, all other humans – are, we assume, worthy of moral consideration. What this means, essentially, is that when making a decision, I need to factor in how the interests of those individuals might be affected. If, for example, I am about to do something that will cause severe pain to a number of those people, this will be a morally relevant consideration – and may, in fact, be sufficient to render my action morally impermissible..

There are, however, many things that are clearly not worthy of moral consideration. Most inanimate objects are like this. That’s why when my computer is slow to boot up first thing in the morning, there’s nothing morally problematic with me responding by striking it and delivering a tirade of verbal abuse. The story would, however, be much different if I treated another human in this way.

Sadly, our history is rife with examples of our “moral circle” being limited so as to exclude certain portions of the human population. Disenfranchisement, gender- and sexuality-based oppression, and the widespread suffering of ethnic minorities and indigenous peoples have all, to some extent, resulted from a failure to understand how far our moral circle should expand.

In 1975, Peter Singer’s Animal Liberation opened a brave new world of moral circle expansion by arguing that non-human animals are also worthy of moral consideration. His argument was elegantly simple, and started from the observation that most non-human animals are sentient – that is, able to feel pleasure and pain. According to Singer, sentience is all that’s required in order for something to have interests. Why? Because if something can feel pleasure then it has an interest in gaining pleasure, and if something can feel pain then it has an interest in avoiding pain. Once these interests are on the table, they must factor into our moral decision-making processes.

Almost fifty years on, Singer’s assertion might now seem rather uncontroversial. Most would probably agree that my cat has interests, and is therefore worthy of moral consideration. So too are the birds currently at the feeder outside of my window. The upshot of this is that there are many ways in which I could act towards these animals that would be clearly morally impermissible.

But, as humans, we’re rather inconsistent in our approach to moral circle expansion. While we happily include the animals with which we are most familiar – like household pets – we tend to omit vast populations of other animals – like those we farm. Many try to justify this distinction based on the perceived intelligence of the creatures in question. But this is a bad approach. Firstly, our perceptions are often mistaken. Pigs, for example, are smarter than dogs. Secondly, implying that something is less worthy of moral consideration just because it is less intelligent creates all kinds of problematic implications for how we treat very young children and those with diminished mental capacity.

Moral circle expansion gets even trickier once we start considering creatures more far-removed from humans. Recent developments suggest that our moral circle might need to be expanded to include things like fish and maybe even insects – but this is (predictably) being met with serious resistance. Something similar is now happening in Washington with octopi.

Interestingly, in 2021, the United Kingdom passed legislation recognizing decapod crustaceans (lobsters and crabs) and cephalopod molluscs (squid and octopi) as sentient beings. This recognition did not, however, automatically halt practices that would be considered morally reprehensible if perpetuated against other sentient beings. Washington State’s bill goes one step further than this, with California and Hawai’i now considering similar legislation. And such a move makes sense. Octopi are among the smartest non-human animals – able to use tools, recognize people, complete puzzles, and even open toddler proof cases that are impervious to young humans. At the very least, such abilities put them (cognitively) leaps-and-bounds ahead of many other non-human animals that we readily afford moral consideration. My cat, for example, isn’t capable of half of what an octopus can manage. So – if sentience and intelligence are what matter to moral circle expansion – cephalopods should be afforded at least as much consideration as our feline companions – if not more.

Yet they’re not. Spanish multinational Nueva Pescanova is currently planning to open the world’s first intensive octopus farm in the Canary Islands (a development that partially motivated Washington State’s new bill). And it’s this inconsistency that’s most concerning. There is, we must assume, an objective standard for what should be included in the moral circle. What’s more, most of us seem in agreement that the circle should be expanded to include many non-human animals – especially those we share our homes with. Yet, whatever standard we adopt to ensure this happens (be it sentience, intelligence, or a combination of both) there are many more non-human animals that fulfil this criteria – octopi chief among them. What this means, then, is that we must either abandon any notion of expanding our moral circle to include non-human animals in the first place; or – better yet – begin to think more carefully (and inclusively) about the range of animals that rightfully deserve moral consideration.

Wildlife Recoveries with Christopher Preston

In an age when endangered species are dying out by the hundreds, philosopher Christopher Preston argues that there’s hope to be found in the stories of successful wildlife recoveries. These animals not only have a lot to teach us about restoration, but they can also help bridge the political divide over climate change.

For the episode transcript, download a copy or read it below.

Contact us at examiningethics@gmail.com

Links to people and ideas mentioned in the show

  1. Christopher Preston, Tenacious Beasts: Wildlife Recoveries That Change How We Think about Animals

Credits

Thanks to Evelyn Brosius for our logo. Music featured in the show:

“Capering” by Blue Dot Sessions

“Town Market” by Blue Dot Sessions

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Climate Ethics with Manuel Wörsdörfer

On this episode of Examining Ethics, philosopher Manuel Wörsdörfer joins us to review some of the most pressing climate ethics issues we face today. We explore intergenerational justice, responsibility for climate change and much more.

For the episode transcript, download a copy or read it below.

Contact us at examiningethics@gmail.com

Links to people and ideas mentioned in the show

  1. Manuel Wörsdörfer, “Climate Ethics and Climate Politics: Current Challenges and Potential Solutions“
  2. Stephen Gardiner’s work on climate ethics
  3. Darrel Moellendorf, Mobilizing Hope: Climate Change and Global Poverty

Credits

Thanks to Evelyn Brosius for our logo. Music featured in the show:

“Single Still” by Blue Dot Sessions

“Cran Ras” by Blue Dot Sessions

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Meat Replacements and the Logic of the Larder

photograph of vegetable larder

Every year, tens of billions of animals are killed for food. This is morally objectionable for all sorts of reasons directly related to the experiences of the individual animals involved: the process of food production causes them pain and suffering; they are prevented from flourishing in the ways that are appropriate for members of their species; they live shorter lives full of more suffering and less pleasure than they would have if those lives were not cut short; and so on. In response, entrepreneurs have worked hard to bring alternatives to the market in the form of plant-based and cell-cultured products, neither of which involve killing animals. Humans do not need to eat animals or animal products in order to enjoy nutritious diets and live long, healthy lives. If a person can give up animal products, many argue that they should.

In response, some have raised an objection that has come to be known as “the Logic of the Larder.” A larder is a storage space for food, traditionally a place for preparing and containing meat. This line of reasoning is also sometimes referred to as the “Replaceability Argument.” In his 1914 book The Humanities of Diet, famous vegetarian thinker Henry S. Salt presents and responds to the objection at length, introducing it with a common idiom at the time: “Blessed is the Pig, for the Philosopher is fond of bacon.” The idea is that farm animals are made better off by the fact that humans breed them for food. The contention is that farm animals, on average, have lives that are worth living.

