Peter Singer – “Famine, Affluence, and Morality”

Peter Singer – “Famine, Affluence, and Morality”
Please read the article “Famine, Affluence, and Morality,” by Peter Singer and complete the following tasks:

1. Explain Singer’s goal in this article, and then present his argument in relation to this issue.
2. Explain three counter-arguments to Singer’s position that he addresses in his article, and then indicate Singer’s responses to those counter-arguments.
3. Define Singer’s concept of marginal utilityand identify how it relates to his argument.
4. Compare how the ideas of duty and charity change in Singer’s proposed world?
5. Finally, present your personal response to Singer (this should be no more than one page of the entire assignment). Provide an argument either in support of Singer’s position, against his position, or somewhere in the middle of his position. Remember that when you present your own positions you need to support those positions with as much logical reasoning and factual evidence as possible. 

The paper must be at least three pages in length, formatted according to APA style, and include a title and a reference page (which does not count towards the page length). Support your point with examples from the text and at least two sources, See ATTACHMENT for Ch. 2 & 3 of my textbook. Here is the Reference for my textbook: Mosser, K. (2010). A concise introduction to philosophy. San Diego, CA: Bridgepoint Education, Inc.

Eric Nathan/Britain on View/Photolibrary

2

Traditional Theories of Ethics

• Philosophers have developed theories to provide support
for our claims about right and wrong.

• Other theories, such as egoism and relativism, offer
alternatives to traditional theories of ethics.

• Ethics has many specific applications to our lives, from
the very personal and specific to those that affect
everyone in society.

What We Will Discover

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CHAPTER 2Section

2.1 How Should One Act?

2.1 How Should One Act?

Ethics, or moral philosophy, investigates how we can evaluate our behavior in terms of right and wrong, good and bad—in short, how we determine what we should do, what we should not do, and how to tell the difference. After looking at the three
classical ethical views philosophers have presented, and some of the problems with each
of those theories, we will look at some alternative approaches to those traditional views.

Utilitarianism

You and five of your friends are hanging out one night and decide to order a pizza. You
are all equally hungry, and decide to order two pizzas, each of which has six slices. Thus,
when the pizzas are delivered, it is pretty easy to determine how to divide the pizzas in
a way that is the fairest: Everyone gets two slices of pizza. Someone may have wanted a
third slice, of course, and is not entirely satisfied; someone may have not wanted a second

slice, and may think the solution is not the most
efficient. But without knowing anything else,
we see that the greatest number of people here
will be made the best off if we decide that every-
one gets two slices of pizza, instead of any other
arrangement.

This simple example is the basic notion at the
heart of the ethical doctrine of utilitarianism.
Often associated with the philosophers Jeremy
Bentham (1748–1822) and John Stuart Mill (1806–
1873), utilitarianism, at least at first, offers a very
straightforward and direct way to evaluate behav-
ior. If given a choice between two acts, and one
of them creates greater happiness for the greatest
number of people, then that is the act that should
be chosen. Philosophers, and economists, often
use the term utility to express this idea (which
is, of course, why this view is called utilitarian-
ism). One’s utility is the satisfaction one gets from
something: For instance, you may like chocolate
ice cream more than vanilla ice cream, so we can
say that chocolate ice cream has a higher utility

for you, relative to vanilla ice cream. In theory, at least, a person can rank all of his or her
choices, and thus has a scale of things that show which things he or she prefers, relative
to others. Some philosophers, such as Bentham, even attempted to put numbers on these
preferences: So, for instance, if one likes chocolate ice cream five times as much as vanilla
ice cream, that person would, presumably, be willing to accept five vanilla ice cream cones
as a substitute for one chocolate ice cream cone.

Because utilitarianism considers the consequences of an act in figuring out whether it
is a moral thing to do, utilitarianism is also regarded as a consequentialist theory. The
basic idea, again, is to look at the choices one confronts: If the consequences of one act

Photos.com/

Thinkstock

English philosopher Jeremy Bentham
is among those credited with the devel-
opment of utilitarianism.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.1 How Should One Act?

produces the greatest good—or the highest util-
ity—for the greatest number of people, that is
the act one should carry out. Many people find
this to be rather obvious as an ethical viewpoint;
clearly if we had decided to give all the slices
of pizza to just three people and no pizza to the
other three, this would seem to be a rather unfair
solution! It should also be clear that utilitarianism
offers an approach to things other than pizza and
ice cream. Imagine Mary really loves to go danc-
ing, and she doesn’t get to go dancing very often.
Mary has three children, with whom she enjoys
spending time and who enjoy spending time with
her. One night she is given the option of staying
home and spending time with her children or
going dancing; what should she do? The utilitar-
ian might well argue that the pleasure Mary gets
from dancing is greater in this case than staying
with her children, but that if one also factors in
the pleasure her children will receive if she does
not go dancing, then the “utility calculation” becomes clear. The total happiness of Mary
and her three children will be higher if she stays home, although Mary’s individual happi-
ness might be a bit lower. This calculation then suggests that what Mary should do, given
these two choices, is to stay home; that way, she is fairly happy, and her children are fairly
happy, and this consequence produces the greatest good for the greatest number.

Often utility is described, as we have seen, in terms of pleasure, which may lead to what
seems to be a problem for utilitarianism. Imagine someone finds pleasure in playing video
games and drinking beer all day long. Given a choice between, say, helping out in a home-
less shelter or drinking and playing the newest video game, a person may well choose to
drink and play the video game, which suggests to some that utilitarianism has no way of
distinguishing different kinds of pleasures. Pre-
sumably, we want our theory to be able to make
this distinction (or we are unable to say that some
pleasures aren’t as “good” as others). John Stuart
Mill saw this as a potential problem and insisted
that pleasure should be considered not just in
terms of quantity but also quality: that certain
kinds of pleasures, or certain ways of satisfying
desires, are simply better than others. A pig may
be happy rolling around in the mud and eating
garbage, but Mill insisted that people who take
that approach fail to develop the potential human
beings have (relative to pigs, at least!). Famously,
he said it was better to be a dissatisfied Socrates
than a satisfied pig. This does not, by the way,
lead to the result that one should always choose
something less pleasurable; it is, rather, simply an
indication that pleasures themselves can, or per-
haps should, be distinguished from each other. It

Radius Images/Photolibrary

One potential problem with utilitari-
anism is that it doesn’t differentiate
between different types of pleasures.
You might prefer staying at home,
watching TV, and eating pizza all day
over picking up trash at the community
park or beach.

iStockphoto/Thinkstock

Utilitarianism seeks the outcome that
will benefit the greatest number of
people. For instance, sharing the ball
would mean two children are happy
instead of just one.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.1 How Should One Act?

is not always easy to say that one pleasure is “superior” to another—and even more dif-
ficult to say why—and certainly people have argued about this issue forever. But these
kinds of examples do indicate one of the problems utilitarianism confronts if we evaluate
acts solely in terms of their pleasurable consequences (Mill, 1909).

Many people find utilitarianism a very easy and very useful approach to making ethical
decisions. We can usually distribute goods, services, or even our time in a number of dif-
ferent ways; often it seems to be a “no-brainer” that the best approach is to choose in such
a way as to satisfy as many people as possible, by making them as happy as possible, com-
pared to any other available choice. But, as we will see, there are a number of problems
philosophers have raised about utilitarianism, which may make it a less plausible ethical
theory than it looks like at first.

Problems with Utilitarianism

Utilitarianism, as noted, has what philosophers call an “intuitive appeal”: It seems to be
relatively obvious, and just plain common sense, to evaluate our actions on the basis of
the results those actions produce. Clearly enough, if four kids in a sandbox have one toy,
and we don’t know anything else about the situation, the best thing to do is to share that
toy, even if each individual child is quite sure he or she would get the most pleasure play-

ing with it alone. That seems to make sense, and
it may even be difficult, at first glance, to see why
not everyone accepts this utilitarian approach to
ethical decisions.

But many philosophers have objected to utili-
tarianism, for a number of reasons. As we have
already seen, distinguishing different kinds of
pleasures from each other can be difficult. If a
person gets pleasure from staring at the wall, or
for that matter doing something that most people
find quite unpleasurable (something often called
“masochism”), does utilitarianism have any way
of addressing this? Mill suggests that there are
“higher” or “more refined” pleasures, and that
they should be preferred, but who is to say which
is a “higher” pleasure? Is reading poetry some-

how “better” than watching soap operas (Mill, 1863)? What if someone gains pleasure by
sleeping all the time, or hitting his thumb over and over with a hammer? More significant
objections to utilitarianism have been offered on the basis of calculating the outcome, or
consequences, of a choice.

Let’s say that you are on a cruise ship, which catches fire; you and 19 others are lucky
enough to survive on a lifeboat. There is enough water to last for a week or more, but
you have no food, no chance of obtaining any food, and no idea when (or if) you will be
rescued. Everyone is aware of how grim the future looks, and as the boat drifts, everyone
is getting hungrier and hungrier. It starts to become clear that everyone is going to die,
unless they get food. The utilitarian seems to suggest that we have a choice here: All 20

Jupiterimages/Thinkstock

Let’s say you really like to play drums,
but your family or roommates prefer
silence. How would utilitarianism
address this issue?

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.1 How Should One Act?

people die, or 19 people live if one person is killed and eaten! The resort to cannibalism
is, of course, extreme, but there are, in fact, historical examples of very similar cases. This
example does make clear that simply determining one’s course of action on the basis of
what results in the greatest good for the greatest number could be a problem. Do we want
an ethical theory that not only allows this as a result, but actually endorses it as the fairest
and most ethical decision one can make?

Few of us—we hope!—will be in a situation this extreme, but we may find ourselves in
situations where the simple, basic utilitarian calculation leads to results that seem very
unfair and very unjust. This is a threat anytime one finds oneself in a minority, whether
on the basis of sex, race, ethnicity, religion, sexual orientation, or any of the other ways
society categorizes people. For example: A local grade school has to choose whether or
not to build ramps in order to make the building
accessible to those who are in wheelchairs. In any
given year, only a few people would need these
ramps, but the entire school district will be taxed
to pay for their construction. This tax, naturally,
will decrease the pleasure of each taxpayer, and
let’s assume that this result will far outweigh
the pleasure of those using the ramps and the
increased pleasure for those who are happier that
the building would be handicapped-accessible. A
simple utilitarian calculus would indicate that the
ramp should not be built. Is this a fair result?

Tyranny of the Majority
More generally, as can be seen from these exam-
ples, is the threat political philosophers have
called the “tyranny of the majority.” Although this
objection is very old, and can be found in Plato,
it was of particular concern to John Stuart Mill,
who recognized this as a problem with a simple
utilitarian calculation based on the principle of
the greatest good for the greatest number. In the
history of the United States, many have pointed
to this as a problem for those belonging to minor-
ity groups, such as African Americans, Jews, and
homosexuals, among many others. To take a sim-
ple example from this history: In the original colo-
nies, such as Maryland, Roman Catholics were not allowed to vote or hold public office.
Because Catholics were, at that time, a small minority, this would seem to fit the utilitarian
calculation but, at the same time, seem to be obviously unfair and unjust. This kind of cal-
culation has been used to justify a wide range of policies that seem wrong, from slavery to
refusing to sell houses in neighborhoods to ethnic and racial minorities. Women, who are
actually the majority of the population, have also suffered for similar reasons on the basis
of this kind of calculation.

Andersen Ross/Blend Images RF/Photolibrary

One risk with utilitarianism is tyranny
of the majority, in which minority
groups end up being marginalized for
the greater good.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.1 How Should One Act?

Mill’s Response
John Stuart Mill and other utilitarians recognized the flaws in an ethical system that had
such unethical and oppressive results. One popular way of addressing these flaws has
been to distinguish between act utilitarianism and rule utilitarianism. Act utilitarianism
simply evaluates an individual act: Given a set of choices, does this individual act gener-
ate the greatest good for the greatest number? Rule utilitarianism is more sophisticated:
Rule utilitarianism looks at kinds of acts and proposes that one should follow in a way
that, as a rule, that act produces the greatest good, or the greatest amount of happiness,
for the greatest number.

An example should make this clear. Bob is taking an important test in his physics class
that he needs to pass to get into medical school. He considers cheating; if he cheats suc-
cessfully, he gains a great deal and thus achieves his greatest happiness, or “maximizes
his utility” (we will ignore any feelings of guilt Bob may have!). The act utilitarian seems
to suggest that, in this case, cheating produces the greatest amount of good. The rule utili-
tarian gives a different analysis. In this specific case, Bob may gain the most by cheating,
but in general, one couldn’t promote the rule that one should cheat, for then one would
not promote the greatest good for the greatest number. If we endorse a rule, “It is okay to
cheat to get into medical school,” then the rest of society would be considerably less con-
fident that their physicians were trustworthy and deserved their credentials. This would,

then, not generate the greatest good for the great-
est number, and the rule utilitarian would there-
fore tell Bob not to cheat.

Rule utilitarianism seems to have a better chance
of dealing with some of the more obvious objec-
tions we have seen, although it is not entirely clear
whether it can successfully treat the problem of a
minority being treated oppressively by a major-
ity. Mill seemed to advocate a system of “propor-
tionate representation,” so minorities would be at
least represented, but it isn’t clear how this solves
the problem (Mill, 1909). Other objections also
have been raised against utilitarianism, both act
and rule utilitarianism. For instance, when mea-
suring pleasure, or utility, what time frame should
be used: days, years, decades? Who is included
in the idea of the “greatest number”—our fam-
ily, our community, our country, our planet? How
can one compare one person’s amount of pleasure
with another person’s? Can we really even mea-
sure pleasure, or happiness, or utility in a way that
allows us to make these utilitarian calculations?

These are difficult questions to answer, and
many philosophers (and others) have seen this
as a reason to look elsewhere for a moral theory,
a theory that does not evaluate acts in terms of
consequences and does not measure such things

Radius Images

Act utilitarianism might suggest that
cheating on a test would maximize the
test-taker’s utility, but rule utilitarian-
ism would hesitate to promote cheat-
ing, which would minimize the utility
of a broader group.

mos66103_02_ch02_031-094.indd 36 11/30/10 4:53 PM

CHAPTER 2Section 2.1 How Should One Act?

as happiness and utility. To turn to the most famous alternative to utilitarianism, we can
now look at a non-consequentialist theory, deontology.

