Shelly Kagan

In my forthcoming book, How to Count Animals, More or Less (based on my 2016 Uehiro Lectures in Practical Ethics), I argue for a hierarchical approach to animal ethics according to which animals have moral standing but nonetheless have a lower moral status than people have. This essay is an overview of that book, drawing primarily from selections from its beginning and end, aiming both to give a feel for the overall project and to indicate the general shape of the hierarchical position that I defend there. In this essay, I contrast the hierarchical approach with its most important rival (which holds that people and animals have the very same moral status), sketch the main idea behind one central argument for hierarchy, and briefly review three potentially troubling implications of the hierarchical view. I close with a discussion of a promising possible solution to the most worrisome of the three objections.

Many proposed moral principles are such that it would be difficult or impossible to always correctly identify which act is required by that principle in a given situation. To deal with this problem, theorists typically offer various methods of determining what to do in the face of epistemic limitations, and we are then told that the right thing to do – given these limitations – is to perform the act identified by the given method. But since the method and the underlying principle can diverge, it would seem that in such cases we are being given contradictory advice: some particular act will be both right and not right. Various attempts to resolve this apparent paradox are surveyed, but none are completely satisfactory.

In The Geometry of Desert I used graphs to explore two common ideas about moral desert, namely, that people differ in terms of how deserving they are, and that it is a good thing if people get what they deserve. I argued that desert is a more complex value than we normally recognize, and I laid out a number of alternative possible views, defending some of them. In a pair of critical discussions published in this journal, Victor Tadros and Kasper Lippert-Rasmussen offer a variety of objections to several of the ideas I have put forward. In this essay I welcome their criticisms and respond to some of the main points they raise.

This comment asks us to imagine that we have discovered a principle that completely matches our intuitions about the various actions that might be performed in all the different versions of the trolley problem. Would that constitute a solution to the problem of providing a plausible principle to cover these various cases? Not necessarily, since the principle might turn on distinctions that have no obvious moral significance, and we might be unable to provide the principle with a compelling and plausible rationale. It argues that this might well be the situation we find ourselves in with regard to the book’s proposed solution to the trolley problem: even if the principle does match our intuitions in how it sorts the cases, it is difficult to see why the distinctions on which it turns should matter, and appearances to the contrary notwithstanding, this comment believes the book has not provided the principle with a plausible account or rationale.

This comment asks us to imagine that we have discovered a principle that completely matches our intuitions about the various actions that might be performed in all the different versions of the trolley problem. Would that constitute a solution to the problem of providing a plausible principle to cover these various cases? Not necessarily, since the principle might turn on distinctions that have no obvious moral significance, and we might be unable to provide the principle with a compelling and plausible rationale. It argues that this might well be the situation we find ourselves in with regard to the book’s proposed solution to the trolley problem: even if the principle does match our intuitions in how it sorts the cases, it is difficult to see why the distinctions on which it turns should matter, and appearances to the contrary notwithstanding, this comment believes the book has not provided the principle with a plausible account or rationale.

Chapter 8 takes the assumption that underlies the replaceability argument for granted, if only for the sake of argument. It assumes, with Singer, that outcomes should be evaluated in terms of the quantity of welfare that they contain (i.e. the impersonal view), and that existence as opposed to never existing can benefit an individual. The chapter argues that individuals that have desires for the future can be excluded from the scope of the replaceability argument. There is no need for preference utilitarians to complicate their view in various ways in order to exclude (human or nonhuman) persons from replaceability. The chapter argues that even according to a simple version of preference utilitarianism, persons are not replaceable and should therefore be granted a stronger protection against killing. The chapter shows that it is possible to grant animals a stronger protection against killing within a utilitarian framework.

Peter Singer famously argued in Animal Liberation that almost all of us are speciesists, unjustifiably favoring the interests of humans over the similar interests of other animals. Although I long found that charge compelling, I now find myself having doubts. This article starts by trying to get clear about the nature of speciesism, and then argues that Singer's attempt to show that speciesism is a mere prejudice is unsuccessful. I also argue that most of us are not actually speciesists at all, but rather accept a view I call modal personism. Although I am not confident that modal personism can be adequately defended, it is, at the very least, a philosophical view worthy of further consideration

In Rethinking the Good, Larry Temkin argues that the common belief in the transitivity of better than is incompatible with various other value judgments to which many of us are deeply committed; accordingly, we should take seriously the possibility that the better than relation is not, in fact, a transitive one. However, although Temkin is right, I think, about the mutual incompatibility of the beliefs in question, for the most part his examples don’t leave me inclined to deny transitivity. Nonetheless, there is one example, involving infinity, that does seem to me particularly troubling.