Generally speaking, it is better to exist than not to exist. If human beings did not raise farm animals for food, those animals would not exist at all. Therefore, human beings do something good for farm animals by bringing them into existence to be used for food.

If this argument is sound — if humans do a good thing when they bring billions of animals into existence for use as food — then human beings would be doing a very bad thing by replacing that source of food; the animals involved would never have had the chance to live.

In responding to this argument, Salt and others point out that the Logic of the Larder seems more like a bit of sophistry — an ad hoc rationalization or, as Socrates puts it, an attempt to “make the weaker argument the stronger” — than an actual argument that is ever used as part of a decision to raise animals for food. When someone decides to get involved in raising animals for slaughter, they rarely say, “boy, what I’d really like to do is bring a bunch of new animals into existence and give them a shot at life.” Instead, animals are treated as objects to be mass produced in the most efficient and profitable way possible. If the lives of animals were valued, they would be allowed to age and grow at the appropriate speed and rate; instead, they are given growth hormones to shorten the period from birth to slaughter. Salt powerfully provides this argument from the pig’s perspective,

What shall be the reply of the Pig to the Philosopher? “Revered moralist” he might plead, “if it were unseemly for me, who am today a pig, and tomorrow but ham and sausages, to dispute with a master of ethics, yet to my porcine intellect it appeareth that having first determined to kill and devour me, thou hast afterwards bestirred thee to find a moral reason. For mark, I pray thee, that in my entry into the world my own predilection was in no wise considered, nor did I purchase life on the condition of my own butchery. If, then, thou art firm set on pork, so be it, for pork I am: but though thou hast not spared my life, at least spare me thy sophistry. It is not for his sake, but for thine, that in his life the Pig is filthily housed and fed, and at the end barbarously butchered.

This colorful response also draws out the idea that the “better to exist than not to exist” justification condones breeding sentient creatures for any purposes whatsoever. If we follow this line of argument, it is better to bring a being into existence, horribly mistreat it, and show no mercy or respect for its dignity, than it is to simply not bring a being into existence at all. And this seems to justify bringing humans into existence for the purposes of selling them into slavery — after all, it’s better to exist than not!

The proponent of the Logic of the Larder, however, might respond by emphasizing that humans are cognitively very different from non-human animals, and this is why raising animals for slaughter is defensible, while breeding humans for slavery is not. Human beings develop identities, have a sense of their past and their future, understand concepts like death and dignity, and are capable of applying those concepts to themselves and of integrating them into their own desires concerning the future. Many, including Peter Singer in his book Practical Ethics, have argued that this makes a difference when it comes to whether it is a bad thing to kill an animal.

But some humility is likely warranted when it comes to drawing conclusions regarding which mental capacities farm animals have and which they don’t.

Animals can’t express themselves in human language and their beliefs likely do not have propositional content in the ways that the beliefs of human beings sometimes do. Nevertheless, animals are clearly capable of making plans that have temporal components.

They understand that things take place in sequence, and they rely on this understanding to get what they want. They exhibit personality and those traits are enduring. They avoid death and members of many species grieve in response to the death of loved ones. Instead of judging whether raising animals only to kill them by the standards of anthropocentric metaphysics and moral psychology, we might want to at least entertain the possibility that we’ve been thinking about identity, autonomy, and future-related cognition in idealized ways that are unlikely to correctly characterize human moral psychology, let alone set humans apart as uniquely entitled to continued existence.

Moreover, to suggest that it is better for a farm animal to exist than not to exist presupposes that these animals have a welfare that can be measured relative to their welfare in other possible worlds (for example, worlds in which they do not exist). This is to concede the most important point when it comes to discussion of the ethics of using animals for food — animals are the kinds of beings that can experience pain and pleasure. If we think it can be good for them to come into existence, then it can also be quite bad for them to exist under conditions of deprivation, slavery, and slaughter. We can’t defensibly bring them into existence and then force them to live lives full of more suffering than joy.

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The Painful Truth About Insects

closeup photograph of mosquito

In a recent study, scientists from the Queen Mary University of London argue that insects possess central nervous control of ‘noiception’ – that is, the ability to detect painful stimuli. Put simply, this discovery makes it plausible that insects are capable of feeling pain in much the same way as humans and other animals. It’s worth considering, then, how this finding might be relevant to our moral considerations of insects.

Generally, we tend to think of humans as being equal. But what do we mean by this? Clearly it’s not that all humans are, in fact, equal. Humans differ enormously in their interests and capabilities. Some students want to become rock stars, others want to be mathematicians, while others might suffer from disabilities that make both of those options more difficult to pursue. Nor do we mean that all humans should receive equal treatment – since different humans have vastly different needs. The aspiring rock star needs a guitar, while the math-whiz needs access to quality education. The person suffering from a disability, on the other hand, might need extra assistance that would be unnecessary for their more able-bodied classmates.

It seems, then, that when we say that all humans are equal, we mean to say that the interests of all humans should be given equal consideration.

Put another way: we should care equally about all people – no person is of greater value than another. It’s this very notion that grounds the case against various types of bigotry like racism and sexism. To prioritize the interests of one person over another based purely on their ethnicity or gender is to deny the principle of equality.

In his seminal book, Animal Liberation, Peter Singer considers how the principle of equality might be extended beyond humans. If it’s wrong to prioritize the interests of certain beings based on their ethnicity or gender, then shouldn’t it also be wrong to prioritize them based on their species?

If animals have interests, how can we justify prioritizing our interests above theirs without, essentially, being speciest?

But this raises a very important question: do animals even have interests? It’s certainly clear that humans do. As noted above, some humans have an interest in becoming rock stars, while others have an interest in becoming mathematicians. And then there are those interests that are almost universally held by humans, such as interests in being healthy, safe, financially secure, and loved. But what about animals? It’s not obvious that there are goats who aspire to be rock stars, nor pigs that aspire to be mathematicians. Nor do any animals seem to show concern for things like financial security or love.

According to Singer, however, the only prerequisite for having interests is the capacity to experience pleasure and pain – or what we might call “sentience.” Why? Well, if something can experience pleasure, then it has an interest in pursuing pleasure. Likewise, if something can experience pain, then it has an interest in avoiding pain.

If some living being experiences suffering, then there can be no moral justification for refusing to take that suffering into account. And, if we adopt the principle of equality, then that suffering must be counted equally with the same amount of suffering when experienced by any other being.

So if kicking a person and causing them X amount of pain is morally wrong, then kicking a dog and causing that same amount of pain is just as wrong. Likewise, if it would be morally wrong to inflict Y amount of pain on a human in order to test the safety of a new cosmetic, then it will be just as morally wrong to inflict this same amount of pain on an animal for the same purpose.

Singer’s argument has huge ramifications for many of the ways in which we treat animals. Consider the animal suffering that goes into the production of a single cheeseburger – and how terrible we would consider that same suffering if it was experienced by a human. What’s more, this suffering is offset by only a small benefit to the human who eats the burger – a benefit that could just as easily be achieved via non-meat and non-dairy alternatives. In fact, much – if not all – of the animal products and by-products we consume start to become morally questionable when seen in this light.