Deontology

Deontological ethics—“deontology” comes from the Greek word for “obligation” (or
“duty”)—is usually associated with the philosopher Immanuel Kant. In contrast to conse-
quentialist theories, Kant, and more generally the deontologist, ignores the consequences
of an act in evaluating whether it is a good act, a bad act, or a morally neutral act. It is
important to remember that deontologists do not deny that acts have consequences; their
point is that those consequences should not play a role in evaluating the morality of the
act. Rather, deontological ethics focuses on the will of the person carrying out the act in
question, his or her intention in carrying it out,
and, particularly, the rule according to which the
act is carried out. Deontology, then, focuses on
the duties and obligations one has in carrying out
those actions (rather than on the consequences of
those actions).

Kant claimed that certain kinds of rules estab-
lished what he called a categorical imperative
(Kant, 1997). This is a requirement, or demand
(which is why it is an imperative), and it has no
exceptions (which is why he calls it “categori-
cal”). We might contrast this kind of imperative
with what Kant calls a “hypothetical impera-
tive.” For instance, if you are hungry, you decide
to eat something: In that case, the action (eating)
is designed to achieve a goal (making you less
hungry). But there is no obligation or demand
that you eat; it is just what you do in this specific
situation. The categorical imperative, on the other
hand, has no exceptions, is something one must
do, and never depends on the details of the situ-
ation. Kant assumes, as do most moral philoso-
phers, that being a moral person is something that
is good to do; we don’t, that is, really regard it as a
goal one might or might not adopt.

Kant gives three different versions of the categorical imperative. We can look at the first
two, which will give us a rough idea of what kind of rule it is.

1. Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it
should become a universal law. That is, if you choose to do something, would
you desire that everyone in that same circumstance do exactly the same thing?

2. Act in such a way that you treat humanity, whether in your own person or in
the person of any other, always at the same time as an end and never merely
as a means to an end. In other words, all people—including yourself—deserve

Tetra Images/Photolibrary

Deontologists focus on duties, obliga-
tions, and rules that dictate ethical
behavior.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.1 How Should One Act?

respect, and to treat people as objects, or as a way of achieving some goal, that
doesn’t show that respect, would always be wrong (Kant, 1997 and 1998).

These rules can seem pretty abstract, but a very famous and very old rule—the Golden
Rule—captures much of what deontology is all about. The Golden Rule is quite ancient,
and can be found in many different civilizations beginning with the ancient Egyptians and

the ancient Greeks, as well as in many religions,
including Buddhism, Christianity, Judaism, and
Islam. What is probably the best-known version
comes from the Christian Bible: “Do unto others
as you would have them do unto you.” In other
words, if you don’t like being stolen from, you
shouldn’t steal from others; if you don’t like being
a victim of violence, don’t act violently toward
others. You don’t want to be treated by others
as simply some kind of “thing,” so you yourself
shouldn’t treat others that way. This last claim is,
more or less, what Kant provides as the second
version of the categorical imperative we just saw.

As we saw earlier, a simple utilitarian calculation
has an “intuitive” appeal in that it seems fairly
obvious, and perhaps commonsensical, to eval-
uate an act in terms of whether it produces the
greatest good for the greatest number. An indi-
cation that deontological ethics—as represented
here by the Golden Rule—has its own intuitive
appeal is borne out by the number of parents who
use it with their children, including very young
children. A mother sees her daughter playing with
several other children and not sharing the one toy
they have; she takes her daughter to the side and
asks, “How would you like it if no one shared her
toys with you?” The daughter, of course, would
not like it, and—the mother hopes—the little girl
sees that if she doesn’t like to be treated in a cer-
tain way, then she shouldn’t treat others in that

way. This question—“How would you like it if others treated you that way?”—is probably
something all of us have heard before and gives a pretty good indication of how common
the Golden Rule is, and thus how familiar we are with this version of deontological ethics.

This brings up another point, which is that it is not uncommon to see utilitarianism and
deontology come to the same conclusion, but from different directions. We have seen the
example of a group of children having one toy among them; the utilitarian argues that
the greatest good for the greatest number is achieved by sharing the toy; the deontologist
argues that one should treat others with the same respect we expect to be given, and that
is achieved by sharing the toy. They both conclude that the children should share, but one
draws this conclusion by looking at the results while the other draws the same conclusion
by looking at the rule—in this case the Golden Rule—we should follow. At the same time,

Lee Frost/Robert Harding Travel/Photolibrary

The Parable of the Good Samaritan,
found in the Christian Bible, is an
illustration of the Golden Rule. In the
parable, a Samaritan stops to help a
Jewish man who is lying on the side of
the road after being robbed.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.1 How Should One Act?

other actions may generate conflicts between the
two rules. For instance, a deontologist may adopt
as the universal rule “Never steal.” But imagine a
family has no food; the deontologist may be forced
to conclude that it would be wrong for the father
to steal food to feed his family. The utilitarian, in
contrast, calculates: The unhappiness of the person
from whom the food was stolen is not as great as
the happiness achieved by the family getting food.
Thus, the utilitarian may well argue that in this
case stealing is not wrong because it produces the
greatest good for the greatest number, while the
deontologist is forced to conclude that it is wrong.

Both utilitarianism and deontology, as we have
seen, have certain advantages: Utilitarian calcula-
tions are, at least at first glance, fairly easy to devise
and provide a quick way to evaluate the moral
worth of an act. Deontology has the appeal of being
easily explained and develops rules that seem to
make sense and are also easily applied. We have
already seen that utilitarianism confronts certain
problems that show that it may lead to results that
appear unfair and unjust; we can now look at some
similar kinds of problems that face the deontologist.

Problems with Deontology

Traditionally, those critical of deontology have
focused on two specific, but related, issues. First,
deontology—particularly the Kantian version—
seems too dry and sterile and fails to capture some
of the real-life issues that arise when we confront
ethical problems. Second, which may be a result
of the first, is that deontology may require one
to act in a way that seems obviously wrong and
obviously unethically. As we saw with utilitarian-
ism, any ethical theory that leads to potentially
unethical results may have a problem!

We’ve seen the best-known versions of Kant’s cat-
egorical imperative: Roughly, you should treat oth-
ers only as if they are a way of achieving your goals,
and you should only do something if, in that same
situation, everyone should do that same thing.
Clearly these are normative demands, or moral
claims, as can be seen by the repeated use of the
word “should.”

Digital Vision/Thinkstock

Some applications of deontology are
more obvious: Just because someone
cuts you off in traffic doesn’t mean you
should get out of your car and punch
him in the face.

Randy Faris/Flirt Collection/Photolibrary

The Golden Rule could be used to
teach children good sportsmanship.
After all, how would you feel if you
lost and the winner rubbed it in your
face? Or, how would you feel if you
won, and the loser threw a tantrum?

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.1 How Should One Act?

Some kinds of cases are fairly obvious. Just because you are late for the movies, you
shouldn’t use your car to run over someone who is in your way. Of course, no one in a simi-
lar situation should run a person over with his or her car in order to get to the movies on
time. The Golden Rule would lead to the same result; after all, you wouldn’t want to be run
over by someone rushing to get to the movies, so you shouldn’t run someone over to do so.

But are there situations where these kinds of rules seem to give results that may seem
wrong, or even immoral? The most famous objection to the deontologist’s approach—spe-
cifically Kant’s—is to consider lying.

Lying is, of course, intentionally misleading some-
one to think something is true when it is false, or
false when it is true. Children are taught at an
early age never to lie, and most moral systems
prohibit lying. Often, the Ninth Commandment
given in the book of Exodus, “Thou shalt not bear
false witness against thy neighbour” (Ex. 20:16), is
interpreted as saying that lying is always wrong.
This seems to be a clear example of the categori-
cal imperative: To lie to another person is to treat
that person with insufficient respect as a human
being, and since we presumably don’t want to be
lied to, we should not lie to others.

Yet, as we all know, people lie to each other quite
a lot, and often to achieve goals that seem to be
appropriate and moral (or at least not immoral).
Here are three examples that raise questions
about when, if ever, lying is permitted.

1. A husband buys a new shirt that he likes very much and asks his wife if it
makes him look fat. The shirt, in fact, does so; should the wife tell her husband
the truth? One might avoid lying by not answering, but as may be familiar, not
answering may itself provide a sufficient answer.

2. Dan and his friends are throwing an elaborate surprise party for Jody. Jody gets
suspicious and asks Dan,”Are you throwing a surprise party for me?” If Dan tells
the truth, the surprise party is ruined, and all their efforts will have been a pretty
big waste of time. Should Dan lie to Jody?

3. Parents in the United States often tell their children stories, not just about a jolly
fat man who brings them presents at Christmastime, but also about a rabbit that
brings candy at Easter, and even a fairy who “buys” the teeth they have lost
by exchanging money for a tooth left under the pillow at night. Should parents
always tell their children the truth about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the
tooth fairy?

We started with what seemed to be a good rule, and one most parents teach their children:
“Never lie.” But in the preceding three cases, do the wife, Dan, and the parents do some-
thing we think is fundamentally immoral? The wife doesn’t want to make her husband
feel bad; Dan wants to make sure Jody enjoys her surprise, and it is probably abundantly

Corbis/Photolibrary

Deontology runs into problems when
there are shades of gray. You should
not lie, but what if you had to lie to
protect someone or what if the truth
would hurt someone?

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.1 How Should One Act?

clear why parents tell their children stories about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the
tooth fairy. Kant’s stern rule, “Never lie,” seems to lead to results that, quite possibly, force
everyone involved to do something they would prefer not to do. Perhaps the husband,
Jody, and children would prefer to be lied to? One might tinker with Kant’s rule, or sug-
gest that one shouldn’t ask questions unless one expects to be told the truth. One might
also say that children are special cases, and haven’t reached the age where we are always
honest with them. But that makes for a rule that is quite a bit more complicated! Rather
than “Never lie” it becomes something like “Never lie to those over a certain age, and
hope no one asks you questions they really would prefer not be answered truthfully.”
Even this may not solve all of our problems; we can probably all think of examples where
lying seems to be, somehow, the right thing to do. But formulating a rule that allows for
those examples can be difficult.

We have seen the advantages of utilitarianism and deontology, as well as some of the
problems each theory confronts. One other classical, or traditional, theory remains; it does
not look at the consequences of our acts (utilitarianism, or consequentialism) nor the acts
themselves and the rules that guide those acts (deontology, or non-consequentialism);
rather, it looks at the character of the person doing those acts. This is a theory known as
virtue ethics.

Virtue Ethics

“Virtue ethics” is a term philosophers use to
refer to a particular approach to moral and ethi-
cal questions that focuses on the character of the
person. Some discussions of the idea can be found
in Plato, as well as in such Chinese philosophers
as Confucius; however, the classic conception of
virtue ethics in Western philosophy is attributed
to Aristotle. The virtuous person, or the person
of virtuous character, is, for Aristotle, that person
who has the appropriate virtues and has them in
a way that is balanced and harmonious. Thus,
a person who is virtuous will have many of the
characteristics we admire, while keeping them
in balance. This person won’t have too little or
too much of any one virtue, and they will all be
appropriately related to each other.

Some of these are traditional characteristics that
we still use to describe a good or moral or vir-
tuous person. Aristotle’s list includes courage,
generosity, and friendliness. For Aristotle, all
such virtues have their excesses in two differ-
ent directions: One may, for instance, have too
little courage, which we would call cowardice.
Another person may have too much courage and
also act badly by being too rash. A soldier who

Tom Salyer/Photolibrary

Virtue ethics is all about balance, find-
ing a Golden Mean between having
too little and having too much of a
virtue.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.1 How Should One Act?

runs from the field of battle when first confronting the enemy might not have enough
courage, whereas the soldier who runs straight into machine-gun fire may have too
much. Aristotle insists that the virtuous person will have the right amount of courage,
not too little, not too much, and will aim at what he calls the Golden Mean between
having too little and having too much of any of the virtues. So one may be moderately
generous, and thus virtuous, whereas one who has too little generosity may be regarded
as a cheapskate or stingy, and one who has too much generosity might be regarded as
being a spendthrift or wasteful.

Aristotle also describes two virtues that are a bit more complex. One of these he calls
temperance (Aristotle, 2002). Temperance is the traditional translation of the Greek word
Aristotle uses, sophrosunë; the temperate person is one who is moderate and has self-con-
trol. This person is able to control his or her emotions through reason, and thus never
seeks the extreme with such things as pleasure. One may like to drink wine; the intem-

perate person drinks too much of it, whereas the
person who rejects it entirely, in spite of finding it
enjoyable, is called insensible. Temperance, then,
is a middle ground between the two excesses of
insensibility and intemperance.

Aristotle also describes a virtue he calls mag-
nanimity (Aristotle, 2002) which is, more or
less, how we see ourselves and see how we are
regarded by others. This can involve the respect
others give us, but also the kinds of rewards and
honors we can be given. People who think too
highly of themselves, or have an excess of this
virtue, we consider vain, as do people who think

they deserve more recognition than they actually do. Those who believe they don’t
deserve even the recognition and appreciation that they do, have too little magnanim-
ity, a characteristic Aristotle calls “low-minded.” We might call such a person too self-
effacing or falsely modest. The truly magnanimous person, as always with Aristotle,
has this virtue in its proper proportion, and thus is considered appropriately modest
while appropriately proud of his or her accomplishments.

Consider, for example, Nick and Ted. Nick likes to go to parties, but drinks too much,
and acts as if he is everyone’s best friend. Once when Nick was at a party, a fight broke
out, and Nick tried to stop it by fighting with all of those who were involved in the origi-
nal fight. Clearly, Nick does not have his desires held in check by reason, does not live
in accordance with the Golden Mean, and has the various virtues out of whack and in
excess. In contrast, Ted never goes to parties; he stays home alone and never has any fun.
Once, when he saw someone steal an elderly woman’s purse, he ran in the opposite direc-
tion. Clearly, Ted also does not have his desires held in check by reason, does not live in
accordance with the Golden Mean, and has the various virtues out of whack and in excess
(an excess of not having enough of the various virtues!). Neither Nick nor Ted, therefore,
qualifies as having a virtuous character.

Imagesource/Photolibrary

Someone with an excess of magnanim-
ity would be considered vain.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.1 How Should One Act?