Typically, discussions of well-being focus almost exclusively on the _positive_ aspects of well-being, those elements which directly contribute to a life going well, or better. It is generally assumed, without comment, that there is no need to explicitly discuss _ill-being_ as well—that is, the part of the theory of well-being that specifies the elements which directly contribute to a life going badly, or less well—since (or so it is thought) this raises no special difficulties or problems. But this common assumption is a mistake, since it is far from obvious how to extend even familiar theories of well-being so as to explicitly cover ill-being as well. This paper acts as an introduction to ill-being, noting some of the interesting and overlooked problems ill-being raises for qualitative hedonism, preference theory, and objective list theories. Particular attention is paid, by way of illustration, to the claim that knowledge is an objective good. Assuming this is so, what exactly is the opposite of knowledge, the objective bad which lowers one’s well-being in the same way that knowledge raises it?

Typically, discussions of well-being focus almost exclusively on the positive aspects of well-being, those elements which directly contribute to a life going well, or better. It is generally assumed, without comment, that there is no need to explicitly discuss ill-being as well—that is, the part of the theory of well-being that specifies the elements which directly contribute to a life going badly, or less well—since (or so it is thought) this raises no special difficulties or problems. But this common assumption is a mistake, since it is far from obvious how to extend even familiar theories of well-being so as to explicitly cover ill-being as well. This paper acts as an introduction to ill-being, noting some of the interesting and overlooked problems ill-being raises for qualitative hedonism, preference theory, and objective list theories. Particular attention is paid, by way of illustration, to the claim that knowledge is an objective good. Assuming this is so, what exactly is the opposite of knowledge, the objective bad which lowers one’s well-being in the same way that knowledge raises it?

What would we do in Utopia? Imagine that technology makes it completely unnecessary to do anything as a mere means of achieving something else. What would we still think it worth doing? Thinking about these questions helps us approach the concept of the ideal of human existence. Bernard Suits' Grasshopper argues that what we would do in Utopia is play games, but it seems likely that this is too little to constitute a satisfying ideal. However, with the help of various ideas taken from Bob Adams, this chapter argues that other things will remain worth doing in Utopia as well; for example, enjoying the beautiful, contemplating the basic truths of the universe, being creative, and maintaining meaningful relations with others.

According to the dominant philosophical tradition, intrinsic value must depend solely upon intrinsic properties. By appealing to various examples, however, I argue that we should at least leave open the possibility that in some cases intrinsic value may be based in part on relational properties. Indeed, I argue that we should even be open to the possibility that an object's intrinsic value may sometimes depend on its instrumental value. If this is right, of course, then the traditional contrast between intrinsic value and instrumental value is mistaken

Anyone who reflects on the way we go about arguing for or against moral claims is likely to be struck by the central importance we give to thinking about cases. Intuitive reactions to cases—real or imagined—are carefully noted, and then appealed to as providing reason to accept various claims. When trying on a general moral theory for size, for example, we typically get a feel for its overall plausibility by considering its implications in a range of cases. Similarly, when we try to refine the statement of a principle meant to cover a fairly specific part of morality, we guide ourselves by testing the various possible revisions against a carefully constructed set of cases. And when arguing against a claim, we take ourselves to have shown something significant if we can find an intuitively compelling counterexample, and such counterexamples almost always take the form of a description of one or another case where the implications of the claim in question seem implausible. Even when we find ourselves faced with a case where we have no immediate and clear reaction, or where we have such a reaction, but others don't share it and we need to persuade them, in what is probably the most common way of trying to make progress we consider various analogies and disanalogies; that is to say, we appeal to still other cases, and by seeing what we want to say there, we discover what it is plausible to say in the original case. In these and other ways, then, the appeal to cases plays a central and ubiquitous role in our moral thinking

According to the dominant philosophical tradition, intrinsic value must depend solely upon intrinsic properties. By appealing to various examples, however, I argue that we should at least leave open the possibility that in some cases intrinsic value may be based in part on relational properties. Indeed, I argue that we should even be open to the possibility that an object''s intrinsic value may sometimes depend (in part) on its instrumental value. If this is right, of course, then the traditional contrast between intrinsic value and instrumental value is mistaken.