Of course, one simple solution would be to discount – or disqualify entirely – the suffering of animals on the basis that they aren’t as intelligent as humans. But this is to go against the very principle of equality that many of us hold dear. When thinking about humans, we would consider it reprehensible to say that someone’s pain and suffering is less important simply because they are less intelligent than someone else. So we must take the same approach to animals.

The only consistent way to justify the suffering we inflict on animals is to say that their suffering counts for less simply because they are animals. But that’s speciesism – and it shares precisely the same (very bad) rationale that justifies racism, sexism, and other forms of bigotry.

Indeed, Singer’s observations have motivated many people to adopt vegetarian or vegan lifestyles. But what are we to make of this new research that suggests insects might also be sentient? If an ant can feel pleasure and pain, then an ant has interests. And if an ant has interests, then the principle of equality demands that that suffering be counted equally with the same amount of suffering when experienced by any other being. Suppose, for example, that swatting a mosquito causes that mosquito to feel Z amount of pain. Suppose, then, that – for a human – that same amount of pain would be the equivalent of a hard slap to the face. If we believe that slapping a human is morally wrong, then the principle of equality would require us to reach the same moral judgement about inflicting the same amount of pain on a mosquito. This would mean, then, that swatting a mosquito was morally wrong.

It’s a strange conclusion, and one that is still very much open to debate. For one, we would need to establish that insects do in fact experience pain in the same morally relevant way as humans and other non-human animals. We would then need some way of measuring this pain in order to form reasonable moral judgements. It might, for example, turn out that the suffering experienced by a swatted mosquito is minuscule – much less, in fact, than the bite it gives to the next human it encounters. In such a case, we could possibly make a case for the moral permissibility of swatting that mosquito.

But in the absence of better information about whether – and to what extent – insects experience pain, what should we do? There’s a chance that there’s nothing problematic about causing insects to suffer. But there’s also a chance that we’ve been horribly wrong. Until only recently we were still unsure about whether non-human animals experienced pain, with veterinarians trained before 1989 taught to ignore animal suffering. In fact, doctors up until that decade were still skeptical that human babies experienced pain, with many infant surgeries routinely carried out without anesthesia. Given our poor track record of understanding pain in other living beings, the mere possibility that insects suffer should give us reason to pause and reconsider how we treat them.

Ethics and Cities with Quill R. Kukla

How much does the place where you live affect your behavior or your values? And how much could you affect the place where you live? Answering these questions on the show today is the philosopher Quill R. Kukla. Their book City Living: How Urban Dwellers and Urban Spaces Make One Another explores the symbiotic relationship between cities and the people who live in them.

For the episode transcript, download a copy or read it below.

Contact us at examiningethics@gmail.com

Links to people and ideas mentioned in the show

  1. More information about gentrification and displacement
  2. Neil Smith’s book about revanchism
  3. Relationship between zip codes and life span
  4. Writer and urban activist Jane Jacobs
  5. More about “third places” and Ray Oldenburg

Bonus Content!

Quill Kukla on cat cafes and gentrification

Credits

Thanks to Evelyn Brosius for our logo. Music featured in the show:

“Gin Boheme” by Blue Dot Sessions

“Songe d’Automne” by Latché Swing from the Free Music Archive. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 FR

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Insurance, Natural Disasters, and the Relevance of Luck

photograph of black smoke and forest fire approaching apartments

Last year, Hurricane Ida caused around $30 billion in damages. This cost was largely borne by insurers, forcing some companies to declare insolvency. The United States is now on the brink of another active hurricane season, and – as a result – insurers in some of the riskiest parts of the country are cancelling home insurance policies. Around 80,000 homes in Louisiana have already lost their coverage, with an additional 80,000 Floridian policy holders set to be affected by the end of this week.

This is nothing new. The worsening climate crisis has seen a marked increase in the number of uninsurable homes. For example, in Australia – a country blighted by recent wildfires and floods – around 720,000 homes are set to be completely uninsurable by the end of the century. When these homes are damaged or destroyed, their occupants are left destitute.

What, then, should we be doing to help these people? More generally, what kind of moral obligations do we have to people who lose their homes as the result of a natural disaster?

One way of approaching this issue is through the concept of “luck.” We experience luck all the time – some of it good, some of it bad. And bad luck comes in many different forms: We might have our car destroyed by an errant bolt of lightning; or we might lose our entire life savings betting on a bad hand of poker. In both cases, we’re left worse off. But the obligation on others to help us may very well differ. Consider the bolt of lightning. This is, perhaps, the purest example of a case of “brute” bad luck. Compare this with that losing hand of poker. Sure, there’s still an element of luck at play: if the random shuffle of the deck had dealt me a better hand, I might’ve won. But I knew what I was signing up for. I made a calculated gamble knowing there was a good chance I might lose all of my money. Unlike the bad luck of being struck by lightning, the losing hand of poker was bad luck I opted in to – “option” luck, if you will.

This distinction between “brute” bad luck and “option” bad luck forms an important part of how Luck Egalitarians see our obligations to help others.

Stated in its simplest form, Luck Egalitarianism says that we have a moral obligation to help those who suffer from bad brute luck, but not those who suffer from bad option luck.

So, how does Luck Egalitarianism help us with disaster-prone homeowners? Well, wildfires and floods are (like bolts of lightning) clear cases of bad brute luck. But this doesn’t necessarily mean we have an automatic obligation to help those who lose their homes to such disasters. Here’s the thing: wildfires and floods aren’t entirely unpredictable. They tend to occur in disaster-prone areas, and such areas are usually well-documented. In fact, those who choose to build their homes in a risky location will usually find themselves paying substantially less for their homes. In this way, these people make a calculated gamble – so when disaster does inevitably strike, it is instead a case of bad option luck, not brute luck.

At least, it used to be this simple. For a long while, disaster-prone areas were largely stable. But the climate crisis has seen a swift end to that. Risky areas are growing, and wildfire and flood seasons are lengthening and worsening. Someone who chose to build in a safe area several decades ago may now find their home regularly in the path of catastrophe.

But what about the fact that these people choose to stay in disaster-prone areas? Sure, there may have initially been no risk in that location, but now that there is, doesn’t their choice to stay make any disaster that befalls them a case of bad option luck?

The Luck Egalitarian would say “yes” – but only if a homeowner actually has a choice in the matter. Sadly, many don’t. Selling a home that’s at risk of imminent destruction is hard. What’s more, selling it for a price that allows the occupants to afford a new home in a safer area is even more difficult. For this reason, many disaster-prone homeowners find themselves stranded – unable to afford to move. So, if someone builds a home in an area that later becomes disaster-prone, and – as a result – cannot afford to move, the Luck Egalitarian will still see the destruction of their home as a case of bad brute luck.