Jennifer, on the other hand, possesses all the
various virtues that Aristotle describes: She is
a good friend; she is courageous; she is modest
but takes pride in what she does and accepts the
legitimate praise of others; and she is generous,
honest, and moderate. She has what the Greeks
called eudaimonia. Eudaimonia can be trans-
lated in a variety of ways, as happiness, flourish-
ing, well-being; for Aristotle, eudaimonia really
is what Jennifer has: the virtues in their proper
balance and proportion, neither in an excessive
amount but not too little of any them, either. She
has reached the Golden Mean of these virtues,
and thus has eudaimonia.

It is easy to get lost in the Greek, and all of Aristotle’s technical vocabulary, but his basic
point should be clear: The person who makes the right moral choices, or behaves ethi-
cally, is a virtuous person and is the kind of person we admire for that reason. We object
to those who are deficient in one or more of the virtues, but we also object to those who
display one or more of these virtues excessively. The person who has eudaimonia is the
person who had acquired the correct conception of the virtues, individually and as a
whole, and, as such, will offer us an example of what kinds of moral choices should be
made. We may not actually know of such a person, and, indeed, there may not actually
be such a person. But if we have such a conception of a virtuous person in hand, we may
be able to look at our own choices, and our own behavior, and see where we are doing
the right thing and, of course, where we may need improvement.

As is often the case with ethical theories, they sound pretty good at first: clear, obvious,
and easy to apply. But just as we saw challenges confronting both utilitarianism and
deontology, we can now turn to some of the problems that arise for proponents of virtue
ethics.

Problems with Virtue Ethics

Virtue ethics is, as we have seen, a bit different than the other two classic theories of ethics,
utilitarianism and deontology. With virtue ethics we look at individuals and examine not
what they do but what kind of people they are. Is she a good friend? Is she appropriately
modest, yet also appropriately courageous when such courage is needed? Does she avoid
extremes, tell the truth, and thereby give us an example of the good life, lived virtuously?
If so, the virtue ethicist points to such a person as an ideal, or example, to follow, and one
who achieves eudaimonia, a degree of physical and mental health to which we should
all aspire. Even if only few people, if any, actually achieve eudaimonia, we at least have a
conception of it that offers us a goal for which we can strive and a model that we can point
to for others to appreciate.

Photoalto/Photolibrary

Aristotle’s point is clear: We should
either try to imitate someone who is
virtuous or at least examine ourselves
for the proper virtuous balance.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.1 How Should One Act?

This all sounds great, but when one starts look-
ing at the details of the individual virtues, the
Golden Mean, eudaimonia, and applying all of
these notions in real-world examples, it becomes
considerably more difficult.

The complaint, to begin with, is probably pretty
obvious. Let’s take as an example one of Aris-
totle’s specific virtues, courage. There may be
clear-cut examples of courage in its extremes,
when one has an excess of courage or a lack of
sufficient courage. Molly is at the zoo one day
when a lion escapes from its cage; she decides
to try to capture the lion, single-handedly. We
might consider this courageous, but courageous
to such an extent that it is foolhardy. On the other
hand, Frank is sitting at his kitchen table and
sees a mouse: He runs screaming from the room,
never to return. We might regard Frank as having
a deficiency of courage. Finally, Victoria discov-
ers she has a terminal disease: Although fright-
ened, she deals with it, gets her affairs in order,
makes sure her family is taken care of, and thus
confronts her situation in way that is admirable.
Victoria is courageous without being foolhardy
or cowardly.

Molly, Frank, and Victoria give us examples of
courage: We see how one might have it in excess
(Molly), in deficiency (Frank), and in its appro-

priate, moderate amount (Victoria). But this doesn’t seem to give us enough in the way
of understanding how, in general, one determines the appropriate response. Imagine
Steve is a prisoner of war, kept in very brutal conditions with a number of his fellow
soldiers. He knows he has a fairly good chance of escaping, but he also knows that the
guards have made it clear that if he is caught he will be tortured and then executed, and
if someone does successfully escape, another prisoner will be chosen at random and be
tortured and then executed. To escape under these conditions requires a certain degree
of courage, but not to escape—staying when he could get away—under these conditions
also requires a certain degree of courage. What does Steve do to be courageous in the
appropriate way here? It is not clear that there is a Golden Mean here to which Steve can
appeal, and it is therefore not clear which, if either, of the possible actions available—to
escape or not to escape—is the virtuous thing to do. In this specific case, then, it seems
that virtue ethics offers insufficient guidance about what one should do. Similar prob-
lems confront the other virtues, as well. Is there an “appropriate amount” of lying one
should do in order to be virtuous? Should one be willing to break some promises, while
keeping others? Even if we think there may be solutions to various individual ethical
dilemmas, virtue ethics seems to fail in offering the kind of general solution that utili-
tarianism and deontology do.

Richard Heinzen/Superstock/Photolibrary

One issue with virtue ethics is that it
doesn’t give us much direction in terms
of how to make our ethical decisions.
All we can really determine is whether
someone is virtuous and how much of
a certain virtue that person possesses—
and even that might be up for debate.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.1 How Should One Act?

There are still more difficult problems involved.
For the most part, we can avoid them, but it
might be worth at least pointing them out. Aris-
totle and many virtue ethicists seem to think
that certain terms are well-understood, and
that everyone shares the same general concep-
tion of the virtues. But do we? For instance, we
may think we all agree on what it means to be
a friend. But imagine Carl, who thinks of him-
self as a very good friend to the couple next
door, Charles and Diana. Carl discovers that
Charles has been having an affair with Diana’s
best friend. Presumably, friends tell each other
the truth, but friends also don’t want to see their
friends hurt, their marriages break up, and so on.
Is it all that clear what Carl should do in this case?
More important, might people disagree on what
Carl should do in order to be a good friend? If so,
then, the idea that we all share the same general
conception of “friendship” might not be so easy
to defend. If this is the case, then the problems
multiply, for each virtue will confront this kind
of problem, and the problems just seem to get
worse when we try to determine what exactly
is the “appropriate amount” of all of them and
how they should be in balance with each other.

One other traditional problem that also seems to pose a problem for virtue ethics is that
a certain act may be seen in one culture as a virtue, while in another culture that very
same act may be seen as a vice. Presumably, the same act cannot be both virtuous and
unvirtuous, so do we have to specify the cultural context for any act we want to evalu-
ate in terms of its moral worth? Consider two communities, A and Z: A is a culture of
warriors, which insists that its members be fierce and respond to threats with violence.
Z is a culture of pacifists that insists its members always “turn the other cheek” and
respond to threats with non-violence and negotiation. How do A and Z react, when a
group of outsiders sets up camp outside their land, a group that appears to have a great
number of weapons and may well pose a threat? Virtue ethics doesn’t seem to provide
a wholly adequate way of solving the question of whether A’s violent response or Z’s
non-violent response is appropriate. A will regard Z’s pacifism as immoral, just as Z will
regard A’s violence as immoral. The point isn’t so much to determine whether A or Z (or
neither) is doing the virtuous thing. Rather, the point is that virtue ethics doesn’t seem
to offer enough guidance in trying to make this determination, or it ends up saying both
responses, for the given culture, are virtuous. But if all our moral evaluations have to be
made relative to a given culture, then it is pretty clear that we won’t be able to develop a
virtue ethics that can address actions that we might indicate are wrong across cultures.
In other words, if evaluations are relativized in this way, then does virtue ethics do any-
thing other than say that some things are right, and some things are wrong, but no one
can really object that someone from another culture is doing something wrong? There

Imagesource/Photolibrary

One issue with virtue ethics is that
what is ethical in one culture might be
considered unethical in another.

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CHAPTER 2Section

2.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

are those who support that view—which we will define shortly as ethical relativism—
but virtue ethics seems to be designed to say something considerably stronger than
what ethical relativism does, in terms of saying what is right and wrong.

Concept Review 2.1 Theories and Theorists

Ethical Theory Key Figure Basic Idea

Utilitarianism J.S. Mill An act (or rule) is good or right if it produces the greatest good
for the greatest number.

Deontology Immanuel Kant An act is good or right if it is done because it is the right thing
to do, in accordance with a justified moral rule or rules.

Virtue ethics Aristotle Morality is determined on the basis of specific virtues, exempli-
fied by a person of noble or virtuous character.

2.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

We’ve now looked at the three classic theories of ethics: utilitarianism, deontology, and virtue ethics. We saw that each has both advantages and disadvantages, and that none offers an obvious and easily applied solution to the question
“what should I do?” In this section, we will look at alternatives that have been developed
in contrast to these three classic theories.

Ethical Egoism

“Ego” comes from the Greek word for “I.” We probably know someone about whom it is said
“he has a big ego”: that is, a person who has an exaggerated sense of just how great he is. Ego-
ism, then, is the idea that the focus is on one’s self. Hence, ethical egoism is the idea that one’s

conception of right and wrong, good and evil, and
other moral terms, is to be determined by one’s own
sense of value. To return to utility, a notion we saw
earlier, we could describe this as the position that
one should do what maximizes one’s own utility. In
short, I should do what is in my self-interest. This is
a theory that is, in the most literal sense, “selfish.”
But unlike other, more traditional moral theories,
selfishness is not seen as wrong, or immoral, but
how one should in fact act—out of self-interest.

To return to the example we’ve used before: A
group of children are playing in a sandbox, and
have access to only one toy. Cherita, the ethical
egoist—who we will just call the egoist from now
on—determines that what makes her happiest, or
maximizes her utility, is to have the toy to herself.
Thus, it is in Cherita’s self-interest to get the toy,

Pedro Coll/age footstock/Photolibrary

An ethical egoist acts in his own
interest.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

keep the toy, and play with the toy all by herself.
This isn’t, however, the only result possible. It may
be that she decides that she would get more out of
it if everyone shared, or, for that matter, if only one
other person got to play with the toy. If she con-
cludes that some other option is in her self-interest,
then she should adopt that choice. So we can see
that the crucial thing in this case isn’t that Cherita
gets the toy to herself; it is that what she perceives
as making her best off will be what she should do.

We also had an example earlier that will provide
a contrast to the ethical egoist and the utilitarian.
We saw Mary trying to decide whether to go danc-
ing or stay home with her three children. Factoring
in the happiness of Mary and the three children,
the utilitarian argued that everyone would be best
off—producing the greatest good for the greatest
number—if Mary stayed home. The egoist might
conclude otherwise: If Mary sees her greatest hap-
piness achieved by going out dancing, then she
should go out dancing. Again, Mary may conclude
that it would make her happiest to stay home. The
egoist’s position is that what Mary should do is
whatever Mary sees as in her self-interest.

We saw that the classic theories of ethics—utilitarianism, deontology, and virtue ethics—
all had problems when we tried to apply them to real life, but egoism seems not to have
that problem. For any person S, he or she determines what is in his or her self-interest.
That’s it: S does what he or she thinks will make S best off, and, according to this theory,
that is what S should do.

Let Joe be a billionaire investment banker. He has several houses, cars, and servants, and
having retired, he can take vacations whenever and wherever he wants. One day Joe sees
an old friend, Mike, from high school who has become homeless. Mike asks Joe for ten
dollars. Ten dollars, for Joe, is almost nothing in terms of his wealth, but Joe considers
whether he would be better off giving the money to Mike or keeping it himself. Joe decides
he would be happier keeping his money; egoism tells us that is what he should do. Tradi-
tional ethical theories, and religious views, may regard Joe as being selfish, greedy, and,
more generally, acting immorally. Egoism does not; traditional conceptions of selfishness
are not regarded by egoism as immoral. It may turn out, of course, that Joe decides that it
is in his self-interest to give Mike the ten dollars; it might make him feel better to help out
an old friend, and, after all, it’s not much of a sacrifice for Joe. But egoism leaves that deci-
sion up to Joe, and what Joe perceives to be in his own self-interest is what Joe should do.

Many economists have argued that this is, in fact, how economic exchanges work in free
markets. Buyers want to get as much as they can as cheaply as they can; sellers want to sell
as much as they can for the highest price they can get. Individuals, then, want to maximize
their utility by getting as much as they can out of the exchange. According to the traditional

Digital Vision/Thinkstock

In some ways, decision making is
easy for an ethical egoist. They will do
whatever they want to do, whether or
not others think it is wise.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

views, this sounds not just selfish, but greedy. But
we assume everyone has, more or less, the same
amount of information about the product involved,
and we also assume that everyone knows that
everyone else is trying to maximize his or her self-
interest. In this way, then, the market will, in theory,
be most efficient and create more goods and more
wealth for everyone if everyone acts in a way that
maximizes his or her self-interest. One way of put-
ting the point was given by Bernard Mandeville;
recognizing that greed was traditionally regarded
as sin, he claimed that great benefits would be pro-
duced if everyone were greedy. As he put it, “pri-
vate vices, public benefits”: That is, the private vice
of selfishness would actually end up making soci-
ety wealthier than it would have been otherwise,
which is a public benefit.

Problems with Ethical Egoism

As we have already seen, ethicists and religious
leaders (and many others) protest against ethi-
cal egoism because it seems to say that selfish-
ness is a good thing. The objection is fairly obvi-
ous: Being selfish is wrong, either because it is
immoral or a sin or both. So an ethical theory
that not only doesn’t condemn selfishness, but
seems to promote it, must be wrong. Tradition-
ally, parents teach their children to not be selfish
but to cooperate and share. Similarly, being self-
ish seems to be a short step from being greedy,
and most ethical and religious traditions object to
greed and consider greedy people to be immoral.
But if it is in one’s self interest to get as much as
possible, then doesn’t egoism recommend that
greed is good? We saw Joe the billionaire decide

to keep his ten dollars instead of giving it to an old acquaintance, down on his luck. That
seems to be both selfish and greedy, but, as we saw, egoism doesn’t label Joe’s action
as immoral; indeed, it says keeping it should be what Joe should do, if it maximizes his
own self-interest.

What Is Our Self-Interest?
This objection is probably pretty familiar. However, another question may be a bit less
obvious, but it might trouble the ethical egoist nonetheless: How do we determine our
self-interest? Ethical egoism seems to take for granted that any individual can identify
what is in his or her self-interest, but that may not always be the case. If I’m trying to
choose to do something, do I evaluate my self-interest in terms of the short term, the long

Ron Chapple Stock/Photolibrary

The obvious objection to ethical ego-
ism is that it can promote selfishness.

