Ethical Arithmetic, and a Matter of Opinion

Lots of things to come back to, but first, an exercise in categorization. (Note: I imagine something like this has been done before, potentially by utilitarians, but it's been a while since I've read any.)

First, I propose that there is a quantitative and highly descriptive measure of one's ethics: The ratio S of the amount of suffering one will undergo to prevent similar suffering in others. The most fundamental example is the case of giving one's life to save that of another. Under egalitarian assumptions about the value of life, this is a ratio of exactly 1:1.

Some caveats: real-world ethical behavior is almost invariably more complicated than this. Firstly, there is the problem of quantitative measurements of suffering. There are as many valuations of suffering as there are people, but still, this is only a difficulty of measurement. For now, the individual is asked to rely on their own judgment of the relative merits of, say, long-term malnourishment vs. a swift kick to the testicles.

Secondly, there is the blanket term "others". In practice, people value the suffering of others at very different rates, depending on their relation to them. Alternatively, other humans represent a continuum of self-ness and other-ness. The exemplary case is the common willingness of parents to sacrifice for the well-being of their children. Note that under the alternate terminology, this suggests that these parents identify more with their children than with themselves. Conversely, someone may be generally considerate, but have a particular animosity for some foe, and delight in that person's every setback. For the purposes of this exercise, I will base the quantity S on perfect strangers.

Thirdly, there is the problem of agency. Most people, I would estimate, are more likely to allow suffering to occur than to actively create it. Most likely, this can be accounted for by the time, effort, and anxiety incurred by performing such an action, or by veering from one's ordinary course. In that case, this becomes a sub-problem of valuation.

Also related to valuation is the problem of the perception of suffering in others. People cannot take action to prevent suffering they are not aware of. Perceiving suffering requires the trait of empathy, and the ability to witness or imagine the suffering of others. In the interconnected modern world, most moral failures are failures of imagination.

Returning to the initial notion of S: S is the ratio of S_s, the amount of suffering undergone by the individual, to S_o, the amount of suffering prevented in the generic other. On a tentative basis, let's equate the creation of joy/pleasure with the prevention of suffering (though this is, I suspect, much more subjective than pain and suffering). Anyway, on to categorization:

S < 0: This is Sadism. Such a person goes out of their way to cause pain to others. They might, for example, work several days tarring roofs, in order to save up money for a pair of steel-toed boots, in order to more satisfyingly deliver a swift kick to your testicles. The problems of agency and empathy come up here in reverse -- such a person is more likely to enjoy their own actions than to be pleased, in the abstract, by starvation in distant countries. Also note that values of S less than -1 represent the radical case of someone who might, for example, break their own arm in order to make you late for the theater.

S = 0: At precisely 0, the person is said to be a Sociopath or Solipsist. For the solipsist, this might more fairly be called the case where S is undefined, since the true solipsist does not allow for an "other" to measure against. By my own reckoning, I consider the sociopath more dangerous than the sadist; if not recognized and prevented, a sociopath will take the most efficient route they can to their goals, whatever those may be, and potentially cause great harm along the way. It is expected that positions of prestige and power will be disproportionately occupied by talented sociopaths unless considerable safeguards are in place. Whether democratic elections, in various forms, effectively provide such safeguards is a matter of heated debate.

0 < S < 1: This represents, I presume, the spectrum of normal human behavior. let's call this Civility: people compromise, do small favors when asked, give charity to the less fortunate (since money is more useful for those who have less), and generally make some effort to avoid harming others. There is, of course, a wide variety here, from those who would risk near-certain death to save the life of another (e.g., a 95% chance of their own death against certainly preventing another's, which yields .95), to those who could hardly be bothered to get off the couch if someone were being crushed under it.

S = 1: This I will call Utilitarianism,"the greatest good for the greatest number." Obviously, a great many previous thinkers have also called this utilitarianism. In its purest form, this case is the most literally selfless, as it makes no distinction between the self and the other. In the ideal case of perfect perception, a society composed of utilitarians will be the happiest, as every action will maximally decrease the net suffering in the world.

S > 1: But wait, there's more! Here we enter the somewhat mystical territory of Altruism. While not selfless in the same way as utilitarianism, and in some sense sub-optimal, I find it hard to call this ethically inferior to the previous case. In a way, it mirrors the case of the sadist, in so far as there are obvious nonsensical scenarios. Few people would, for example, give Warren Buffet $100 as an expression of altruism -- the money could do more good elsewhere, and altruism need not be wholly irrational. What is far more intuitive, though, is a parent (as mentioned above) risking death for even a slim chance of saving their child (for a 75% chance of die-trying against a 25% chance of success, S is 3, and strictly non-utilitarian). Parents, as I said, are a special case, but the calculations are the same for total strangers, even if the attitude is rarer.

