Tony Milligan

Animal training sits toward the uncomfortably overt end of human dominance. It can involve familiar kinds of harms, but, as commentators such as Vicki Hearne and Donna Haraway have pointed out, it can also enhance animal contentment, capabilities and autonomy. However, unlike socialization, it is not a basic requirement for animal flourishing. The extent and circumstances under which it is legitimate are, consequently, an area for human-animal negotiation rather than a domain in which a strict paternalism is legitimate. The chapter adopts a broadly genealogical approach toward the ethics of training in order to illuminate both how humans have arrived at their current predicament of dominance over nonhuman creatures and the vague sense of unease that accompanies a broadly liberal response to it.

What is love? What is it to be loved? Can we trust love? Is it overrated? These are just some of the questions Tony Milligan pursues in his novel exploration of a subject that has occupied philosophers since the time of Plato. Tackling the mood of pessimism about the nature of love that reaches back through Schopenhauer and Kierkegaard, he examines the links between love and grief, love and nature, and between love of others and loving oneself. We love too few things in the world, Milligan concludes, adding that we need to be loved too, to appreciate our own value and the worth of life itself.

The ethical, societal, and political issues of Mars settlement seem like very distant problems, both spatially and temporally. However, there is a certain urgency to these matters. Whatever humanity does in the coming decades will affect generations upon generations of future humans and other living beings, as well as their environments. The initial agreements about how resources are governed and what kind of regime is established can persist for a long time. There can be a “Founder Effect” in space. This engenders questions about where to begin. Are the primary goals scientific, political, or economic? Will they be realised through international cooperation, or as a private enterprise? Will the first steps be taken in a just manner and for the common good? A settlement can become “locked-in” to initial technological, economic, behavioural, or political solutions, or caught in path dependencies. Inertia can take hold. Moreover, the process of designing and planning Mars settlements can itself become locked in this way, burdened by problematic histories, colonialist ways of thinking about settlements, and problematic values. It may even be the case that humans are neither technologically nor socially ready to settle other worlds.

Space exploration and the search for a better understanding of life have never been entirely separate from one another. This is not simply a matter of policy, a decision by political administrations to combine the two. Rather, it is a matter of the ways in which both draw upon the same scientific culture and upon overlapping societal influences. Some of the latter are the political influences of particular times and particular places, others are of a far broader nature. Progress in one field has tended to be combined with advances in the other. It is a familiar point that, in the very year that NASA was founded, i.e. 1958, the American molecular biologist Joshua Lederberg won a Nobel Prize for his discovery that bacteria can exchange genetic material (a process now known as ‘bacterial conjugation’). This, in turn, was only six years after the classicMiller-Urey experiment to replicate the production of some of the chemical precursors of life. And the Miller-Urey experiment, in turn, overlapped in time with the work of Watson, Crick and Rosalind Franklin in England, on the structure of DNA. Major breakthroughs came in both fields (activity in space and research into life) within the same time-frame, and drew upon at least some of the same background influences and interests. When Lederberg went on to work with NASA on the early programs to look for life on Mars, the progression was, in an everyday sense, natural. Interest in space and interest in life went together. They have always tended to do so.

This review essay contrasts two of the most notable recent contributions to literature on space and society: Daniel Deudney's Dark Skies (2020) and Brian Patrick Green's Space Ethics (2022). The Green volume is a course textbook, geared to giving students an overview of some of the key ethical issues concerning space and how the arguments on these matters are shaping up. Its aim is to provide an overview rather than a specific line of argument. Deudney's text, by contrast, is an example of a book proposing space skepticism. It argues that we should relinquish many of our current ambitions for space expansion on the grounds that they will increase the already significant degree of extinction-level risk that we face. The essay marks the distinction between these texts by contrasting normal- and special-domain approaches. Normal-domain approaches seek to extend familiar ethico-political issues into the discussion about space expansion without regarding space expansion as the road to utopia or extinction. Special-domain approaches hold to some such optimistic or pessimistic view. The essay goes on to highlight the way in which Green's text would benefit from more social critique, along the lines of Deudney. Ultimately, the normal-domain approach presupposed by Green and rejected by Deudney is upheld.