Imagesource/Photolibrary

Economists have argued that ethical
egoism is present in capital markets:
All parties usually seek the best way to
benefit themselves.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

term, or something in between? Maybe I think it is in my self-interest (in the short term) to
eat an entire blueberry pie, even though my long-term interest is to lose weight. Perhaps
we could adopt the principle that my long-term interest should always override my short-
term interest. But can I really be sure what that long-term interest is, and that it won’t
change? Even if the question of what I know about my self-interest can be answered, a
bigger problem may then arise. Can I ever be wrong about my self-interest? If whatever
I do is defined as having been done in my self-interest, then how could I ever do some-
thing that is not in my self-interest? Ethical egoism is the idea that whatever one chooses
to do is in that person’s self-interest—maximizes his or her utility—and therefore is the
right choice. But if that is the case, then it is difficult to see what role “should” plays here,
because it isn’t very clear how one could ever not act in one’s own self-interest. If egoism
says, “One should do whatever one does,” such a theory doesn’t seem to offer much in
the way of guidance, does it?

Emma’s Self-Interest
We can use a single example to see how these objections might emerge. Emma decides
that it is in her self-interest to become, over time, very wealthy. Although she likes—very
much—to shop for nice things, play video games, and go out to expensive dinners with
her friends, she resists doing so, and becomes
very frugal. She only buys the cheapest things
and has to actively resist her friends when they
ask her to go shopping, to play video games, or to
go out to a local French restaurant. All the money
she saves she puts into the stock market and other
investments, and, slowly, she starts to generate a
substantial amount of money. She starts to see her
friends less and less often and becomes somewhat
of a hermit. After several years, she realizes that
she is very lonely, doesn’t have much fun, and is
generally unpleasant to be around. Even though
she has met her goal of becoming wealthy, she rec-
ognizes that she sacrificed too much to reach that
goal and decides to give all of her money away
to charity and focus on doing volunteer work in
order to help others.

It is pretty unclear that the ethical egoist has
much to say here, beyond saying that whatever
Emma chose to do to maximize her self-interest
is what she should have done. Deciding to adopt
the idea that her long-term goals should over-
ride her short-term goals, Emma gave up many
of the things that gave her pleasure. That maxi-
mized her utility, presumably, so that is what she
should have done. But if she had decided other-
wise—that shopping, playing video games, and eating at expensive French restaurants
maximized her utility—then that is what she should have done. In other words, she gets
no real guidance from egoism in deciding which of the two paths she should choose,

Colin Anderson/Blend Images RF/Thinkstock

One issue with ethical egoism is that
the individual almost has too many
choices with little ethical guidance,
because arguably whatever choice one
makes is the right one.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

short-term pleasure or long-term wealth. Worse yet, she had even less guidance because
her long-term goals changed, so she gave up not just her short-term pleasures but also
her original long-term goal when she changed her mind and adopted another long-term
goal. Whatever Emma determines is in her self-interest is what she should do, but she
clearly wasn’t able to determine what that long-term self-interest really was! A theory that
can recommend little else but “You should do what you should do” doesn’t seem to offer
much in the way of ethical insight.

It doesn’t seem to do much better with the ethical issue that challenged the classical theo-
ries of ethics. Utilitarianism, deontology, and virtue ethics all had things to say about
when, or if, one should lie, but their results didn’t seem entirely satisfactory and occasion-
ally led to results that seemed strange, or simply wrong. Egoism doesn’t even seem to
offer that much, however. If Carolyn asks Bob to go to the movies, and Bob doesn’t want
to go, should he lie and say he’s busy? Should he tell the truth and say he doesn’t want
to go? The advice ethical egoism seems to offer is to tell Bob that he should do whatever
he thinks will maximize his utility, or he should do what is in his self-interest. But even
if Bob knows what that self-interest is, egoism tells him that whatever he chooses will be
correct, regardless of what he chooses. If he lies out of self-interest, fine; if he tells the truth
out of self-interest, that’s also fine. It seems safe to say that Bob will either lie or not lie,
so whatever he chooses to do is what he should do. That doesn’t seem to be very helpful
ethical advice to Bob, does it?

Relativism

We’ve seen a number of theories by now, and we’ve also seen that each has its problems—
sometimes serious problems! One popular response to this is to abandon the search for
an ethical theory, at least one that tells us, and everyone, what should be done and how
we should live. Rather, we should recognize that there are no universal or general ethical
standards, that one’s ethical view is relative to one’s culture, society, tradition, religion,
worldview, or even one’s own individual values. Because moral claims are said to be
relative to something else, this is a view known as relativism. Even though philosophers,
as well as anthropologists and others, distinguish different kinds of relativism, we will
generally use the term to mean that any ethical claim is relative to a set of beliefs, and that
any such ethical claim is one true, or consistent with, that set of beliefs. Even though this
may sound complicated, it is a view that is very common. To take a simple example that
probably doesn’t involve a moral question: Assume that you like comedies and your best
friend likes action films. There might not be much of a problem here in rejecting the idea
that comedies are better than action films or in rejecting the idea that action films are better
than comedies; each claim is relative to one’s beliefs, desires, and preferences. It may make
things more difficult when you and your friend pick a movie to go see together; however,
neither of you is determined to convince the other that there is some true, or objective, or
factual claim being ignored here, about the merits of comedies and action films.

Moral Relativism
Moral relativism extends this idea to the area of ethics. Ethical evaluations, that is, say-
ing some act is right or wrong, are made in terms of the context of that act and, therefore,
are relative to the culture and values of those doing it. Some cultures bury their dead;

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

some cremate their dead; some allow them to be
exposed to the elements and scavengers; some
mummify their dead (at least their important
dead, such as Egyptian pharaohs); some cultures
have even been reported to eat their dead. Which
is right? Are any of these wrong? Some religions
require the cremation of the dead, whereas some
religions prohibit it. What is the relativist response
to these issues?

The relativist simply says that the practice that
a given culture adopts as the correct one deter-
mines what should be done. Let culture A be a
society that cremates, or ritually burns, its dead,
while culture B is a society that prohibits crema-
tion. The relativist says A’s tradition is correct for
A, and not for B; in the same way, B’s tradition is
correct for B, and not for A. Just as important for the view we are calling moral relativ-
ism is that those who live in culture A can’t say that cremating is right and not cremating
is wrong; they can only say it is right for them. In the same way, those in culture B can’t
say that cremating is wrong and not cremating is right; they can only say it is wrong from
them. The view, then, of cremation is relative to the given culture, and there is no objective
ethical standard to appeal to in saying whether cremating one’s dead is right or wrong.

Many people find this position very attractive. It seems to eliminate the need, or desire,
to provide objective evaluations for all people, and all societies. It seems to allow that we
can simply “agree to disagree”; if some culture or society or religion does something that
would be viewed as very immoral in our own society, we are free to say that it is wrong
for our society but not for theirs.

Moral relativism is often characterized in terms of
cultures, and cultural anthropologists have iden-
tified many practices in the world that contrast,
and even conflict, with some of the practices that
are standard in the West. Any number of rituals
and ceremonies—of birth, of achieving the status
of an adult, of marriage, of death—have been dis-
covered and reflect a very wide range of beliefs.

We saw that Aristotle recommended generosity,
within its appropriate limits, as one of the chief
virtues a good person would have. Imagine a
society that regards a person as good, or virtuous,
who has the greatest wealth; in this society, people
might well be regarded as “good,” or virtuous, by
obtaining as much as they can and keeping it all
to themselves. In contrast, consider a society that
regards those people as good, or virtuous, who
give all of their wealth away (an extreme version
of that practice of some Native Americans known

Hermera/Thinkstock

A relativist doesn’t need to pass judg-
ment. She says, “If it works for you, it
works for me!”

Steve Rayner/Asia Images RM/Photolibrary

A funeral procession in Vietnam. Rela-
tivism recognizes that certain things
that are “right” in some cultures might
be “wrong” in others—for instance,
how a culture treats its dead.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

as “potlatch”). This society may regard a person as “good,” or virtuous, who has the least
wealth, having given all of it away. Aristotle regarded a moderate amount of generosity
as a virtue for all people in all societies. Here we see that the moral relativist might regard
a deficiency of generosity (keeping everything for oneself) as a virtue, relative to a soci-
ety’s values; an excess of generosity (giving everything away) can also be seen as virtue,
relative to a society’s values. The moral relativist concludes that the claim “generosity is a
virtue” can only be evaluated in terms of the values of the specific society.

What does the moral relativist say about the example we have looked at in terms of the
other moral theories, namely, lying? Is it wrong to lie? Is it okay to lie? Is it sometimes
wrong to lie and sometimes right to lie? As always, the moral relativist says “it depends.”
If your society rewards lying, or at least doesn’t punish it, then lying might well be okay
in your society. If your society, on the other hand, has strict penalties (whether legal and
official, or the kind enforced informally by others in your community) against lying, then
lying will be wrong in your society. “Lying is right” or “lying is wrong” are the kinds of
claims avoided by the moral relativist, who advocates saying something like “lying is
right relative to a society that permits or encourages lying” and “lying is wrong relative to
a society that prohibits lying.”

Extreme Relativism
So far we have been discussing relativism in terms of societies and cultures, or differ-
ent groups of people who seem to have different, and possibly conflicting, values. But it

is worth pointing out that there is an even more
extreme, or radical, kind of relativism, often
associated with the ancient Greek philosopher
Protagoras (ca. 490 bce–420 bce). This kind of
relativism is said to hold for individuals: If a
person says something it true or false, right or
wrong, then it is true or false, right or wrong,
for that person. We saw an example of this when
you and your friend were discussing your pref-
erences for movies; for you it was true that com-
edies were best, for your friend, it was true that
action films were best. Protagorean, or extreme
relativism, extends this idea to all claims, includ-
ing ethical claims. Presumably, this means if you
think shoplifting is wrong, but another person
says shoplifting is not wrong, there is no “fact”
we can point to in order to determine who is cor-
rect; shoplifting is wrong for you, but not wrong
(or even right) for the other person. That is about
all there is to say about such disagreements.

This kind of relativism, as noted, is often seen
as a very attractive option in ethics, allowing us
to avoid making difficult judgments and being
critical of other people and other cultures particu-
larly cultures with which we aren’t very familiar.

Bananastock/Thinkstock

Extreme relativism takes relativism a
step further: If someone says stealing
a car is the right thing to do, then it is
right for that person.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

It also has the advantage of recognizing just how difficult ethics can be; as we have seen, it
seems that every ethical theory confronts serious problems that it has difficulties solving.
Moral relativism allows us to avoid some of these problems by relativizing our responses,
and thus rejecting the need for objective moral evaluations. But, as you may have sus-
pected, moral relativism itself confronts some serious difficulties to which we can now
turn.

Problems with Relativism

As we saw with the shoplifting example, some things just seem to be wrong; not wrong
relative to a culture, but simply wrong. One might imagine a society where shoplifting
wasn’t viewed as a particularly bad thing, but there are other cases that seem more dif-
ficult to defend. This might be called a prima facie objection, from the Latin legal term
for “at first view”; when we first look at such
examples, we may immediately think something
wrong is being done. An ancient Hindu practice,
called suttee, requires a woman whose husband
has recently died to throw herself on his funeral
pyre, thus killing herself. This could have been
done voluntarily, or she could have been forced
to do so. The practice has been outlawed but occa-
sionally still occurs. Some societies continue to
practice slavery, owning a human being as if he
or she is simply a piece of property. Some soci-
eties have child pornography widely available.
Some societies practice infanticide, killing (or
allowing to be killed) an infant after birth if it is
determined not to have the desired characteristics
(frequently, that is, if it isn’t a boy). Some societies
have executed prisoners—often on flimsy or inad-
equate charges, and with little legal protection—
in order to take their organs and sell them on the
black market. Of course, in just the 20th century
we have many such examples: Joseph Stalin caus-
ing the death of millions, Mao Zedong causing the
deaths of millions, Adolf Hitler causing the deaths
of millions. Unfortunately—except for the relativ-
ist, perhaps—this list could go on and on.

The relativist seems to have to be able to say
here that such things are only wrong, relative to
a specific culture or worldview. Perhaps we are
from a culture that views infanticide or slavery
as wrong; we would then say, for us, that these
things are wrong. But from the perspective of a culture that doesn’t share our views, per-
haps infanticide, or slavery, or both, are not wrong, or even are right. The extreme cases,
of course, make people uncomfortable, which is, more or less, the point: Do we want
to say that a government’s policies that result in family members eating each other are

Philippe Hays/Photolibrary

One problem with relativism is that
human rights activists like South
Africa’s Nelson Mandela might be
considered wrong, relative to their own
culture, while certain unethical actions
would be right simply because the cul-
ture accepts it.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

only wrong relative to a given value system, or that such polices are simply, fundamen-
tally, and obviously wrong? To be consistent, the relativist has to say that no matter how
wrong something seems to be to a person, that idea of “wrong” is relative to that person’s
values. If another person has different values, then such things might not be wrong. You
can decide for yourself if this result makes you as uncomfortable as it makes some ethical
theorists.

Reformer’s Dilemma
A second, more sophisticated objection has been provided by the philosopher Fred Feld-
man, and is known as the “Reformer’s Dilemma” (Feldman, 1978, p. 166). Imagine Sarah
lives in a society that values boys but does not value girls. To keep the society going, some
number of girls are needed, but parents are allowed to kill a third child if they already
have a girl and that third child is a girl. Furthermore, if a couple has three children, girls
or boys, they are required to kill a fourth child, a fifth child, and so on, if it is a girl. Sarah
thinks this is wrong; perhaps she just feels it is wrong, or perhaps she has substantial
arguments for her position. But moral relativism says that her society determines what

is wrong or right, and it has determined that this
policy of killing girls is right. So Sarah must be
wrong to object to this policy. But, more gener-
ally, anyone who objects to any policy a society
has adopted must be wrong. Dr. King would be
wrong to object to oppressive and racist American
practices in the 1960s; Nelson Mandela would be
wrong to object to the oppressive and racist South
African system of Apartheid. In fact, anyone who
wanted his or her society to improve could not
be correct in objecting to a society’s values. This
seems to be a problem; many of history’s most
admired people have been critical of their socie-
ties. But what may be worse is that this seems to
suggest that if one is always wrong in criticizing
the values of one’s society, the society cannot be
improved, and thus must be perfect. As Feldman
observes, this seems to pose a challenge to the
thoroughgoing relativist.