But there’s one final complication – namely, the role played by insurance. According to some Luck Egalitarians, the availability of affordable insurance is sufficient to convert bad brute luck into bad option luck. Why? Consider the lightning example again. Suppose that automotive lightning strikes are frequent in my area, but that full lightning coverage for my car is available for only $1 per month. I, however, opt not to purchase this insurance and instead spend my money on something more frivolous. Suppose, then, that the inevitable happens and my car is destroyed by a random bolt of lightning. While the lightning might be an “act of God,” the loss of my car is not. Why?

Because that loss is a combination of both the lightning and my calculated gamble to not purchase insurance. I, essentially, signed up for the loss of my car.

This is why insurance is so important when considering what we owe to disaster-prone homeowners. If affordable insurance is widely available – and a homeowner refuses to purchase it – any disaster that befalls them will be a case of bad option luck. This will mean that – for the Luck Egalitarian, at least – the rest of us have no specific moral obligations to help those individuals. When such insurance isn’t available, however (as it no longer is for many residents of Louisiana and Florida) the story changes. Those who (1) built their homes in previously safe areas that have now become disaster-prone; (2) subsequently cannot afford to move; and (3) inevitably find themselves the victims of natural disasters are victims of bad brute luck. And this may very well put strong moral obligations on the rest of us to come to their aid – either as individuals, or through our elected government. As the climate crisis worsens – and more and more homes become uninsurable – the need for this kind of assistance will only grow.

Climate Change is Unjust War: Kyle Fruh and Marcus Hedahl

Most of us probably think of war as violent conflict between countries. There are aggressors and victims, and it’s essentially a battle between groups of people. My guests today, Kyle Fruh and Marcus Hedahl, complicate this notion of war. They argue that many island nations around the world are currently in a war and fighting for their survival. For these places, the enemy isn’t other nation states, it’s climate change.

For the episode transcript, download a copy or read it below.

Send questions or comments to examiningethics@gmail.com.

Links to people and ideas mentioned in the show

  1. “Climate Change is Unjust War” by Kyle Fruh and Marcus Hedahl
  2. Just War Theory
  3. Solar Radiation Management
  4. War in the “William James sense“
  5. Environmental Modification Convention

Credits

Thanks to Evelyn Brosius for our logo. Music featured in the show:

“Golden Grass” by Blue Dot Sessions

“Pintle 1 Min” by Blue Dot Sessions

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

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Ethical Obligations to Climate Refugees

photograph of waves threatening coastal city

This article has a set of discussion questions tailored for classroom use. Click here to download them. To see a full list of articles with discussion questions and other resources, visit our “Educational Resources” page.

According to projections, by 2060 the lower third of Florida, home to 8 million residents, will be underwater. Within just a few decades many of Miami Beach’s landmarks will be lost. In response, some areas plan to fight rising sea levels with new infrastructure and new sea walls while other areas plan for a “managed retreat.” However, there are many more places around the world where there isn’t the money or capability to prevent homes from slipping into the water. People losing their homes to the sea means that they will need to go somewhere, and as time goes on we can expect to see a rising number of climate refugees. So, what are our ethical obligations to those being displaced?

Climate change is causing the melting of ice sheets and glaciers and the expansion of sea water. Current estimates show that sea levels are rising by 3.6 mm per year. A 2019 study projected that sea levels will rise by 69-111 cm by 2100. (In February, however, a paper in Ocean Science argued that previous projections have been conservative and that sea level rises will be higher.) What this means is that by 2100, we can expect significant threats to many areas of human habitation. In addition to Florida, which faces a number of climate challenges, Brazil, Egypt, Cameroon, China, India, and Indonesia will all face serious problems. For Bangladesh, rising sea levels represents a growing existential threat. Flooding owing to rising sea levels could result in the displacement of hundreds of millions of climate refugees. Indeed, while 2011 estimates had 187 million people potentially having to flee their homes, recent figures now project that as many as 630 million people (that is roughly 12% of Earth’s population) may be displaced.

But this is not simply a humanitarian crisis where we might feel obligated to lend a hand. The fact that the relationship between rising sea levels and climate change is generally well known changes the moral situation. Our intervention is demanded not (only) as a response to those desperately in need of help, but as a matter of justice given the harms we’re responsible for. If a nation or group of nations emits carbon, which in turn raises sea levels, and thus causes people to be displaced from their homes, surely there is an added moral dimension concerning what aid is owed to climate refugees. Given their particular contribution to the problem, what unique obligations might Western nations, for example, bear?

First, there are potential legal obligations. According to international law, people who are fleeing persecution in their country can seek to enter another. However, the current definition of “refugee” doesn’t apply to people who flee their homes because of climate displacement. Recently this controversy was addressed by the UN Human Rights Committee, who in 2020, ruled that climate migrants cannot be returned to countries where their lives might be threatened by climate change. Unfortunately, this is not binding; the issue is controversial and remains disputed. There are some who believe that the original 1951 convention on refugees should be interpreted to include those who are fleeing climate disasters. Others, like Alexander Betts and Nina Birkeland have argued against trying to redefine what it means to be a refugee because it would be impractical; renegotiating the convention would likely result in a worse deal for refugees.

Where does this leave us? According to the “conventional view” as described by Joseph Carens, states are free to exercise considerable discretionary control over the admission and exclusion of immigrants. As this is a power often considered an inherent part of what it means to be sovereign, it would seem that nations are not obligated to help climate refugees. Indeed, international libertarians argue that the only obligations that extend beyond a state’s border concern respecting other nations’ right to self-determination and refraining from harming them. (Though an important exception to this is refugees who are governed under international agreement.)

Putting aside the legal matter of potential obligations, there are those who argue that a state should provide aid and accept climate refugees if that nation has disproportionately benefited from the combustion of fossil fuels. Since many Western nations are largely responsible for the increased carbon emissions, the rising sea levels, and thus the environmental disasters that follow, it is argued that the developed world has a special responsibility not only to restrict emissions, but to protect and assist the global poor who are facing fallout from said disasters. On the other hand, there are critics who argue that historical responsibility as a justification for an obligation to assist migrants is problematic.

The polluter pays principle, for example, holds that those who pollute should bear the costs of managing the fallout. In other words, responsibility is tied to historical facts. It suggests that a nation like the United States should be obligated to aid climate refugees because of its role in causing the problem. However, there are difficulties in attributing blame in this way because of our inability to identify the specific harms done and to trace them back to specific causal factors. This complicates our ability to say that any particular nation might be obligated to accept certain refugees. There is also disagreement about how far back this kind of responsibility goes. Should a nation be held just as accountable for emissions dating back to a time when the effects of climate change were not well known? Theorists, like David Miller, have argued that emissions prior to the 1980s were not inherently harmful and so don’t count towards historical responsibility.