Note: This kind of calculation is not actually how people think, of course, especially in emergencies. People are notoriously bad at estimating probability, especially under duress. Rather, it represents how they might think of the situation when given time to reflect. In a crisis, parents are compelled to act by their emotional bond with their child. An equivalent altruist would need to feel the same bond with all humanity.

As long as one does not get to the point of self-destructive behavior, I'm inclined to say that utilitarianism versus altruism is a matter of personal choice, and neither can be said to be wholly superior. Given perfect information, utilitarianism is optimal, but no such thing exists. In practice, it may be perfectly useful to act as though there is more suffering than one can observe at any given time. Furthermore, given that society is not composed solely of utilitarians or altruists, there are almost always numerous opportunities for efficient (S < 1) prevention of suffering, and the difference will only come up in exceptional cases. Still, altruists with very high values of S must take care to avoid debilitating guilt over trivial matters.

Anyway, if you are still reading, congratulations. I feel as though I've only scratched the surface here, but a truly thorough treatment would probably require writing a book. On that note, acknowledgement goes to Rob, who got me thinking about the altruist/utilitarian divide during an unrelated religious hypothetical.

Me: So if we assume Heaven and Hell, then the most moral act is to give up your own salvation for that of another, but --
Rob: You mean, for two others...
*Tangential debate ensues*

Humanism and Anti-Humanism

A problem I've been working on:

As a humanist, I believe in the brotherhood of humanity. That is, the shared identity of being human is primary, and I have no intrinsic quarrel with any other person. But the humanist must be ready to deal with the anti-humanist, generally the chauvinist (who believes in the irrational superiority of his own group).

Now, irrationality does not suggest inferiority. Cultural identity is axiomatic to the chauvinist, just as human identity is to the humanist (I've been very concerned about cultural identities lately, for this reason). But at the most extreme, the chauvinist is prepared to treat the humanist as an enemy based on what the humanist takes to be a trivial detail. What is the appropriate response?

Ethically, the humanist is obliged to be reasonable for as long as possible; these things are rarely cut and dried, and many things that can be seen as conflict are merely failures to communicate. Again, in the most extreme case, rationality no longer plays a role -- we've entered into a sort of Hobbesian state of war between human and human. This may be obvious upon consideration, but peace and rationality rely on mutual consent -- there is no such thing as a unilateral peace.

At this breakdown, there are two choices. One gives primacy to self-defense; once the state of war is entered, one may take any action necessary to defend oneself or others from harm (harm to others must be considered harm to the humanist). This gives rise to the notion that the good are obliged to be dangerous.

The other option is pacifism, which rejects the state of war even at this point. And who is to say this is incorrect? I have mentioned the power of non-violence in discovering the humanity of the oppressor (the anti-humanist is still human at all times). A purely pacifist approach may be going even further, though.

Does the pacifist err in refusing to separate the just cause from the unjust? Or does he achieve something greater, by means of a leap of faith? I don't know that it can be determined. In practicality, one rarely deals with this momentous choice. Still, I think it is informative in how one identifies and deals with opposition of all stripes.

Non-Violence

In non-violence, the method of the oppressed is to confront the oppressor with his own humanity. Whosoever strikes them down strikes down himself, and claims willingly the title of monster and enemy-of-humanity. That such a method can prove effective speaks firstly to the unfathomable courage of the oppressed, but also to the basic decency of the oppressor.

...

The above is a quick paragraph I wrote on the plane this weekend. I don't know that it says anything surprising, but it is my hope that it does so with some style and brevity. Interestingly, the below-mentioned Schmitt argues non-violence is madness and humanism is essentially meaningless.

Authoritarian Morals

From The Concept of the Political, by Carl Schmitt, which (full disclosure) I have yet to finish:

The numerous modifications and variations of this anthropological distinction of good and evil are not reviewed here in detail. Evil may appear as corruption, weakness, cowardice, stupidity, or also as brutality, sensuality, vitality, irrationality, and so on. Goodness may appear in corresponding variations as reasonableness, perfectibility, the capacity of being manipulated, of being taught, peaceful, and so forth.

Italics mine. This quote is somewhat tangential to Schmitt's argument about "the political" as a sphere apart from morals, economics, etc., but some of these concepts seem to be under the wrong heading. Having weakness and vitality together seems fully incoherent, and perhaps Schmitt means to challenge the universality of morals. Nonetheless, given an authoritarian perspective, these make more sense; that "the capacity of being manipulated" is certainly desirable from the perspective of the powerful, and would make the existence of the unified state that Schmitt speaks of much easier.

Not surprisingly, Schmitt speaks of Nietzsche and Hobbes together as philosophers who believe men are "basically evil", despite the fact that their definitions of "good" and "evil" are not very compatible. Of course, Nietzsche speaks repeatedly of ranking and ordering and command. Having last read Beyond Good and Evil, Nietzsche becomes especially problematic, but The Genealogy of Morals, if I recall, provides better justification.