Remembering What We Agree On
Perhaps the most sophisticated response to relativism can be found in some of the work
of the American philosopher Donald Davidson, although the central idea of this response
could also be found in the work of Ludwig Wittgenstein (Davidson, 1974). Simply put,
the idea is that radical relativism is incoherent, or simply doesn’t make sense, for a cou-
ple of reasons. First, let’s assume that the relativist is right, and that a person’s beliefs
are relative to her society’s. But within any society, a person can “belong” to many
different kinds of groups, based on ethnicity, class or income level, language, sex or

Brand X Pictures/Photolibrary

All of these commuters might be
members of the same culture, but they
might be members of different groups
based on gender, race, religion, occu-
pation, and so on. The trouble with
relativism is determining which group
determines ethical choices.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

gender, race, religion, sexual orientation, and on
and on. Imagine Henry has lived in France much
of his adult life, but was born in Egypt, speaks
Arabic as his native language, and is a Muslim.
Which group determines his values? What if one
group Henry belongs to decides some kind of
activity is right—say women not being allowed
to work outside the home—and another group
decides that is it wrong for women to so work?
How does Henry figure out which it is? To
take the idea to the extreme, does a poor white
50-year-old Lutheran heterosexual woman from
Texas have moral values that are more similar
to an 18-year-old wealthy Chinese lesbian or to
a bisexual middle-class 50-year-old white Meth-
odist male from Pennsylvania? It seems that for the relativist, if our “culture” deter-
mines our values, and people have different factors that make up that culture, there
could be a problem!

Second, Davidson importantly reminds us that when we discuss such things as ethical
viewpoints, politics, religion, and other controversial topics, we almost always focus on
what we disagree about. But that disagreement can go forward only if we agree on an
enormous number of things. Consider two people arguing about gun control. Jim thinks
no one should be able to own a handgun; John thinks everyone should be required to own
a handgun. They sit down to talk about this disagreement, which seems to be substantial.
But imagine they started by listing the things they agree on, that makes their disagreement
possible: Guns don’t speak Japanese, guns don’t make good hats, guns aren’t an appro-
priate filling for sandwiches, guns can’t fly, and on and on and on. But this hardly means
our disagreements simply disappear. Rather, we focus on the disagreement, because that
is what usually interests us. The point is that the issues Jim and John agree on are vastly
greater than those they disagree about. If they disagreed on things to the extent that the
radical relativist seems to think possible, it is difficult to see how they could even sit down
and talk to one another about anything. As Davidson puts it, our disagreements—even
if that disagreement involves two people from dramatically different cultures—can only
occur within the context of massive agreement, or on the assumption of an enormous
background of things people agree on. Otherwise, they wouldn’t even be able to hold a
conversation about that on which they disagree. That would be the case for a relativist
talking to another relativist! Don’t they also have to share a number of things in common
to debate their versions of relativism?

As should be clear from these objections, whether it is our discomfort at being told that
genocide is only wrong relative to a culture’s values, or whether it is the idea that relativ-
ism doesn’t actually make any sense, when looked at closely, it may ultimately be difficult
to defend a radical kind of relativism. Our hope that relativism would provide an easy
way out of the various ethical problems we have seen may, therefore, have been a little
optimistic. Although it remains, for many, an attractive option to simply say a person or a
culture determines what is right and what is wrong, when examined critically, it may not
deliver all that we had hoped it would!

Eyecandy Images

Often, when we disagree with some-
one, we focus on our differences more
than we focus on our similarities.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

Nietzsche’s Challenge

Relativism seems to many to proceed from recog-
nizing that ethical problems are hard to solve to
the idea that ethical problems cannot be solved.
As Davidson indicates, this may be the conse-
quence of our focus on what divides us, and he
reminds us to realize that to disagree requires a
great deal of agreement. Others have challenged
even more fundamentally the values of society as
a whole, including traditional political and reli-
gious structures. Perhaps the most powerful such
challenge came from the German philosopher
Friedrich Nietzsche.

Nietzsche (1844–1900) was a philosopher who
exerted an influence on 20th-century philosophy
that is difficult to overestimate. Nietzsche’s own
life was remarkably interesting. His father, uncle,
and grandfathers were all Lutheran pastors, but
Nietzsche’s father died when he was four, and his
brother died a few months later. Nietzsche was
raised by his mother and sister, sent to an extremely
prestigious boarding school in Germany, and given

a position—at the age of 24—to teach classical philology (the study of classical Greek and
Latin texts) at the University of Basel, in Switzerland. Nietzsche taught there for 10 years,
but his job was interrupted by military service, during which he received a serious injury.
His health, in general, was not good, and he had to resign his teaching post, spending much
of the rest of his life wandering around Italy, France, Switzerland, and Germany. In 1889,
Nietzsche had a mental breakdown and collapsed in Turin, Italy, and he spent the remaining
years of his life unable to communicate, not realizing that the many books he had produced
had begun to make him a world-famous philosopher.

Übermensch
Nietzsche presented, and still presents, a radi-
cal challenge to traditional ethical viewpoints.
Although his position is difficult to summa-
rize quickly, fundamentally he called for a “re-
evaluation of all values”; that is, all the various
things that traditional morality and religion had
said were good, or wrong, needed to be scruti-
nized and criticized. In doing so, Nietzsche deter-
mined that much of this traditional morality was
fundamentally wrong. He declared that “God is
dead” (and that human beings had killed Him)
and defended atheism. Nietzsche thought that
Judaism, and because of it Christianity, had taken
the ancient ideas of the Greeks and Romans, and

Jupiterimages/Thinkstock

Nietzsche suggested that those in
power determined what was moral—
and by controlling the masses, they
also held back those who could be
truly great.

The Print Collector/Imagestate RM/Photolibrary

German philosopher Friedrich
Nietzsche offers a radical challenge to
traditional ethical viewpoints.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

perverted them. Before Christianity, the “good” was identified as the strong, the power-
ful, the courageous, the noble, and the creative; the “bad” was that which was weak, the
timid, the small-minded, and the cowardly. Nietzsche argued that Christianity had turned
this upside down, and that people had been convinced—by those he called the priests,
who control the moral, cultural, political, and religious values of a society—that what
had been good was now evil, and what had been bad was now good. Hence, he saw the
morality of his day as preventing those who were noble, creative, and bold from being
recognized as superior to the masses. He also argued that this meant the masses—timid
and weak—could be easily controlled, like sheep by their shepherd, by those in power.
He thus saw both Christianity and democracy (a democracy of a mass of people who
were kept ignorant and thus did what they were told) as guilty of holding back the very
few exceptional individuals who could achieve greatness in society. Such an individual
was called by Nietzsche an “Übermensch,” which is usually translated as “superman” or
“overman” (Nietzsche, 1973). This overman creates his own values, and his own moral-
ity, as an expression of his power to overcome those values those around him have tried
to force him to accept. In this way, the overman becomes a free and independent spirit,
risking everything and unwilling to accept the conventions of his society. Ultimately,
Nietzsche suggests a view he calls “eternal recurrence” as the goal of the truly noble soul:
One should seek a life that, if one were to have to live exactly that way for eternity, one
would be happy to do so.

Critiques of Nietzsche
Those who resisted Nietzsche’s ideas—and there were, and are, very many such peo-
ple—did so for a number of reasons. They saw important truths expressed in moral and
religious traditions and important values in the principles of those traditions, and they
certainly didn’t think “God is dead.” Most Nietzsche scholars reject the idea that he was
the kind of relativist we have discussed; however, it is easy to see why some might regard
him that way, for if one creates one’s own values, then aren’t that person’s values relative
to that person? People also objected to the idea that Nietzsche’s views were elitist, indicat-
ing that just a few “great souls” were allowed full access to freedom and independence,
whereas the great masses of those who didn’t so qualify—in Nietzsche’s view—were left
with little but mediocre lives, following rules they didn’t understand and, more or less,
simply doing what they were told to do.

But it is important to see that, in the history of ethics, Nietzsche presents a serious chal-
lenge to a number of different traditions in both morality and religion. He requires us to
examine what our moral values are and to see what is done in the name of those moral val-
ues. Has Christianity been used to promise people that their true reward will come after
their death, thus making it easier to control them while they are here on earth? Have West-
ern societies often punished those who are unwilling to go along with the values of their
society? Interestingly enough, at times Nietzsche identified Jesus as one of those whom
society punished for being brave and independent enough to raise profound objections
to the values imposed upon him by society, but Nietzsche also remarked that the “last
true Christian died on the cross” (Nietzsche, 1968, § 39). Have societies that officially or
unofficially regarded themselves as Christian acted in ways that violate the very Christian
principles they are said to embrace? These, and many other questions Nietzsche raises, are
important reminders that often people say one thing, and do another. Nietzsche’s willing-
ness to expose this hypocrisy has continued to confront Western philosophy, specifically

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

its development of moral theories. He has, therefore, required philosophers, and all those
interested in moral questions, to consider very carefully whether what we do actually con-
forms with what we believe. As the saying goes, we may “talk the talk,” but do we “walk
the walk”? Demanding we make this critical, and uncomfortable, self- examination is, of
course, the kind of thing that makes those demanding it very unpopular: Many think this
was precisely the reason Socrates was executed. At the same time, most of us recognize
that it is to our benefit to see if what we believe, why we believe it, and whether the way
we treat others reflects—or in fact conflicts with—those beliefs.

Tolerance and Diversity

Even though Nietzsche confronts us with a scathing critique of society and its hypocrisy,
we may not accept that critique. Given increasing global interdependence and the diver-
sity of societies, philosophers have worried about how we determine what an appropri-
ate amount of tolerance is. The United States is a diverse country, with people from a
vast number of backgrounds, representing a large number of ethnic groups, religious

traditions, and countries of origin. A lot of people
living the United States, of course, can point to
a long line of ancestors having lived there, even
before it was the “United States.” But many oth-
ers have arrived quite recently, from all over
the globe. Some 80 percent of Americans speak
English, but, according to the 2000 Census, more
than 300 other languages are spoken (or signed)
in the United States (although some of these are
spoken by a very small number of people). Some
estimate that there are more than 200 different
religious denominations that can be found in
the United States. The planet, of course, is con-
siderably more diverse, with thousands of ethnic
groups, thousands of different languages spoken,
and thousands of different religious traditions
and denominations. As an example: India has as

its official state language Hindi (and a secondary “official” language of English), but it is
estimated that just within India, some 350 different languages are spoken by a substantial
number of people. As you can see, the earth is a pretty diverse place!

Assuming differences in culture, religion, ethnicity, and other value systems might gener-
ate a good bit of disagreement, this degree of diversity gives us a pretty good idea of just
how much disagreement there can be between different groups of people. It might be a
nice thought that ethicists—or anyone else, for that matter—could come up with a recipe
for preventing, or at least minimizing, these disagreements, and thereby minimizing the
military invasions, the terrorism, and the various other kinds of violence caused by these
disagreements. That may seem a bit optimistic, but it is worth thinking about what the
study of ethics might offer to get a little closer to this goal.

iStockphoto/Thinkstock

We are a diverse community—both
in the United States and around the
world.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

Extreme Tolerance and Intolerance
We can start by identifying two extreme positions, one we can call extreme tolerance, and
one we can call extreme intolerance. The extremely tolerant person will accept all cultures,
all perspectives, all views, and all ethical values expressed by any society, anywhere, and
at any time. In short, extreme tolerance tolerates everything. It’s hard to be more toler-
ant than that! Extreme intolerance, on the other hand, tolerates nothing but its own view.
Thus, an extremely intolerant culture Z rejects all other cultures, from A through Y; one
and only one, very specific, position is acceptable to Z, and Z regards all other cultures as
simply wrong. The extremely tolerant society never considers another view to be wrong,
and therefore in need of being challenged or criticized; thus, it would never need to
engage another culture or society militarily. The extremely intolerant society may always
be at war, for it never sees any culture with distinct views as being anything other than
incorrect.

These are, as mentioned, extreme views; it is likely that few, if any, cultures qualify as
either extremely tolerant or extremely intolerant in the sense described. Most—probably
all—societies, that is, fall between these two extremes. This gives us, then, a sense of the
limits involved in describing the various ways one might endorse, or advocate, tolerance.
For even though many agree that “tolerance” is generally a good thing, we can see that too
much tolerance could be as bad as too much intolerance. Imagine you are sitting quietly
at home, watching a baseball game with a friend. Someone comes in, shoots your friend,
and takes everything you own. If you are extremely tolerant in the sense described earlier,
you have no objections. More generally, extreme
tolerance may lead to what one might call the
paradox of tolerance, for the extremely tolerant
person can’t object to the extremely intolerant
person, and ends up tolerating the most vicious,
dogmatic, and violent kind of intolerant behavior.
Even if tolerance is a virtue, we might see that this
is a bit out of whack: as Aristotle might put it, too
much tolerance might be a bad thing!

But as we look around, we probably see that the
threat to most of us comes from the direction of
intolerance. A government may ban citizens from
speaking freely or prevent one group from prac-
ticing its religion. Two countries may go to war
over a piece of land neither really wants; each just
doesn’t want the other to have it. A group of terrorists may seek to kill innocent civilians
of a different religion, or even those who have a different interpretation of the terrorists’
own religion. A town may practice a kind of informal discrimination against those the
majority views as “different,” whether due to a different race, religion, sexual orientation,
or another of the many things we use to label each other. A person may decide that abor-
tion is such an immoral practice that he or she is justified in murdering a physician who
performs abortions. Do philosophers, specifically ethicists, have much to offer to call into
question the things done on behalf of such intolerance?

Mauritius Images/Photolibrary

Extreme tolerance does pose some
problems, but most threats come from
intolerance.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.2 Alternatives to Traditional Theories of Ethics

Reflective Equilibrium
In his extremely influential book A Theory of Justice, the philosopher John Rawls (1921–
2002) puts forth a strategy he calls reflective equilibrium. Although his full theory is, as
you might expect, complex and difficult, Rawls’s fundamental ideas are helpful in making
clear what we think is fair; Rawls believes any plausible conception of justice must be one
that is regarded by all participating in a society’s decisions as fair, and thus he is famous
for characterizing justice as fairness (Rawls, 1971).