On the other hand, some philosophers argue that considerations of historical responsibility are beside the point; what we owe to climate refugees need not depend on establishing causality. For example, Jamie Draper argues that high-emitting states have a responsibility to climate refugees because even since the 1980s there has been a foreseeable connection between rising carbon emissions and harmful consequences of climate change. Because of this a nation like the United States can be said to be obligated to help regardless of the specifics concerning the causal relationship. These nations were well aware of the risks; they knew their emissions would generate harmful effects. Their failure to take the appropriate precautions render them a guilty party. For Draper, it isn’t a causal connection, but a failure to take due care that obligates nations to aid climate refugees.

It is to recognize that this is a problem being felt today, not merely one we must plan to confront in the future. There are already millions of people facing the prospect of fleeing their home. Addressing this problem means answering difficult questions: Does it matter who caused climate change? Should one’s ability to bear these costs be factored in? Do nations, or regions, or corporations, or individuals bear the blame? Is there such a thing as collective responsibility that we all share? Will our moral and legal frameworks catch up before it’s too late?

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The Ethics of Animal Dis-Enhancement

photograph of chickens packed into pens at poultry farm

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Human beings have long treated animals not as sentient beings, but as objects or products to be used and consumed. We do this in spite of the fact that animals demonstrate every sign of having mental lives. We have the same reasons to believe that animals have mental lives that we do to believe that other human beings have mental lives; the best evidence we have is behavior. Humans report having affection for animals. Nevertheless, we intensively farm them for food and use them for medical experiments, activities which are quite painful and lead to suffering, permanent disability, and/or death. Engaging in these activities requires compartmentalization and moral disengagement.

The tension arises because humans want to use animals for all of the purposes that they typically use them for, but they also don’t want the animals to feel pain or to suffer if it can be prevented. Under ordinary conditions, when faced with this choice, humans use animals rather than exhibit care for their suffering. Recently, some scientists and philosophers have suggested an alternative solution: genetically engineering farm and research animals to experience little to no suffering. Recent research on pain suggests that it is registered in the brain in two places. The first is in the primary or somatosensory cortex, which establishes the nature of the pain (burning, throbbing, etc.). The second involves the affective dimension which happens in the anterior cingulate cortex. This area controls not the pain itself, but how much the sentient creature minds the pain. Either area could be genetically engineered to reduce the discomfort experienced by the animal.

Advocates of this approach care about animal pain and suffering; if they didn’t, they would remain satisfied with the status quo. They are advocating what philosophers frequently refer to as an approach in line with non-ideal theory. The distinction between ideal and non-ideal theory is a meta-ethical distinction, that is, it is a distinction between different theories of what ethics is and how we ought to approach it. Ideal theorists argue that ethics should be concerned with identifying the correct moral theory and then directing behavior so that it conforms to that standard. The non-ideal theorist, on the other hand, acknowledges that everyone would follow the ideal theory in a perfect world, but emphasizes that we don’t live in such a world. As such, our ethical theorizing should situate itself in the world that we actually inhabit, with all of its flaws and imperfections — a world where we perhaps can’t or shouldn’t expect everyone’s compliance or agreement on all things at all times.

When it comes to dis-enhancement, these non-ideal theorists often acknowledge that it would be best if we simply stopped exploiting animals and using them as objects for human purposes. They also recognize, however, that animal advocates have been shouting their messages from the rooftops for decades, even centuries in some parts of the world. To the extent that these messages are being heard, they are also largely being dismissed. If we are going to continue to use animals for food and research, at least we could do so in a way that minimizes pain. This may not realize what true justice demands, but it may represent incremental change toward that ideal state of affairs.

Opponents of dis-enhancement make several different kinds of arguments. First, they argue that dis-enhancement leaves animals vulnerable. The ability to experience and to care about pain is an evolutionary mechanism that helps creatures to avoid danger. If there is no longer any fear of pain because dis-enhanced animals do not feel it, then animals could die from otherwise avoidable risk. In response to these claims, the non-ideal theorist might argue that the unfortunate truth is that these animals aren’t going to be venturing out into the wide world in which they might make bad decisions. Their fate is certain — they are destined to live lives during which they are imprisoned and used and then discarded. If this is the case, why not do what we can to make their existences less unpleasant?

Opponents argue further that our willingness to do this to non-human animals highlights the extent of our speciesism — our tendency to direct our moral concern only to members of certain species on the basis of species membership alone. Imagine that a scientist wanted to create a group of people to enslave and abuse. The scientist doesn’t want to cause the resultant humans any pain, so he creates them without the ability to experience it. It is reasonable to suppose that many people would object to this experiment. Would their objections be justified? How is this different from creating a horde of robotic slaves? If we react negatively to this thought experiment, but not to dis-enhancing animals, what could explain our reaction other than speciesism?

Margaret Atwood’s novel Oryx and Crake takes place in a futuristic universe that is increasingly bioengineered. At one point, Crake, who is working in the “Neo-agricultural Department” at a research university takes the main character, Jimmy, to observe a new method of food production. They are growing parts of chickens — only the breasts — for the purposes of food. Crake says,

“You get chicken breasts in two weeks – that’s a three-week improvement on the most efficient low-light, high-density chicken farming operation so far devised. And the animal-welfare freaks won’t be able to say a word, because this thing feels no pain.”

Crake’s laboratory is experimenting with animal parts, but, at least at this point in the story, they are not creating sentient beings. They are just chicken breasts, they aren’t having lived experiences of the world, they don’t have preferences or a dignity to contend with. (Consider in vitro meat, which allows scientists to create meat and organs to eat or to test on without changing the genetic structure of future sentient animals.)

When it comes to farm and research animals who have been “dis-enhanced,” we are still dealing with sentient creatures that have experiences of their world. They may lack the ability to feel or to care about feeling their own pain, but they still have a set of dispositions to behave in certain ways and have the ability to develop preferences. This makes them different from robots or disembodied chicken breasts. They are aware of their own experiences. Some opponents argue that respect for the lived experiences of sentient creatures demands that researchers refrain from playing Frankenstein with their bodies in ways that have serious consequences.

In response, advocates of dis-enhancement might appeal again to the non-ideal nature of the theory under which they are operating. They might agree that it would be wonderful if everyone respected the dignity of sentient creatures. Unfortunately, that isn’t going to happen. Given this, dis-enhancement might be our best chance at reducing or eliminating the massive amounts of suffering that these processes entail.

Another objection to dis-enhancement comes from the perspective of environmental virtue ethics. Are we oriented virtuously toward the natural world and the living creatures on it if we respond to the crises that we face with dis-enhancement? Consider the following parallel case. One way of responding to climate change is to engage in geoengineering. One form that this can take is changing the chemical constitution of our atmosphere in such a way as to roll back or lessen the effects of global warming. Opponents of geoengineering point out that when a child messes up their room, the right thing to do is get them to clean it and teach them how to keep it clean rather than searching for ways to mess it up ever further without consequences. By analogy, we should limit our greenhouse gas emissions and try to clean up the mess we’ve made rather than pursuing geoengineering strategies that threaten to produce ever more mess.