000000001. Introduction Call a theory of the good—be it moral or prudential—aggregative just in case (1) it recognizes local (or location-relative) goodness, and (2) the goodness of states of affairs is based on some aggregation of local goodness. The locations for local goodness might be points or regions in time, space, or space-time; or they might be people, or states of nature.1 Any method of aggregation is allowed: totaling, averaging, measuring the equality of the distribution, measuring the minimum, etc.. Call a theory of the good finitely additive just in case it is aggregative, and for any finite set of locations it aggregates by adding together the goodness at those locations. Standard versions of total utilitarianism typically invoke finitely additive value theories (with people as locations). A puzzle can arise when finitely additive value theories are applied to cases involving an infinite number of locations (people, times, etc.). Suppose, for example, that temporal locations are the locus of value, and that time is discrete, and has no beginning or end.2 How would a finitely additive theory (e.g., a temporal version of total utilitarianism) judge the following two worlds? Goodness at Locations (e.g. times) w1:..., 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, ..... w2:..., 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, ..... Example 1 At each time w1 contains 2 units of goodness and w2 contains only 1. Intuitively, we claim, if the locations are the same in each world, finitely additive theorists will want to claim that w1 is better than w2. But it's not clear how they could coherently hold this view. For using standard mathematics the sum of each is the same infinity, and so there seems to be no basis for claiming that one is better than the other.3 (Appealing to Cantorian infinities is of no help here, since for any Cantorian infinite N, 2xN=1xN.)

What are the limits of well-being? This question nicely captures one of the central debates concerning the nature of the individual human good. For rival theories differ as to what sort of facts directly constitute a person's being well-off. On some views, well-being is limited to the presence of pleasure and the absence of pain. But other views push the boundaries of well-being beyond this, so that it encompasses a variety of mental states, not merely pleasure alone. Some theories then draw the line here, limiting well-being to the presence of the appropriately broadened set of mental states. But still others extend the limits of well-being even further, so that it is constituted in part by facts that are not themselves mental states at all; on such views, well-being is partly constituted by states of affairs that are “external” to the individual's experiences. In this essay, I want to explore some of this debate by focusing on a particular stretch of the dialectic. That is, I want to think hard about a particular connected series of arguments and counterarguments. These arguments – or, at least, the concerns they seek to express – emerge naturally in the give and take of philosophical discussion. Together they make up a rather simple story, whose plot, in very rough terms, is this: first there is an attempt to push the limits of well-being outward, moving from a narrow to a broader conception; then comes the claim that the resulting notion is too broad, and so we must retreat to a narrower conception after all

Even if the existence of constraints is granted, if only for the sake of argument, the need to defend options still remains. This chapter turns to that defence. It considers three arguments that attempt to establish options – given the existence of constraints – without appealing to the cost to the agent of promoting the good. The first argument holds that unless there are options, agents unavoidably violate constraints when they impose sacrifices upon themselves. The other two arguments hold that the existence of constraints entails the existence of rights, which in turn entails the existence of options. But none of these arguments succeeds.

Defenders of ordinary morality must establish the existence of constraints, including a constraint against harming. This chapter distinguishes between two basic ways that this particular constraint can be characterized – either as a constraint against doing harm, or as a constraint against intending harm – and then focuses on the first. A constraint against doing harm presupposes a distinction between doing harm and allowing harm. But although we can provide some intuitive motivation – in terms of the idea of interfering – for viewing this distinction as morally significant, when we try to carefully articulate this distinction we end up sorting cases in a way that is intuitively unattractive. In any event, attempts to defend the relevance of the distinction are ultimately unsuccessful, as are attempts to show that the distinction would truly support a constraint against doing harm.

This chapter lays out the basic elements of ordinary morality, according to which there is only a limited requirement to promote the overall good. In particular, ‘constraints’ impose restrictions on permissible means of promoting the good, and ‘options’ free us of the obligation to promote the good – even within the limits set by those constraints. We are free to make large sacrifices for others, but typically are not required to do so. This is an intuitively attractive position, but there is more involved in defending a moral view than showing its intuitive appeal. The most natural defence of options appeals to the cost to the agent of promoting the good, but this appeal leads to unacceptable results unless we can first defend constraints as well, and many straightforward attempts to defend constraints are inadequate.