Rawls describes a thought experiment—that is, an imaginary situation, not an actual histori-
cal event—where people come together to design a society. The society they design will be the
one in which they will, at some point, live. Rawls puts a crucial condition on those describing
this future society: They are behind what he calls a “veil of ignorance.” That is, they don’t
know in the future society what kind of person they will be: whether male or female, nor do
they know their race, religion (if any), class, ethnicity, sexual orientation, physical handicaps,
and so on. Thus, what the participants will determine to be fair will express what each thinks
would be fair under such a condition. For instance, you might not describe a society that prac-
tices discrimination on the basis of sex, for you might discover, in that future society, that you

were a member of the sex discriminated against.
To give a specific example: It is unlikely that you
would regard the principles of, for instance, South
Carolina in 1820 as fair, for you might be describing
a society in which you would be a slave or a Jew or
a woman, all of whom would be in situations few
of us would regard as fair or just.

Part of Rawls’s discussion requires the notion of
reflective equilibrium, where individuals with vari-
ous moral and political views discuss the moral and
political views of others, in order to see what kind of
agreement can be reached. To make the abstract idea
a bit more concrete: John and Mary, who come from
very different backgrounds, sit down to compare
their notions of what a just and fair society would

look like. Each is willing to consider the other’s viewpoint and recognize that some adjust-
ment may have to be made. Perhaps John is suspicious of religions other than his own, while
Mary is an agnostic, and thus has no religion. Through reflective equilibrium, John adjusts his
beliefs to accept others who may not share his religious views, while Mary adjusts her beliefs
to allow more tolerance for those who insist on the importance of their religious commit-
ments. After much give and take, they come to a position both can accept.

In a certain sense, Rawls offers a sophisticated account of precisely the kind of thing many
of us have already done for years. To return to the sandbox of five children and one toy:

Photoalto/Photolibrary

Reflective equilibrium requires indi-
viduals to consider what’s fair and to
perhaps give ground for the sake of
tolerance and compromise.

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CHAPTER 2Section

2.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

Ideally, the children discuss among themselves what the best (or fairest) result will be.
Some of the children may have to adjust their belief that they should have the toy alone,
but, in general, this idea of negotiation leads to a bit more tolerance, and a bit more accep-
tance of others’ views. Ideally, then, they conclude their “negotiations” with the result that
is fair, just, and acceptable to all.

As Rawls makes clear, reflective equilibrium and our design of a society that is the fairest
possible are a thought experiment, describing what one might consider an ideal or opti-
mistic strategy, and concluding in a very unrealistic outcome. We see far too much intoler-
ance, and too many times we see people—and countries—reaching for weapons to resolve
their disputes. But Rawls at least suggests another way of solving these disputes, and thus
provides us with another way of thinking about a planet as diverse as ours to come to a
more constructive way to try to live with one another.

Concept Review 2.2 Topics to Be Explored

Individual Issues in Ethics Social Issues in Ethics

Promises Animal rights

Free speech Plato’s critique of democracy

Greed Rawls’s conception of fairness

Vegetarianism Libertarianism

Euthanasia The environment

2.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

We’ve seen some of the best-known ethical theories, and some of the challenges they confront. We’ve also seen some of the alternatives to these traditional theories, as well as some of their weaknesses. We will now look at some very
specific issues in ethics, describing the problems they present and how the theories
we’ve discussed may be used to resolve those problems. We will begin with personal,
or individual issues in ethics, before turning to some more general social issues in eth-
ics. Some topics such as keeping our promises or teaching children not to be greedy
seem to be restricted to individuals. In contrast, trying to understand what is at issue
in addressing environmental concerns or analyzing potential problems with democracy
appears to be more general and affect a large number of people. We will see that many
ethical issues require us to think about the relationship between the individual and the
society in which that individual lives, and that political philosophers must address this
complex relationship.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

Promises

We make promises all the time, and, for the most part, we expect promises to be kept. Since
I expect others to keep their promises, the Golden Rule, or deontological ethics, insists
that this means I should keep my promises. The utilitarian may have a different approach;
perhaps there are situations in which the greatest number achieves the greatest good by
a promise being broken. We probably also think promises have a certain context, or set of
conditions: We shouldn’t make promises we know we cannot keep, but if we make a prom-
ise and do our best to fulfill it, we may end up breaking that promise without being seen
as doing something unethical. We can start with some simple examples and then bring out
the details of these theories by slowly making the examples a bit more complex.

Imagine you promise Smith to pay him five dol-
lars next week, if he loans it to you today (you’re
friends, so he doesn’t charge you interest). This is
a simple exchange, and each of you expects the
other to fulfill his part of the bargain. Smith may
think that if he loans you the money, then some-
day in the future you might loan him the money
if he needs it. Similarly, you don’t want Smith to
think of you as someone who doesn’t meet his
obligations, or perhaps you realize that you may
need to borrow money again, so you should pay
it back this time. One might look at this from the
point of view of ethical egoism: You and Smith are
both looking out for your self-interest, now and
in the future. So Smith loans you the money; you
promise to pay it back (and do). Your self-interest
is best met by getting the money and ensuring
you might borrow more, Smith’s self-interest is
best met by loaning the money and ensuring he
might borrow money in the future. The deontolo-
gist, on the other hand, says that you have made
a promise to Smith—to pay him back—and that
one should keep one’s promises; not out of self-
interest, but because it is the right thing to do. We

can determine that it is the right thing to do by looking at it from the perspective of the
Golden Rule, or from the perspective of Kant, who would suggest that were anyone to
make a promise, morality requires that promises be kept. The utilitarian might say that
there are various outcomes in this simple example, but certainly paying back the loan will
create a utility calculation that wouldn’t be lower than any of the other outcomes. Presum-
ably, being honest and keeping one’s promises are virtues—at least if done appropriately
and in moderation—so the virtue ethicist will also insist that this promise be kept and the
money paid back. As we see, then, the ethical egoist, the deontologist, the utilitarian, and
the virtue ethicist all agree that the promise should be kept, but arrive at that conclusion
from very different directions.

But these theories may not always agree as they seem to in this example. Consider mar-
riage vows, where each person promises to love, cherish, honor, and obey, among other
things, “till death do us part.” This is, of course, a binding promise, often made before

David Kennedy/age footstock/Photolibrary

Making promises is one of many areas
we can apply ethical theory.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

God; it is, sadly, a promise that often is not, or
cannot, be kept. Presumably, people make this
promise fully intending to keep it, but circum-
stances change. It is interesting to consider what
the various ethical theories might say about this
situation. Assuming one or both members of a
marriage are sufficiently miserable to end it, the
utilitarian would probably conclude that doing
so would lead to the greatest good for the great-
est number. The deontologist might say that,
although promises should never be made lightly,
the Golden Rule or the Kantian “universality
requirement”—that we act in such a way that
such an act would always be the right thing to do
in those circumstances—could be interpreted in
such a way that ending the marriage is the right
thing to do. The virtue ethicist would probably
argue that keeping a promise to remain married
is immoderate if it makes both, or even one, of
those making the promise miserable. By doing
so, the couple fails to recognize that promises
may sometimes be broken if appropriate. In this
case, however, one can also see that others might
argue that a utility calculation, an application of
the Golden Rule, or the virtue of honesty might
require the marriage to continue.

This helps us see that ethical theories can lead
to results that not only conflict with each other
but may even conflict with common sense. For
instance, if one interprets Kant as saying that promises must never be broken, then it
would be a violation of his ethical principle to dissolve the marriage, even though that
may make everyone involved absolutely miserable for the rest of their lives. This also
shows that ethical theories aren’t really “recipes” that guarantee a certain and reliable
ethical outcome. Instead, they can give us guidance to help determine what would be
right or wrong, but we must also recognize that how the situation is described and some
of the specifics of the situation may change how we go about applying the theory.

We probably start with the assumption that promises should be kept, and that is most
likely a pretty safe assumption to start with. But can you think of situations in which
promises are made that no one expects to be kept? Or even where we would prefer a
promise not to be kept? Consider, for example, a TV commercial that seems to promise
that if you buy a particular roll of paper towels, your life will be substantially improved?
We are probably all familiar with such commercials that promise—or “promise”—that all
we need to do is buy the right kind of toothpaste or pill or car, and all of our problems will
magically disappear. It seems unlikely that very many people take such promises seri-
ously. We are also familiar with political promises; imagine a politician promising that,
if elected, she will cut taxes, eliminate the national debt, reduce government spending,
guarantee health care and good schools for everyone, and reduce unemployment. Per-
haps we don’t take such promises seriously; perhaps we vote for this candidate in hopes

Rubberball/Photolibrary

When you swear to tell the truth in
court, that is a promise that is usually
expected to be kept. More outland-
ish promises—such as in some TV
commercials or even on the political
campaign trail—don’t always carry
that same weight. Can you think of
any other situations in which promises
aren’t expected to be kept?

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

that some, if not all, of these promises will be kept. Or perhaps we vote for this candidate
hoping that such promises will be broken: We like the candidate and support many of her
positions, but we don’t want her time and energy wasted on trying to do something that
seems to be impossible!

Free Speech

The First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States reads:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or pro-
hibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of
the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition
the Government for a redress of grievances.

The questions this raises about religion—whether what is known is the “establishment”
clause or the “free exercise” clause—are pretty well known. But the questions of the free-
dom of speech, and the freedom of the press, raise issues that are also worth looking at, in
terms of constitutionally protected rights, and what our ethical theories might say about
when those rights might be violated.

As we saw with the issue of promises, we prob-
ably start with an assumption that free speech,
for individuals and for the media (or press), can-
not be prohibited; if it is prohibited, it must be
done for a very good reason. In other words, free
speech is always assumed to be protected unless
those reasons can be provided.

Yelling “Fire!”
The most famous example of when free speech can
be prohibited is the famous Supreme Court case
in which Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes noted
that one should not be allowed to yell “Fire!” in
a crowded theater. Holmes importantly insisted
that one not do so when it is false (if there is a fire,
in other words, the speech is protected) (Schenck
v. United States, 1919). Clearly enough, falsely tell-
ing those in a theater that there is a fire could lead

to panic and could put people in danger from being crushed in a rush toward the exits.
Holmes’s reasoning sounds pretty utilitarian: even if the person yelling “Fire!” gets some
degree of pleasure from doing so, and watching the chaos that results, everyone else, by
being put at risk, is harmed to some extent. Here the greatest good for the greatest number
results in prohibiting this kind of speech. But the deontologist would agree with Holmes’s
conclusion, simply pointing out that falsely yelling “Fire!” is a lie. Typically, deontological
ethics rejects lying. As we’ve seen before, here two different ethical theories come to the
same conclusion, although they do so for different reasons. Often, even those who advo-
cate the greatest amount of free speech recognize that in this specific kind of case, the harm

Lite Productions/Glow Images RF/Photolibrary

Imagine what would happen if some-
one falsely yelled “Fire!” in this
crowded theater in St. Petersburg, Rus-
sia. Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wen-
dell Holmes famously pointed out that
this would be a clear example in which
free speech should be restricted.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

that may be caused simply outweighs the right to say what one wishes to say. There are
other such restrictions recognized in the law: One cannot threaten the life of the President
of the United States (the threat is not protected as “free speech”), and one cannot joke about
bombs or hijacking while waiting in line to board an airplane. Most people recognize these
as legitimate restrictions to the First Amendment guarantee of free speech.

Freedom for Speech We Don’t Like
But there are more difficult cases, which frequently
show up in court and make clear the problem that
one person’s right to say something may violate
another person’s rights not to hear (or see) it.
For instance, there are various laws against por-
nography: its production, distribution, and sale.
Should an adult be able to take whatever kind of
pictures he wants and sell them to another adult?
Some argue that preventing this is a restriction on
free speech; others argue that it creates damaging
conceptions of women that can lead to violence,
sexual abuse, rape, and other immoral and ille-
gal acts because pornography presents women as
objects (thus treating them as means to an end,
not as ends in themselves, in Kantian language).
Even though most people agree that child por-
nography should be illegal (as it is in the United
States), because it violates the rights of underage
minors, what about a novel depicting in words
what in pictures would be child pornography?
Should consenting adults be allowed to write and
read such novels?

Or consider this real-life example, from the 1970s.
Skokie, Illinois, is a suburb of Chicago, where
many survivors of the Nazi Holocaust moved
when they left Germany. Most of these people
had lost spouses, parents, and even children to the
death camps the Nazis had constructed; some may
well have barely escaped themselves. The Holo-
caust was, understandably, an extremely painful
memory for many residents of Skokie. An offshoot
of the American Nazi Party wanted to march in
Skokie, wearing Nazi uniforms, including swastikas and other Nazi symbols. On the one
hand, then, Holocaust survivors seemed to have a very legitimate complaint, not wanting a
parade in their town that celebrated their former persecutors. On the other hand, didn’t the
American Nazis have a right to free speech? Ultimately, the Supreme Court ruled that the
Nazis could march, although they ended up marching not in Skokie, but in the city of Chi-
cago itself. Five Justices thought the Nazis should be allowed to march, while four Justices
did not (National Socialist Party of America v. Village of Skokie, 1977) so clearly there was a good
bit of disagreement. Do you think that was the correct decision?

Jim West/Imagebroker.net/Photolibrary

For the most part, the First Amendment
allows us to express our thoughts and
ideas without fear of retribution. Here,
a union member in Detroit pickets in
front of a Bank of America branch,
demanding that Wall Street banks pay
the cost of creating good jobs. Free
speech isn’t always so clear-cut, par-
ticularly when the speech in question
offends others.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

Many other such cases have arisen, where one
person’s right to free speech conflicts with another
person’s desire—possibly legitimate desire—to
prevent that speech. Should high school students
be allowed to wear T-shirts that other students—
or teachers—find offensive? Should a person be
allowed to advocate the overthrow of the United
States government? Should a person be allowed to
design a Web page calling for the murder of phy-
sicians who provide abortion services? Should a
student be allowed to pray in school? Should such
schools allow or prevent such prayers at official
school functions, such as football games or gradu-
ations? There are, of course, dangers here that we
have already seen. We may want to protect reli-
gious speech, but what if one person’s religious
speech offends another person’s religious beliefs?
Is there a danger of a religious majority trampling
the rights of a religious minority?