Critics of dis-enhancement argue that we should adopt the same standard of responsibility when it comes to cruelty to animals. Instead of finding ways to engage in cruel behavior without causing pain, we should simply stop engaging in cruel behavior. Treating animals in the way that we do is an exhibition of vicious character. Even if it has little effect on the animals because they have been dis-enhanced and don’t feel pain, the philosopher Immanuel Kant’s observations may be useful here. He says that we “must practice kindness towards animals, for he who is cruel to animals becomes hard also in his dealings with men. We can judge the heart of a man by his treatment of animals.” If we behave callously toward dis-enhanced sentient animals because they don’t experience pain, the consequence may be that we are increasingly callous and cruel toward the beings that do.

The question of dis-enhancement is ultimately a question of how we should view the relationship between human beings and the natural world. Should it be a conqueror’s relationship to the conquered? Are we so depraved as a species that it would be naïve for us ever to expect broad scale changes? Or is there hope that we can someday view ourselves as empathetic fellow participants in biotic communities?

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Collective Action and Climate Change: Consumption, Defection, and Motivation

photograph of dry, cracked earth with grass growing on a few individual pieces

This article has a set of discussion questions tailored for classroom use. Click here to download them. To see a full list of articles with discussion questions and other resources, visit our “Educational Resources” page.

Last month, the United Nations held talks regarding international climate agreements in hopes to abate and adapt to the changes to our global environment due to the industrialization and emissions by humans. With the president of the United States vocally skeptical about the moral imperative to action, other countries have been considering defection from previous joint commitments. If the United States continues to consume resources at its current rate, the United Nations’ climate goals will not be possible. This is a feature of climate change agreements: they impact nations differently, irrespective of any country’s particular contribution to the problem. Thus, tied up with the responsibility to commit to taking action is the question of whether there should be different burdens depending on the level of industrialization and development (i.e., consumption) of the nation in question.

Environmental ethicist Martino Traxler distinguishes between two approaches in assigning the duties and burdens for responding to climate change. The first approach would be “just”, in that it takes into consideration the historical context in which we now find ourselves, as well as the power/structure dynamics at play. For instance, placing identical duties on all countries to reduce energy consumption equally doesn’t attend to countries’ differing ability to pay, varying causal contributions to the current state of things, and the extent to which various countries have unequally benefited from previous policies and activities that were environmentally damaging. For instance, some developing nations are improving economically by taking advantage of some less-clean technologies, and it is arguably hypocritical for developed nations with a history of colonialism, imperialism, or military interference/manipulation to intervene at this stage and charge the developing nations with the responsibility to reduce their pollution. Such a policy would slow the progress toward leveling the international playing field. Countries that are developing now and changing the shape of their economies in order to grow out of poverty may have greater claim to use resources that have damaging effects on the environment than countries that have put the globe in a place of climate crisis while at the same time creating conditions for global poverty that allowing the use of environment-damaging resources would go some distance to alleviate.

Thus, some examples just approaches to alleviating the impact of climate change would be to make:

  1. Benefiters pay (in proportion to benefits)
  2. Polluters pay (in proportion to responsibility)
  3. Richest pay (in proportion to their ability)

This would distribute burdens unevenly internationally, and typically nations that have more industrialized infrastructure would bear heavier burdens than those nations that are in the process of building their economies. This can be concerning for the most-developed nations and the nations that have experienced the most power and privilege historically. For nations that already have systems of infrastructure that involve emitting greenhouse gases, for instance, committing to being more environmentally responsible according to the just approach can amount to committing to a strikingly different way of life. Some still may recall George H. W. Bush’s declaration at the 1992 Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro that “The American way of life is not up for negotiations. Period.” In 2012 in Rio de Janeiro, delegates noted that a child born in the developed world consumes 30 to 50 times as much water as one born in the developing world, emphasizing the different relations to resource consumption depending on the ways of life established in one’s society.

These features highlight how a “just” approach to burden sharing may disincentivize the richest, most internationally powerful nations from agreeing to combating climate change. The alternative approach style is a “fair” model of burden allocation, which has each nation share evenly in the responsibility to remain in a safe zone of resource consumption and emission standards. The fair approach presents a clean slate and looks forward, rather than backward at the contextual perspective of the just approach. The approach is fair in the sense that there is even distribution of responsibility, but most find the just approach more appropriate. Are there reasons why we might find the fair model appealing? The breakdown at the UN last month suggests several reasons why.

When we face an issue like climate change, nations need to determine how to act together. It’s difficult enough to determine the path for a single country or nation, but collective action like this requires agreement and commitment that structurally resembles classic dilemmas from game theory and economics. Traxler argues that because of these structural similarities, we should opt for fair rather than just allocations. In short, because the cost of the rich countries deferring is so great, we need to construct agreements that don’t over-burden them. As we see this year with countries like China and India hesitating to make commitments to change if the U.S. isn’t on board, Traxler may be onto something. In modeling climate change agreements in terms of incentivizing the related parties to not defer, Traxler is suggesting that we face an international Prisoner’s Dilemma.

The Prisoner’s Dilemma is a classic problem in game theory. The puzzle arises when what is in the best interest of a collective diverges from what is in the interest of an individual. The Prisoner’s Dilemma is set up as follows: two burglars (or criminals of some sort) are arrested and separated so they cannot coordinate. The authorities are attempting to get a confession from at least one of the burglars to aid in their investigation and conviction. If both burglars remain silent, they will each receive a sentence of 1 year. The authorities are attempting to incentivize cooperating with them because they would get information and successful convictions. However, the information will be most useful if one burglar cooperates and turns on the other, allowing the authorities to “throw the book” at one of them. Therefore, if one of the burglars betrays their comrade and gives information to the authorities while the other remains silent, this would result in the betrayer going free and the silent conspirator getting a 3 year sentence. If both burglars attempt to achieve this end (confessing in hopes that the other remains silent), the authorities have information on both of them and neither can go free. Instead, both will serve 2 years. Each burglar thus faces the decision of whether to cooperate with their conspirator or betray them and confess to the authorities. The possible combinations and outcomes are displayed in the table below.

The reason this poses a game theoretic dilemma is that the ideal outcome for each burglar is to exploit the cooperation of the other (i.e., to betray while the other stays silent). This creates a scenario where what is in the individual’s best interest is at odds with what is in their collective interest; if we consider the burglars together as a group and evaluate what would get the best outcome overall, then they should both remain silent. If, however, the individual aims for his or her best individual outcome, then there is great pressure to defect so as to potentially receive the best individual outcome (go free) and always avoid the worst (3 years).