But while the varieties of "evil" offered are contradictory, the varieties of "good" all seem to deal with malleability or lack of power. Goodness and harmlessness are essentially the same thing, from Schmitt's perspective. I argue that this can only speak to a philosophy of living in terror of others. Essentially this is a more comprehensive way of saying that humanity is basically evil -- that anyone capable of doing harm will do so.

By my thinking, if evil exists, the good are obliged to be dangerous. Evil/selfishness/sociopathy are characteristics which intend the accumulation of power without regard for the means, and naturally must impose themselves on others through force and manipulation. Hence, the good are compelled to be capable of resistance on behalf of themselves and others. Said resistance may take organized form, depending on the nature of the threat, but to do so in a compulsory, authoritarian fashion is extremely problematic, if we take human life, freedom, and happiness as paramount. "Reasonability" here is a good because it allows for cooperation among peers and the recognition of a common threat -- rational thinking as a kind of lingua franca, not as purely self-interested "economic rationalism."

Sully'd Ethics

Remember Captain Chesley Sullenberger, hero of New York?

Now, normally, you would expect this blog post to be about his recently discovered coke habit, or those prostitutes he murdered back in the 80s. Why bring up a hero again if not to tear him back down? Travesty can be so satisfying, as can backlash. Hence my misleading photoshop.

But instead I'm going to talk about ethics. Zach and I have discussed this a few times, and Zach's main theme has been that Sullenberger is not a hero -- or at least did not deserve the hyperbole of the time -- because he was "just doing his job."

This much is true. Sullenberger did no more than his duty. He gave up nothing, made no extraordinary sacrifice. Had circumstances required that Sullenberger die to save the lives of his passengers, there could be no question of his heroism. But there was no call for that. It's possible that Sullenberger landed the plane purely for his own survival, and we cannot speak to his motives with certainty. By becoming a pilot, he agreed to take responsibility for all those on the plane. It is only the difficult circumstances he was placed in that separate him from other pilots.

On the other hand, he did no less than his duty. When put to the test, he proved he was capable of fulfilling it. Certainly, no fault can be found with his behavior. And this, it seems clear, led in a large part to his media popularity. It is much easier to celebrate the conclusively, concretely proven than the abstract. It may well be that Sullenberger is not of exceptional skill -- but I think this plays a part as well. There is a certain hunger for reassurance in air travel, where the passenger has no control. The "Miracle on the Hudson" would seem to demonstrate that the faith we have in pilots is not misplaced, and they are all dedicated, courageous men and women. But we only have the one concrete example, who receives all the praise that is due to the anonymous pilot. My other suspicion is that, as a society, we find it easier to celebrate great skill than heroism in the altruistic sense. Note the profound warping of ethics around figures in sports -- and the feverish denunciations when they break some normally insignificant taboo.

And yet, Sullenberger deserves more ethical credit for "just doing his job" than does the average third-baseman. A commercial pilot does take responsibility for thousands of lives over the course of a year, and this should be respected. I don't mean to overly dramaticize this -- commercial aviation is extremely safe, and any of us takes up a similar duty when driving a car. The ethical significance is not really in the landing of the plane, but in the willingness to take up and the ability to carry out the duty. It is only a twist of fate that Sullenberger was put in situation to demonstrate this. Although from what we now know of him, he does seem to be especially knowledgeable and qualified -- top pilot in his class, master's degree, speaker for safety organizations. All this is not without merit, and it does give a certain unshakeable feeling that precidely the right person was called upon to save the day.

And in an almost-too-pat-to-be-believed coincidence, Sullenberger is reported to have lost a book on professional ethics when the plane went down -- which he then reported dutifully to the library from which he borrowed it. If you can wrap your brain around that one, it does speak rather highly of his conscientiousness.

And this is more or less a long-winded attempt to say that yes, he deserves praise, but probably not much more than any of a legion of less-easily-noticed heroes. Like they say, the squeaky wheel gets the parade. And sometimes the squeaky wheel is an indication that you won't be able to lower the landing gear, forcing a hair-raising, two-fisted belly landing. The metaphor gets a bit confused here, but my point stands.

On a slightly tangential point, I'm inclined to think that most really heroic figures can't conceive of it as anything other than "doing their job." If one is secure in one's morals, there is a strong sense that one has no choice to do otherwise. There is plenty of room for doubt and temptation, of course, but the rubber band always snap back. Obviously, I have a very obligation-centered view of ethics, and make no claims to heroism (and don't trust anyone who would), but that is my sense of how it ought to work.

Of course, the most ethical thing you can do now is to scroll down the page and read Alex's hip-hop post, if you haven't already -- Unless doing so would prevent you from saving that busload of third-graders from that tank of sharks. In that case, use your own best judgement.