This book describes the state of astrobiology in Europe today and its relation to the European society at large. With contributions from authors in more than 20 countries and over 30 scientific institutions worldwide, the document illustrates the societal implications of astrobiology and the positive contribution that astrobiology can make to European society. The book has two main objectives: 1. It recommends the establishment of a European Astrobiology Institute (EAI) as an answer to a series of challenges relating to astrobiology but also European research, education, and society at large. 2. It also acknowledges the societal implications of astrobiology, and thus the role of the social sciences and humanities in optimizing the positive contribution that astrobiology can make to the lives of the people of Europe and the challenges they face.

This volume brings together a collection of essays on the philosophy of love by leading contributors to the discussion. Particular emphasis is placed upon the relation between love, its character and appropriateness and the objects towards which it is directed: romantic and erotic partners, persons, ourselves, strangers, non-human animals and art. It includes contributions by Aaron Ben Ze’ev (‘Ain’t Love Nothing but Sex Misspelled?’), by Angelika Krebs (‘Between I and Thou – On the Dialogical Nature of Love’), Aaron Smuts (‘Is it Better to Love Better Things?’) and Jan Bransen (‘Loving a Stranger’). By focusing upon the different objects of love, and how the lover enters into a relation with them, the collection pushes beyond the recent debates on reasons for love and breaks new and important ground.

A broadly liberal politics requires political compassion; not simply in the sense of compassion for the victims of injustice, but also for opponents confronted through political protest and (more broadly) dissent. There are times when, out of a sense of compassion, a just cause should not be pressed. There are times when we need to accommodate the dreadfulness of loss for opponents, even when the cause for which they fight is unjust. We may also have to come to terms with the irreversibility of historic injustice and reconcile. Political compassion of this sort carries risks. Pushed too far, it may weaken our commitment to justice through too great a sympathy for those on the other side. It would be convenient if such compassion could be constrained by a clear set of political principles. But principles run the quite different risk of promoting an 'ossified dissent', unable to respond to change. In this book, Tony Milligan argues that principles are only a limited guide to dissent in unique, contingent circumstances. They will not tell us how to deal with the truly difficult cases such as the following: Should the Lakota celebrate Thanksgiving? When is the crossing of a picket-line justified? What kind of toleration must animal rights advocates cultivate to make progress within a broadly liberal political domain? And how should we respond to the entangling of aspiration towards social justice with anger and prejudice (such as the 'anti-Zionist' discourse)? We may be tempted to answer these questions by presupposing that alignment (the business of choosing sides) is ultimately more important than compassion, but sometimes political compassion trumps alignment. Sometimes, being on the right side is not the most important thing.

There are a number of candidate rationales for the settlement of Mars. These are considered in Sect. 10.1. At least one of them is economically plausible: its use as a base of operations for asteroid mining in the Main Belt. This rationale suggests that environmental protection on Mars needs to be considered in a broader context than that of the planet alone. More specifically, the authors argue in Sect. 10.2 that planetary environmental protection is partly a matter of containment and so requires a framing principle. Section 10.3 supplies such a principle for protection, “the 1/8 principle”: while economic growth in space remains exponential and comparable to historical patterns on Earth, we should use no more than 1/8 of the available resources, in order to secure a reasonable ‘breaking distance’ before we reach a point of super-exploitation. Section 10.4 examines the difficulties of applying such a principle to Mars, the need for trade-offs and special weighting for special strategic resources such as uncollapsed lava tubes. Section 10.5 points out the ease with which the principle can be turned into policy options and its good matchup with human practices of valuing and use. The latter considerations may not be decisive, but they do count strongly in its favour.

There are strong links between astrobiology and environmental concern. Astrobiology is the study of the origin, evolution and distribution of life in the universe—including Earth. Understanding life, and in particular the basic conditions for life, is important for our ability to create a sustainable future on Earth. The connection goes both ways, however. The preservation of biodiversity and of pristine environments on Earth is of the greatest importance for our ability to study life, its origin, distribution and future. Of special interest from an astrobiology perspective is the preservation of areas with conditions that can serve as analogues to extraterrestrial environments, areas with conditions similar to those under which life originated on Earth, and in general environments where extreme adaptations can be studied. Astrobiology also presents some direct environmental challenges that need to be considered, namely in the form of forward and back contamination. Both issues need to be approached from a technical perspective, but also from a societal perspective. And both must be understood within a broader context of ensuring the sustainability of practices, both scientific and commercial.