As individual nations, it is in our best interest to over-consume and hope that the rest of the international community behaves responsibly and attempts to save the planet. That way we enjoy the benefits of our consumption of resources AND the benefits of the rest of the international community’s conservation efforts. BUT! If everyone in the international community behaves this way (parallel to both burglar’s betraying their partnership), we end up in a bad scenario. What is in the interest of the collective is for everyone to cooperate, but individual interests encourages us to over-consume.

The structure of the Prisoner’s Dilemma arises in a few areas of public life, not just among police bargaining with alleged criminals. The key to the dilemma is that what is collectively rational comes apart at times from what is individually rational. This is also the tension in Tragedy of the Commons cases. The Tragedy of the Commons describes cases in economics or scenarios in shared-resources situations where the best thing to do from an individual level is to consume more than others, but this focus on immediate use leads to a situation such that our shared ability to use the resource over time is undermined.

Described by William Forster Lloyd in the 19th century, we could imagine a case of the Tragedy as a river by a village that sustains an ecosystem containing fish. If the village fishes in the river some reasonable amount over time, the river is sufficient to replenish itself and feed the village. So, collectively speaking, it’s rational for the village to maintain fishing levels at this restrained rate. However, at an individual level, each villager is in a position where they have access to a resource that is potential income, and though it undermines the future use of the river and the other villagers’ potential use of the resource, overfishing to get more food and more resources is in the individual’s best interest. Thus in a similar way that the burglars have conflicting strategies in the Prisoner’s Dilemma, in shared-resource scenarios, there is tension between individual and collective interests.

In order to avoid countries defecting and not living up to the commitment to abate climate change, we may need to “sweeten the deal” a bit, according to Traxler and not go with the just approach that would perhaps be too burdensome to the richest, most industrialized nations. This would give them fewer reasons to over-consume and ignore the agreements. However, it would also perhaps produce less pressure for the richest and most able countries to aggressively researching “cleaner” alternatives to the technology so that they may continue something like their current ways of life.

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Procreative Autonomy and Climate Change

photograph of father walking with daughter in the water on the beach

This article has a set of discussion questions tailored for classroom use. Click here to download them. To see a full list of articles with discussion questions and other resources, visit our “Educational Resources” page.

From record-setting wildfires raging the Amazon to rising sea levels and melting ice caps, the devastating effects of climate change are becoming ever more apparent. Scientific data maintains that much of the rise in average global temperature is a direct result of human activities that emit heat-trapping greenhouse gases. The effects of climate change that we are currently facing are a consequence of a one-degree Celsius increase in average global temperature when compared to pre-industrial times. At this rate, we will experience up to a 4°C increase in average warming by 2100, which will only exacerbate and magnify the already rampant environmental degradation.

Fortunately, this future is avoidable as long as mitigating measures are rapidly implemented at the individual, community, and national levels. Recent analysis suggests that if immediate changes to halt climate change are made, carbon emissions can be lessened within 12 years, which will keep the rise in average temperature to 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels. Given that our actions now are crucial to the future of the biosphere and consequently the future of all people, climate-conscious individuals recognize the urgent need for change.

Even though scientific consensus asserts the existence of climate change, to global warming and climate change skeptics, this is still a point of contention. But to the rest, the numerous impacts of climate change can raise valid concerns over the sustainability of natural resources, and the kind of dystopian reality future generations will be grappling with in their lifetime if we do not act now.

A contentious resolution that has been proposed is factoring in climate change when deciding whether or not to have children and how many, if at all. Climate change has forced people to contemplate the ethics of having children in a consistently warming and thereby deteriorating world. Curtailing the population means the environment will suffer a reduced impact due to human activities, which will translate to a higher standard of living for the remaining population in terms of an increase in per capita availability of natural resources. Earlier this year, Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez faced criticism from conservatives following her Instagram live stream in which she pondered, “Basically, there’s a scientific consensus that the lives of children are going to be very difficult. And it does lead, I think, young people to have a legitimate question: Is it okay to still have children?”

For BirthStrikers, the answer is decidedly tough but evident. UK-based environmental activist Blythe Pepino set up BirthStrike, a voluntary organization for people who have made the decision to not have children given the inevitable environmental deterioration looming in the future. Pepino maintains that BirthStrike does not aim to dissuade people from bearing children but to instead spotlight the exigency of the ecological crisis. BirthStrikers are a part of a growing movement of people who have made this decision and the movement continues to gain momentum as conversations regarding the ethics of bearing children are fostered in groups of climate-conscious people.

On the other hand, some are quick to dismiss the notion of limiting procreation due to climate change as absurd, such as Republican Sen. Mike Lee of Utah who in March, stated that the solution to climate change is having more babies. On the Senate floor, Lee shared his solution in a presentation, declaring that, “More babies will mean forward-looking adults, the sort we need to tackle long-term large-scale problems.”

Tyler Cowen, a professor of economics at George Mason University echoes Lee’s thoughts on climate change and bearing children. Cowen argues that having more children and increasing the population of a nation would also increase the chances of nation coming up with innovative solutions to climate change. Cowen states, “If progress on climate change is at all possible, someone will need to contribute to it,” and goes on to explain that the most promising people who will do so is our potential children, especially if we are climate-conscious.

However, Lee and Cowen’s reasoning does not account for the series of carbon footprints our descendants will be producing which will collectively continue to add to the problem we are aiming to solve. Lee and Cowen also fail to address scientific data that deals with decisions made at the individual level, with recent research pointing to having children being detrimental to the environment given its already fragile state. Researchers calculated that having one less child would result in a family in an industrialized nation conserving 58.6 tons of carbon dioxide each year, which is much more efficient than other proposed solutions to limiting carbon dioxide production such as giving up cars (saving 2.4 tons) and flying (saving 1.6 tons per transatlantic flight).

Discussing the prospect of not having children as a legitimate solution to climate change gives rise to other ethical concerns such as our right to bear children and the innate value of procreation. Procreative autonomy is one of many forms of autonomy people can employ to govern their lives and an extension of one’s right to liberty. In the context of human reproduction, exercising procreative autonomy means having total freedom in their choices regarding bearing children and, ultimately, retaining dominion over one’s body. Implementing policies to curb procreation interferes with individual procreative autonomy. While this value is of great significance, we might wonder whether whatever right we might have to it is absolute. If every individual possesses an inherent right to bear children, does this right also mean that an individual should have as many children as they want without any regard for the environmental consequences of their decision?

The instinct theory of human procreation states that all animals including humans have an inherent and fundamental desire to procreate, which is why almost all animals reproduce. This theory goes on to explain that if humans do not procreate, having left their purpose unfulfilled, will be unhappy. This theory is not without its flaws – the notion of an intrinsic desire for progeny lacks supporting empirical data. The urge to procreate is not universal amongst humans – people have and still choose not to experience parenthood simply because that is not what they want. In this light, the procreation-instinct theory comes across as an oversimplification of human nature.