Again, we see that ethical theories don’t provide easily applied recipes. A good exercise
is to see what a utilitarian might respond to these kinds of cases, and what a deontolo-
gist would say. Would they agree? Would they disagree? How would they support their
conclusions? Would it depend on the circumstances of the case? If so, does that prevent us
from developing a sufficiently general notion of morality, as expressed in the Golden Rule
or the “greatest good for the greatest number” principle of utilitarianism?

Greed

Earlier, in the context of ethical egoism, we looked briefly at the notion of selfishness, and
saw that this ethical theory called into question some of the traditional philosophical and
religious objections against selfishness and what many see as the result of such selfish-
ness, greed. Here we will look at the issue a bit more explicitly, and see what traditional
ethical views may say about greed, and whether there may be a conflict between those
traditional views and certain principles underlying a capitalist economy.

In director Oliver Stone’s film Wall Street, a wealthy investor named Gordon Gekko makes
a speech that is now probably better known than the movie. The most famous section of
that speech says this:

I am not a destroyer of companies. I am a liberator of them!

The point is, ladies and gentleman, that greed—for lack of a better word—
is good.

Greed is right. Greed works. Greed clarifies, cuts through, and captures the
essence of the evolutionary spirit.

Roy Morsch/age footstock/Photolibrary

A Ku Klux Klansman passes out pro-
paganda in Connecticut. Free speech
cases come before the court when one
person’s right to free speech conflicts
with another person’s desire to hear it.
How far do you think the right to free
speech should extend?

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

Greed, in all of its forms—greed for life, for money, for love, knowledge—
has marked the upward surge of mankind. (Pressman & Stone, 1987)

As we saw briefly, in economic exchanges between two people, each wants the very most
he or she can get out of that exchange. If John wants to buy something from Mary, he
wants the most he can get for the least amount of money, and Mary wants the greatest
amount of money she can get while giving up the least. This desire for getting the most for
the least is often considered the way we do, and even should, act; traditionally, however,
wanting as much of something as you can possibly get was called being greedy! In con-
trast to Gordon Gekko, one might consider this passage (one of many expressing much
the same view) from the Christian Bible, and the
Gospel According to St. Luke: “Watch out! Be on
your guard against all kinds of greed; a man’s
life does not consist in the abundance of his pos-
sessions” (Lk. 12:15). Many religious traditions
regard greed—sometimes called avarice, or cov-
etousness, or cupidity—as a sin. Gordon Gekko
says “greed is good”; St. Luke says “greed is bad.”
Presumably, they can’t both be right!

St. Luke seems to be backed up by traditional
ethical theories (although, as we’ve seen, he may
not be backed up by the theory of ethical egoism).
Returning to our sandbox with five children and
one toy: We see the greedy child wanting the toy
all to himself. The utilitarian will reject this as
not generating the greatest good for the greatest
number, whereas the deontologist will point out
that this isn’t the kind of act that would always be the right thing to do. It is probably
safe to assume that St. Luke approved of the Golden Rule, and we can simply apply it
by asking the greedy child: Would you like it if some other greedy child took the toy and
didn’t allow anyone else—including you—to play with it? The virtue ethicist would see
such greed as an extreme: We may desire to have certain things, but those desires should
be moderate. Perhaps we shouldn’t desire too little, which would be an extreme of self-
sacrifice, but the extreme of desiring too much is
precisely what we are discussing, and which vir-
tue ethics would reject: greed.

Does this mean that our ethical theories are in
fundamental conflict with our economic theories?
In many ways, the speech we saw from Gordon
Gekko summarizes how capitalism works. A
business wants to sell the most goods, or offer the
most services, at the highest prices it can charge,
and it wants to capture the largest market share.
Its competitors want to do the same thing. Its cus-
tomers, on the other hand, want the most goods
or services for the lowest prices they can find and
will be happy to go to the company’s competi-
tors to do so. There is, then, competition between

Imagesource/Photolibrary

It seems that greed underpins the capi-
talist system and the resulting private
ownership of capital. So, is greed good
or bad? What do you think?

4×5 Coll-Movie Collection/Superstock/Photolibrary

Gordon Gekko, played by Michael
Douglas in the 1987 film Wall Street,
makes a famous speech about how
greed is a good thing.

mos66103_02_ch02_031-094.indd 67 11/30/10 4:53 PM

CHAPTER 2Section 2.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

customers and companies, and the end result is
that customers get the best price, companies that
make the best product have the highest profits,
and companies that charge too much or produce
goods or services of lower quality go out of busi-
ness. So if one acts in one’s self-interest (whether
as company or customer), and thus wants the
best deal possible, that is not just acting selfishly,
it seems to be acting greedily So maybe Gordon
Gekko is right. Greed is good!

Of course, there are some legal restrictions that
prevent some types of greed. Perhaps one com-
pany sells a product so cheaply that it manages to
beat out a large part of its competition, but it turns
out that the product it sells is so cheap because it
pays its workers very low wages, or the product
is produced in a way that could harm customers.
Thus, the Food and Drug Administration might
shut down a company that takes shortcuts in its
production of hamburger because its product
(while cheap!) makes its customers sick. Nor can
a company, at least in theory, capture so much
of the market that it can operate as a monopoly.
Monopolies are such companies that don’t really
have any effective competition, so they can charge
whatever price they wish, as long as people either
want or need to buy what that company sells. The

U.S. government has sued both IBM and Microsoft for operating as monopolies. So there
are some rules that prevent absolute, unrestricted greed, but that doesn’t mean that a
company (or a customer) shouldn’t act in a way that, to all appearances, seems to be doing
exactly what St. Luke and many others have objected to as being greedy.

It isn’t entirely clear how ethical theories treat this apparent conflict between business
practice and moral values. Perhaps one might say that in certain contexts greed is good,
whereas in other contexts it is wrong? That is, we might decide not to describe seeking
the biggest profits, or the lowest prices, as being greedy at all? Or we might recognize that
businesses don’t follow the same moral code as individuals, and, in any case, many com-
panies that have traditionally made large profits have also made many charitable contri-
butions and supported worthy causes. Cynics might suggest they do this because they do
not want to feel guilty or because they want to have a better public image or because they
can reduce their taxes by giving to charity, or they could be making charitable contribu-
tions for all three reasons.

In any case, we see again that whatever ethical theory we adopt, we run into some diffi-
culty in applying it. One might argue that the ethical egoist is right, and greed is good, but
what does that tell us about traditional religious prohibitions against greed? The utilitar-
ian might suggest that greed, or efficient business practices, generates the greatest good
for the greatest number, and in this specific kind of case we may either want to grant that

Martin Poole/Photodisc/Thinkstock

One could argue that greed is good in
the business sense and passes along
the best price to consumers. As busi-
nesses fight for more profit and market
share, they usually improve their prod-
uct and compete by discounting prices.

mos66103_02_ch02_031-094.indd 68 11/30/10 4:53 PM

CHAPTER 2Section 2.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

greed is, in fact, good, or simply call it something
other than greed. The greedy deontologist, for
that matter, might say that she is doing precisely
what all her competitors do, and that custom-
ers all expect this kind of approach. In that case,
does this then satisfy the deontological require-
ment that any act be universalized, or could be
done precisely the same way in the same situa-
tion? Indeed, the old phrase caveat emptor, or “let
the buyer beware,” suggests that we all make cer-
tain assumptions about economic exchanges, and
that we should assume that the other person (or
company) is acting in a way that might be called
greedy; but so is everyone! Perhaps no one would
teach his or her child that it is good to be greedy,
but one might have to explain to that same child
how the business world works. The difficulty
might arise when that child then asks “So, should
I be greedy or should I not be greedy?” That may
not be the easiest question to answer!

Vegetarianism

The once-famous, now somewhat forgotten Ger-
man philosopher Ludwig Feuerbach observed
that “You are what you eat.” Feuerbach seemed to
mean that the health and well-being of a human
being are determined by what that person eats.
We are all familiar with the notion that a healthful
diet is important, and that those who eat foods high in saturated fat, cholesterol, trans-
fats, and the other scary things we seem to hear a lot about may be at much greater risk
for stroke, heart disease, cancer, diabetes, and other health problems. This seems pretty
obvious, but can there be ethical issues involved with diet? It seems so, and from two
different directions. From one perspective, what one eats may reflect one’s relationship
to the rest of nature, and whether one seeks to be, more or less, in some kind of harmony
with nature. The other perspective investigates how our food is produced, and whether
it involves unnecessary cruelty and harm to sentient beings—beings that can feel pain. If
the only way my food can be produced is to inflict pain, especially unnecessary pain, on
other animals, should I care? Should I want to know more about it, or might I prefer not to
know how my food is produced? The famous German politician Otto von Bismarck once
pointed out that one can’t enjoy politics or sausage if one closely observed how political
decisions or sausage is made. This is often taken to be an insightful wisecrack about poli-
tics, but it might also say something about the food we eat. Would someone continue to
enjoy eating meat if that person knew how the animal in question was raised?

We can focus here on this second perspective and the questions it raises. We can assume
that some, most, or even all animals other than human beings—we are also animals,
after all—feel pain. A dog will yelp when kicked, and a lobster emits a distinctive scream

Viewchina/Sinopictures/Photolibrary

Greed isn’t always “good” in the cor-
porate world. In 2008, it was discov-
ered that some Chinese companies
were adding the chemical melamine
to their infant milk products to give
the appearance of higher protein con-
tent. Here, supermarket staff in Hefei
remove formula from their shelves.

mos66103_02_ch02_031-094.indd 69 11/30/10 4:53 PM

CHAPTER 2Section 2.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

when dropped into a pot of boiling water. Some
animals, of course, seem to have more complex
brains and nervous systems; presumably animals
such as chimpanzees and dolphins feel pain in
ways more similar to human beings than, say, a
snail or a trout.

One might begin, as we have done before, by
identifying the extreme positions relative to what
one might eat, and what one might do to produce
what one eats. At one extreme, we can identify
the extreme omnivore: In this view, one simply
eats anything and everything one wants to, and
doesn’t care a lick about how that food is pro-
duced. At the other extreme, which we can call the
extreme vegan, is a person who refuses to eat any
animal products whatsoever, including insects, as
well as by-products such as butter, eggs, or cheese,
or food containing these, such as most pastas and
breads. We could have a more extreme version of
this, perhaps, but someone who refused to eat any-
thing that had once been alive—such as plants—
might also not be alive for very long, either. Few
people adopt either such extreme: Even an extreme
omnivore might (we hope!) draw the line at eat-
ing human flesh, and an extreme vegan may be
willing to eat some things, such as yeast or apples,

even though it may be difficult to determine whether yeast is in the relevant sense “alive,”
and often apples are glazed with a shellac made from insects.

But within these extremes is a wide range of positions. Some carnivores don’t eat red
meat (typically beef, pork, and other mammals; this can also include duck in some
views) but only chicken and fish; some vegetarians—not vegans—eat eggs, cheese, and
butter. Some people who eat fish consider themselves vegetarians, and other even more

interesting approaches have been adopted: I’ve
heard people say that they won’t eat anything
with a personality, or anything with a face! Addi-
tionally, what a person is willing to consume
may depend on the specific culture that per-
son is raised in: In some cultures, eating pork is
thought to be not just revolting but a violation of
strict religious dietary laws. In the United States,
many are repulsed by the idea of eating dogs or
chimpanzees, while other cultures may eat both
without giving it any more thought than some
Americans might give to eating a pork chop.

Comstock/Thinkstock

Some people go to the extreme and
refuse to eat anything that was once
alive—or perhaps adorable—and could
feel pain.

Angela Drury/Fancy/Photolibrary

A woman shops at a farmers’ market.
Some people are very thoughtful about
what they eat and where it comes from;
their dining habits represent ethical
choices they have made. What moral
choices guide your eating habits?

mos66103_02_ch02_031-094.indd 70 11/30/10 4:53 PM

CHAPTER 2Section 2.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

Speciesism
Can ethicists give us any guidance on determin-
ing the right thing to do (or eat)? Famously, Peter
Singer argues from the perspective of utilitari-
anism that animals—both human and others—
deserve some degree of respect because they have
“interests.” Minimally, all animals seek pleasure
and avoid pain. Singer regards the idea that
human interests are somehow superior to those of
other sentient beings as indefensible. We assume,
but with some good evidence, that rocks don’t
feel pain, but that cats do; Singer believes that we
should take into consideration that cat’s pain (but
we don’t need to worry about the rock’s). To do
otherwise is to just assume what he calls species-
ism, which ignores the interests (and suffering)
of other species. Singer thinks the logic of that
assumption is no more defensible than ignoring
the interests of other races or of a particular gen-
der, and thus that speciesism is no better than racism or sexism. Singer is not saying, by
the way, that other animals are somehow identical to human beings. Rather, he says that
other animals should have their interests taken into consideration. We don’t, as he notes,
say that human beings are all identical in terms of ability, intelligence, size, and so on,
when we say “All human beings are created equal.” But we do think, presumably, that
all human beings deserve an equal consideration of their interests. Singer concludes that
respecting the greatest good for the greatest number—the greatest number of sentient
beings with interests, not just human beings—
provides an argument against killing and eating
sentient beings and an argument, therefore, in
favor of vegetarianism (or, perhaps, veganism)
(Singer, 1975).

Singer’s position may be extreme, and there is
little doubt that his views are very controversial.
They are also often rejected by many who would
just prefer not to consider them! But many oth-
ers point to some things done to produce our food
and suggest that it inflicts needless pain and cru-
elty. Veal is often produced, for instance, by taking
a calf away from its mother at birth and raising it
in a crate too small for it to turn around or com-
fortably lie down in; the calf is never allowed any
exercise and is fed a milk substitute, in order to
produce the prized pink flesh the calf has when
it is slaughtered when it is between 12 and 23
weeks old. Factory-farmed chickens are kept in
small cages, often along with tens of thousands of
other chickens; they frequently have their beaks

Index Stock Imagery/Photolibrary

While some vegetarians eschew all
meat and dairy, some conscientious
eaters simply choose what is often
called cruelty-free meat—not raised on
so-called factory farms. For example,
chickens have been known to be raised
in cramped quarters to maximize effi-
ciency, weight gain, and the like, so
some people look for free-range or
cage-free chicken and eggs.

iStockphoto/Thinkstock

Even though there are extremes, many
people’s diets fall in between, for vari-
ous reasons. For example, some people
limit their diet to locally grown food in
order to minimize the environmental
impact of transporting cheap vegeta-
bles from faraway places.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

removed, are injected with growth-producing drugs, and often cannot stand up due to
their weight. The crowded conditions also generate a great deal of disease that quickly
spreads from chicken to chicken. Methods for raising cows, pigs, fish, and other animals
exclusively for food have also been criticized as inflicting needless pain on the animals
involved.