Novels and thought experiments can be pathways to different kinds of knowledge. We may, however, be hard pressed to say exactly what can be learned from novels but not from thought experiments. Headway on this matter can be made by spelling out their respective conditions for epistemic failure. Thought experiments fail in their epistemic role when they neither yield propositional knowledge nor contribute to an argument. They are largely in the business of ‘knowing that’. Novels, on the other hand can be an epistemic success by yielding ‘knowledge how’. They can help us to improve our competences.

The cellphone is at once a transformative, even revolutionary, technology but also an artefact of social fragmentation and managerial/administrative command-control. This chapter explores the contradictory discursive record of utopic and dystopic accounts of the cellphone. The former anchors the cellphone’s historical time to high capitalist consumerism, a purported source of happiness, development, and revolution. Dystopic accounts are more likely to emphasize the record of techno-criticism aimed at the quasi-religious nature of the utopian discourse, highlighting popular and literary protests against the harms to workers and ecosystems. The dystopic perspective points archaeological research to a crucial layer of evidence that moves from a focus on utopian/dystopian forms of consciousness to one centred on the gadget’s chemico-mechanical materiality and the toxic environmental legacy it bequeaths to future generations.

This book aims to contribute significantly to the understanding of issues of value which repeatedly emerge in interdisciplinary discussions on space and society. Although a recurring feature of discussions about space in the humanities, the treatment of value questions has tended to be patchy, of uneven quality and even, on occasion, idiosyncratic rather than drawing upon a close familiarity with state-of-the-art ethical theory. One of the volume's aims is to promote a more robust and theoretically informed approach to the ethical dimension of discussions on space and society. While the contributions are written in a manner which is accessible across disciplines, the book still withstands scrutiny by those whose work is primarily on ethics. At the same time it allows academics across a range of disciplines an insight into current approaches toward how the work of ethics gets done. The issues of value raised could be used to inform debates about regulation, space law and protocols for microbial discovery as well as longer-range policy debates about funding.

Apparently illegal cases of animal rescue can be either open or covert: ‘open rescue’ is associated with organizations such as Animal Liberation Victoria and Animal Liberation New South Wales; ‘covert rescue’ is associated with the Animal Liberation Front. While the former seems to qualify non-controversially as civil disobedience I argue that at least some instances of the latter could also qualify as civil disobedience just so long as various norms of civility are satisfied. The case for such a move is defended against objections that covertness is inherently suspect; a failure to accept responsibility; and inconsistent with civil disobedience as a form of communication. Against such objections, the paper emphasizes the importance of respecting the open texture of the concept of civil disobedience if it is to be of continuing relevance against the backdrop of changing forms of non-violent dissent.

Iris Murdoch's philosophical texts set out the egocentric dangers of guilt but still endorse an account of original sin. This might seem like an unstable combination as these two are in tension, but I argue that Murdoch manages to use this tension in a productive manner. The human condition is treated as one of fallenness, in the sense of an exile from perfection. We are aware of moral failure and also aware of the standard by which we fail. Guilt is reined in, however, by the fact that such failure is a matter of commonplace flawed moral vision and not an Augustinian perversity of the will. This reining in of guilt is still accompanied by a recognition of our unbridgeable remoteness from perfection.

Iris Murdoch's philosophical texts depart significantly from familiar analytic discursive norms. (Such as the norms concerning argument structure and the minimization of rhetoric.) This may lead us to adopt one of two strategies. On the one hand an assimilation strategy that involves translation of Murdoch's claims into the more familiar terms of property-realism (the terminology of ethical naturalism and non-naturalism). On the other hand, there is the option of adopting a crossover strategy and reading Murdoch as (in some sense) a philosopher who belongs more properly to the continental tradition. The following article argues that if familiar Quinean claims about ontological commitment and Murdoch's account of metaphor are both broadly correct then the assimilation strategy must fail to produce a faithful translation. Nonetheless, Murdoch's connection to the analytic tradition is more than genealogical, it is more than a matter of her writing (initially) in response to analytic contemporaries before branching off in a more continental direction. While she departs from familiar analytic discursive norms, she continues to accept most of the epistemic values (such as clarity and simplicity) that the norms embody

In analytic moral philosophy it is standard to use unrealistic puzzles to set up moral dilemmas of a sort that I will call Lockean Puzzles. This paper will try to pinpoint just what is and what is not problematic about their use as a teaching tool or component part of philosophical arguments. I will try to flesh out the claim that what may be lost sight of in such Lockean puzzling is the personal dimension of moral deliberation—for example, moral problems differ from technical problems in the sense that they are non‐transferable, we cannot hand them over to others for solution.