If population growth is to be regulated to resolve climate change, can governmental restrictions on the number of children one can bear ever be justified? Sarah Conley, a philosophy professor at Bowdoin College argues it can indeed be justified in her 2005 journal article, The Right to Procreation: Merits and Demerits. Conley explains that if procreative autonomy is considered a right or an extension of the freedom to live life on our own terms, then restricting the number of children one can have would be an encroachment of this right. But Conley also notes that, “Imposing one’s children on an overpopulated world is also a kind of interference […] in the lives of others in that world. Whose desire should trump?” Comparing the significance of different people’s rights, Conley points out how one person’s right to something can outweigh another person’s right to something else, and how the more basic a right is, the more difficult it would be to supersede. Even though it would be repressive for a government to regulate the number of children one can bear, it may be even more repressive to rob others of the right to basic needs of life by contributing to overpopulation, which would deplete finite natural resources. Hence, Conley believes that governmental restrictions on childbearing is ethically admissible because unlimited procreation would impinge on others’ fundamental rights even more so than governmental limitations on procreation would interfere with one’s procreative autonomy.

Regardless of where one stands on this issue, decisions about bearing children remain deeply personal. While all people have the right to bear children, the fact is that overpopulation and the resulting increase in human activities are contributing to climate change. Whether you regard the climate impact of having a child an important consideration or not, taking action to remedy climate change is becoming ever more pressing and contemplating the ethical concerns climate change presents can serve as a driver to help us arrive at an equitable solution.

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The Amazon Fires: Responsibility, Obligation, and the Limitations of the State

satellite image of amazon fires

This article has a set of discussion questions tailored for classroom use. Click here to download them. To see a full list of articles with discussion questions and other resources, visit our “Educational Resources” page.

President Jair Bolsonaro of Brazil refused to accept proposed aid from members of the G7 for the Amazon fires, in part because of a personal feud with President Emmanuel Macron of France about the respective leaders’ wives. Yet the Amazon rainforest continues to burn. Another concern of the Brazilian government is the implication that accepting foreign aid has for the country’s sovereignty. President Bolsonaro alleged that the French president “disguises his intentions behind the idea of an ‘alliance’ of the G7 countries to ‘save’ the Amazon, as if we were a colony or a no-man’s land.” But should President Bolsonaro’s refusal for aid continue and the burning of the Amazon continue, what is the next step? Who, if anyone, has an obligation to put out the fires? When is it justified to defy national sovereignty?

To violate a country’s sovereignty is a dramatic move; the cause would have to be of great importance. In 1999, the then-UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan defined the modern state as “instruments at the service of their people.” Failure of the state to deliver services to its people would warrant external aid. The UN Charter states that member states should refrain from “the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state, or in any other manner inconsistent with the Purposes of the United Nations.” 

But the definition of the modern state and Purposes of the UN speak only to human concerns; nowhere is there an acknowledgement of environmental concerns. Even though conventions have been devised, the impasse regarding aid for the fires reveals a hole in the recommendations of international organizations. Even the recommendations about natural disasters do not apply given that the fires were apparently ignited by farmers clearing land for agriculture.

While the United Nations is not an authority on ethics in international relations, its charter is a useful touchstone given that its prescriptions often advise the international community’s response to global events. The burning of the Amazon, however, presents a non-standard case. Violating national sovereignty is often justified by protecting the lives of humans. But how should the international community respond to threats to non-human life?

Celebrities, NGOs, and political leaders alike have called the Amazon “the lungs of the world” given the amount of oxygen it produces. For that reason alone, it would appear that this fire is directly affecting the livelihood of humanity; thus, falling under the umbrella of justifications of acceptable international intervention. But some individuals have cast doubt on the claims about the rainforest’s contribution to the planet’s oxygen. 

“The Amazon produces about 6 percent of the oxygen currently being made by photosynthetic organisms alive on the planet today,” writes Peter Brannen. “[F]rom a broader Earth-system perspective, in which the biosphere not only creates but also consumes free oxygen, the Amazon’s contribution to our planet’s unusual abundance of the stuff is more or less zero.” Speaking to Forbes, Dr. Dan Nepstad of the Earth Innovation Institute called the popular descriptor of lungs “bullshit”, saying that the Amazon uses as much oxygen as it produces through respiration. The significance of the photosynthetic production of air and the Amazon’s instrumental value may be exaggerated. 

Even so, the Amazon basin contains incredible biodiversity, housing a staggering 10% of the known species on Earth despite occupying only 1% of the planet’s surface area. The rainforest is the largest of its kind in the world. The river that slices through the rainforest is the longest in the world. By any measure, the Amazon is a natural wonder, irrespective of its relationship with humans. And some argue that it possesses its own intrinsic value. 

Writing on one view of the intrinsic value of nature, Professor Ronald Sandler states: “[N]atural entities, including species and some ecosystems, have intrinsic value in virtue of their independence from human design and control and their connection to human-independent evolutionary processes.” Proponents of this view would argue that the Amazon ought to be protected not because of its value to us–be that in the form of oxygen or bewonderment–but because it has value without us.

Suppose then that the Amazon has intrinsic value and is, thus, worthy of protecting: is anyone obligated to protect it when the government in which it is in is failing to do so? Some may reference the dictum that those with the means to help are obligated to help. But the ethical expectations for individuals may not seamlessly apply to the ethical obligations of organizations. The discussion becomes more complex when considering non-state actors, such as NGOs, which do not operate under the same responsibilities.

NGOs whose cause it is to protect and encourage the biodiversity of different natural environments may see the perceived inaction of the Brazilian government as moral permission to intervene and provide aid. In some cases, non-governmental intervention occurs without any controversy, such as when an NGO delivers assistance to a developing country that is unable to provide clean water to its people. These organizations are likely in a better position to avoid the claims of sovereignty violation that have hampered the acceptance of foreign state aid simply because they are not pursuing a national state agenda. 

Yet while NGOs are able to help, there are some disadvantages to having them do so. They lack the democratic accountability of a state actor; they are not responsible for anything but pursuing their cause. Because of that they could feasibly maintain a presence in the country past the point that it is necessary and undermine the government’s ability to act. 

States, however, do not suffer from the same disadvantages and are constrained by international norms.  But if they are indeed “instruments at the service of their people,” states would appear to be obligated only to serving their people. It is not clear that states have the obligation to intervene in the destruction of a natural environment in another country. Furthermore, it is not clear if it would even be permissible to do so. International agreement on the notion that nature has intrinsic value may prove elusive, leaving the question of who should put out the fires unanswered, even if everyone agrees the fires should be put out. Perhaps the burning of the Amazon illustrates the growing obsolescence of our modern definition of the state.