Given the difficulties surrounding the attempt to defend constraints, we need to reconsider the possibility of defending options without assuming the existence of constraints. A view that incorporated options but not constraints would be a departure from ordinary morality, but might be attractive nonetheless. This chapter first explores the structure of such a theory, and then argues that it cannot avoid unacceptable implications unless it presupposes the moral relevance of one of the distinctions discussed in the two previous chapters, such as the distinction between doing and allowing harm. But that distinction remains problematic and inadequately supported, even given the more limited use being made of it here.

This chapter explores certain technical details concerning the characterization of ordinary morality. First, it argues that defenders of ordinary morality believe in the existence of a pro tanto reason to promote the good, a reason that always has weight, even if it can be overridden. Second, it offers an account of what conditions must be met for there to be a moral requirement to perform a given act. Third, it sketches in general terms what the defender of ordinary morality must show if both options and constraints are to be defended. Finally, it argues that this overall approach does not beg any questions against the defender of ordinary morality.

According to the positive argument, the personal point of view is not a mere hindrance to moral action, but a source of genuine and distinct values. There are thus reasons for the agent to act in keeping with the subjective point of view, and if morality is to provide space to do this, it must include options. If successful, this argument might provide a justification not only for options but for constraints as well. But it is far from clear that there are any genuine values that cannot be adequately accommodated within the objective standpoint; and even if there were subjective reasons of this sort, they would simply ground new moral requirements, rather than options.

There are two distinct ways of elaborating the thought that only moral systems with options adequately reflect the nature of the personal point of view. This chapter evaluates the first of these – the negative argument – which holds that a general requirement to promote the overall good will inevitably lack the motivational underpinning necessary for genuine moral requirements; options are thus a concession to the nature of persons. Examination of an analogous argument with regard to the requirements of prudence reveals the potential significance of vivid belief in providing motivation. Reason is then given for thinking that despite the bias in favour of one's own interests, people are, in principle, capable of being moved to promote the overall good.

This chapter begins to examine the defence of options in terms of an appeal to the potential cost to the agent of promoting the good. It suggests, first, that cost here should be understood in terms of the loss involved to the agent's ability to promote his various interests, and it examines how well such an account fits with ordinary views about the range of options. It then asks how, exactly, the appeal to cost is supposed to justify options. The most promising answer takes off from a general account of the nature of the personal point of view, combined with the thought that morality must adequately reflect the nature of people.

The second way to characterize a constraint against harm is as a constraint against intending harm. This presupposes a distinction between harm that is intended as a means or an end, and harm that is merely foreseen as an unintended side effect. We can again provide some intuitive support for this distinction – in terms of either the idea of using someone or the idea of aiming at evil – but here too the distinction ends up sorting cases in ways that are intuitively unattractive. And once again, attempts to defend the relevance of the distinction are ultimately unsuccessful, as are attempts to show that the distinction would support a constraint.

If options cannot be defended, then there is a general requirement to promote the good. Appropriate political and social structures have an important place in seeing to it that this requirement is met, and in somewhat reducing the nature of the sacrifices that may be required in meeting it; but there is no getting around the fact that morality can demand a significant overall sacrifice of one's interests. However, moral agents are free, and we are required to use this freedom to change ourselves so as to better meet the demands of morality.

Most intuitively forceful criticisms of utilitarianism, I believe, reduce to two basic objections. Both arise from the relentlessness of the utilitarian injunction to promote the overall good. On the one hand, this means that agents are permitted to perform an act of any kind whatsoever–provided only that the consequences of that act are better than those of any alternative. In particular, this means that it is permissible to impose tremendous sacrifices or injuries upon someone, if this is the only way to ensure even greater gains for others. But in allowing agents to deliberately impose harm on someone for the sake of others, utilitarianism seems to permit acts which are morally unacceptable. Intuitively, we want to say that rights, or other moral prohibitions, forbid treating people in certain ways–ways allowed by utilitarianism. This, then, is the first major objection: utilitarianism permits too much.