This is an interesting ethical issue, for in this case many people would prefer to ignore the
issue; it is, after all, considerably easier to enjoy fried chicken if one doesn’t know what
might have been done to the chicken! Those arguing for vegetarian diets, or at least for
decreasing the portion of one’s diet that includes meat, have often argued that diets rich
in meat are not particularly healthful, and that they require cruelty that may not be neces-
sary. Of course, there are many who argue that eating meat itself is not wrong, but that to
do so does not require the kind of practices so frequently seen in factory farming.

One might see, in this case, virtue ethics as making a compelling case: that one should
avoid any cruelty that can be avoided and that a moderate approach might include some
meat but not too much, or perhaps meat of some kinds but not of others. Aristotle, often
regarded as the originator of virtue ethics, recommended “clear meats,” by which he
seemed to mean poultry and fish, rather than red meat. It is an interesting question to
consider whether this result might be seen as being in agreement with some versions of
utilitarianism (not, of course, Singer’s) as well as some versions of deontology. To be sure,
ethical theory isn’t, generally, going to determine what we eat, but it might make us pause
and think about whether we have good reasons for eating what we do, and whether we
should learn a little more about how we get that which we are willing (or unwilling) to eat.

Euthanasia

Richard’s wife of 40 years, Elizabeth, has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Eliza-
beth, who is in her 70s, has been told by several different physicians that the disease
is unquestionably terminal, that she should expect to live, at the most, 18 months, and

that she will experience increasing levels of pain.
There are drugs that can minimize the pain, but
they are sometimes ineffective in fully relieving
it. As the weeks go by, Elizabeth experiences pain
that continues to grow more and more severe
and is frequently in agony; her doctor has given
her the strongest drugs available, and in massive
doses, but they seem not to work. Increasingly,
Richard has to sit there, helplessly, watching his
wife suffer almost unendurable pain.

This is the kind of case that some ethicists have
argued support euthanasia (from the Greek for
“good death”), or the right to die. The argument
is straightforward: A person is 99% certain to die
within a certain time, but before that death natu-
rally occurs, the patient is kept alive only to suffer.
Doesn’t it make more sense to allow that person

Tom Koene/Lineair/Photolibrary

Some would argue for a patient’s
right to choose death with dignity or
physician-assisted suicide, while oth-
ers worry that it paves the way for an
increasing lack of respect for life or
more suicides for various reasons.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

to avoid that suffering, and voluntarily to choose a somewhat earlier painless death? What
purpose is served, in other words, by keeping a person alive only to experience constant,
agonizing pain? Another approach, physician-assisted suicide (PAS), is slightly different
than euthanasia; in using PAS, the patient is provided the means for terminating his or
her life, but the patient, not the doctor, ends the life in question. Some countries, such as
the Netherlands and Belgium, have made PAS legal; Oregon legalized PAS in 1997; the
Supreme Court upheld Oregon’s “death with dignity” law as constitutional in 2006.

Much of the opposition to euthanasia and PAS comes from a religious orientation. In this
view, life is a gift from God and precious. To end it prematurely is to reject that gift. Only
God should determine when a life should end; as St. Thomas Aquinas put it, “whoever
takes his own life sins against God.” It is also, according to some religious traditions, to
indicate a lack of trust in God and a rejection of God’s plan for that person. Other objec-
tions to PAS, not explicitly based on religion, point to the consequences that might follow
from its legalization: that there will be an increase in such suicides and a corresponding
loss of respect for life, and that patients may feel pressure—subtle or not so subtle—from
family members or physicians to terminate their lives prematurely. Still others are con-
cerned that a person may choose PAS on the basis of inadequate reasons, such as a long
period of depression or as a reaction to a specific tragic event.

Assuming Elizabeth has PAS available to her as an option, she and her husband still con-
front an extremely difficult decision, and one that has to be made under the most chal-
lenging circumstances. We also see that, unfortunately, even though ethics may help make
clear what is involved in making this decision, it ultimately may not be able to provide
a solution that is completely satisfactory to everyone. Indeed, regardless of the view one
adopts—utilitarianism, deontology, virtue ethics, or even one of the more contemporary
alternatives to these—the debate will continue. One deontologist might well suggest that
it is always wrong to end one’s life willingly, whereas another may insist that respect
for human life demands that a human life continued, only to endure suffering, should
be terminated. A virtue ethicist may, on the one hand, argue that immoderate measures
taken to prolong suffering violate the appropriate level of moderation demanded by the
Golden Mean, whereas another might argue that the preciousness of human life requires
that life not be terminated, and that here moderation itself is inappropriate. A utilitarian
might argue that the greatest good for the greatest
number is the result when needless pain is mini-
mized; on the other hand, a different approach to
utilitarianism might insist that the greatest good
for the greatest number is guaranteed only if all
members of a society reject PAS in order to make
clear the ultimate value of the lives of all members
of society.

As the debate between two utilitarians—one
arguing for and one arguing against PAS—makes
clear, we can begin to see more clearly that indi-
vidual ethical decisions may not always simply
be individual decisions. If Elizabeth chooses PAS
and terminates her life, that decision affects many
others in society, and is, of course, representative

Martin Ley/Maritius/Photolibrary

The question of euthanasia illustrates
how ethical issues are not always indi-
vidual decisions; our choices often
affect other people.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

of one view within her larger society. Others may condemn her decision on the basis of
their own ethical or religious views, but do they have the right to insist that those views
be the basis for laws that are enforced for everyone, including those who reject their ethi-
cal and religious values? We probably don’t think kosher laws—such as the prohibition
against eating pork—should be imposed on those who don’t accept kosher dietary laws.
But should, for instance, a Roman Catholic believe that her view on PAS be imposed on
someone who doesn’t share her beliefs, or even actively rejects them, as might an agnostic
or an atheist?

As is often the case when ethical dilemmas are dealt with in terms of public policy and
legislation, certain compromises are sought. Many argue that one solution is to continue
to find drugs and other forms of palliative care—treatment that seeks to reduce the suf-
fering a disease may cause—that provide effective responses to the anguish a person such
as Elizabeth has to deal with. The hospice movement, which treats terminal patients with
dignity, emphasizes the reduction of suffering during the end of life, and promotes death
with dignity, has become an increasingly attractive option for those who resist endorsing
PAS.

In general, then, as we’ve seen with a number of the “individual” ethical decisions we’ve
discussed, ethical theory can do a great deal to clarify what is at stake and to help us make
a better evaluation of the specific decisions one may have to make. Ethics can also help
provide us some insight into how we might teach others, such as children, how to begin
thinking about difficult (and even not so difficult) ethical choices. Two results, which can
make the process just a bit more frustrating, seem to emerge. First, as we have seen repeat-
edly, ethics doesn’t provide any sort of guarantee of a response to a difficult ethical issue
that will satisfy everyone. (We will look at this in a bit more detail in the next section.)
Second, we will see that trying to keep distinct ethical questions that confront individuals
and ethical questions that involve large parts of society—and even society as a whole—is
a distinction that may, ultimately, be impossible to defend. That will be the focus of our
discussion as we turn to attention to “Social Issues in Ethics.”

Ethics: Theory and Practice

A “decision procedure” is pretty much what it sounds like: a procedure, or a method to
follow, that allows us to make a decision or to arrive at a result. Even though the idea
can get pretty complex when logicians, computer scientists, and mathematicians get their
hands on “decision procedures,” for our purposes we will think of it as simply a way of
getting an answer to a question or, more generally, seeing what comes out if we put cer-
tain things in. So, informally, if we enter “2” and “+” and “4” into a calculator, we should
get the answer “6.” This is, of course, the decision procedure we follow in addition. In a
similar way, we can think of a toaster as a similar kind of procedure: Assuming everything
is working as it is supposed to, we put the bread in, push down the lever that starts it,
and in a certain amount of time (depending on its setting from light to dark) the bread
pops up, toasted. We will consider calculators and toasters, then, effective decision proce-
dures because, if they are working correctly, and we put in appropriate things (numbers
or bread), we are guaranteed to get the result we expected. We probably don’t think this
has much to do with ethics, but, in a way, it does.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.3 Individual Issues in Ethics

Is It a Recipe?
Before seeing why, let’s consider a notion we’ve
mentioned before, a recipe. Let’s imagine we want
to make a cheese soufflé, a light, fluffy baked cake.
We get the ingredients (eggs, milk, flour, butter,
and cheese) and follow the recipe exactly, includ-
ing all the specific times and temperatures for
mixing and baking the recipe calls for. At the end
of our efforts, are we guaranteed to get a light,
fluffy baked cheese soufflé? As those of you know
who have tried to make one, soufflés are tricky,
and there is no guarantee, no matter how hard
one tries to follow the directions of the recipe,
that one will end up with a soufflé when done.
Creating toast requires a pretty easy recipe, with
very few variables (bread, heat); however, creat-
ing a soufflé has many variables, some of which
can’t be controlled (humidity or the child who runs through the kitchen at a crucial time,
making enough noise to cause the soufflé to collapse). Indeed, anyone who has done even
a small amount of cooking knows that a recipe provides guidance, but no guarantee, for
creating a specific dish. We probably can all boil water and make toast, but preparing a
perfect soufflé is more troublesome for the more complex the dish is, the more complex
the recipe is, and the more difficulty we will encounter going from the recipe to the fin-
ished product.

Ethics Calculators
Philosophy, in general, can be very frustrating, as you have probably already discovered.
Philosophers are particularly good at coming up with ways to make people confused: Per-
haps you are certain that you know something, and then the philosopher comes along and
convinces you that you shouldn’t be so certain, or even that you are wrong! But ethics may
be worse: We may not care so much about whether what we claim to know we really do
know. But ethical challenges grip us in a way that is different. Would it be wrong to take
food from a grocery store in order to feed my family? Should I lie to the police in order
to protect my boss, and thus save my job? I think my next-door neighbor is selling crack;
should I tell someone about it? The only pharmacist in town has a drug that will save my
spouse’s life, but I can’t afford it; would it be moral to steal it?

It would be nice if we had a “moral calculator” that we could ask these kinds of ques-
tions to: Then, if it is operating correctly, it would always tell us the correct moral answer
(and the moral answer everyone else will agree on!). Unfortunately, there isn’t any better
chance of finding a “moral calculator” than there is for getting such a calculator to answer
any number of questions that are important yet difficult to answer. We will see questions
of this type not just in ethics, but in the following chapters on what we can know (epis-
temology) and on faith and God (the philosophy of religion). To use the language we
introduced earlier, we generally don’t have “effective decision procedures” we can use to
solve problems in philosophy.

Lite Productions/Photolibrary

We may not have a convenient calcula-
tor to help us make ethical decisions,
but theory and practice at least provide
us with guidance, much like a cook fol-
lowing a recipe.

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CHAPTER 2Section

2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

That, of course, doesn’t mean philosophy can’t be very useful. Imagine two very inexpe-
rienced cooks, Tim and Lucy, each trying to make an elaborate dish. Tim has a cookbook
that lists the ingredients and a complicated, but understandable, recipe for the dish; Lucy
has no such information. Neither has much of a clue, but Tim has some information that
can help, quite a lot, that Lucy does not have. We may not be certain that Tim will be suc-
cessful in producing a dish that we can eat, but we are probably pretty sure he has a better
chance of doing so than Lucy!

Studying ethics is a lot more like making this kind of a dish than it is like adding two
numbers or making toast. Ethics can help clarify what the particular issue is and help
us get a clearer idea about how we might describe the problem. It can make very use-
ful suggestions about how one might, in general, go about evaluating a response to a
difficult moral question. Perhaps our ethical theory will indicate how such a response
creates a greater good for a greater number of people than any other response. Or
maybe our theory shows us that the proposed response would violate an absolute rule
of morality, or violate the Golden Rule. In other words, ethical theory can give us some
help and important guidance for how we might make ethical choices and how we might
evaluate them. To expect better results from ethical theory than we expect from a cook-
book is probably to expect too much. But just as Tim has an advantage over Lucy by at
least having some very valuable information, studying ethics provides similar valuable
information for us—just no guarantees!—when we confront the many ethical challenges
life presents.

2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

We’ve now looked not just at ethical theories, but also at some of the kinds of ethical challenges ethics can help us understand—and maybe respond to a little better. So far we have focused on the kinds of ethical problems we seem to con-
front as individuals; here we will move to more general ethical issues that society often
has to deal with as a whole. Because these questions affect everyone, we will need to see
how everyone’s voices can be heard in proposing solutions to them, or why, perhaps, such
solutions should be left to experts to make. We will conclude by wondering whether we
can really make sense of the distinction between individual ethical decisions and social
ethical decisions.

Animal Rights

We touched earlier on the question of animal rights when discussing the ethical issues
related to consuming animals for nutrients, including vegetarianism. But we also use eth-
ics to navigate other issues regarding the relationship between humans and animals. But
there are a number of issues involved, occasionally raising questions we may not have
previously considered. As is so often the case, ethics can add rigor and depth to the dis-
cussion, but won’t offer any easy or simple answers.

Before considering some of these issues, we might want to consider human beings and
other animals; too frequently the discussion proceeds in terms of this contrast, without the

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

explicit recognition that human beings are animals. We may be different kinds of animals,
or we possess things that other animals do not; but we also share a number of things with
the rest of the members of the animal kingdom. Here, however, we will usually speak in
terms of animals as all those who are not the human kind of animal.

What We Have in Common
For centuries, however, this distinction was taken
for granted, and a sharp line could be drawn
between human beings and other animals. Des-
cartes, for instance, regarded other animals as
simply physical bodies; only human beings had
minds, or souls; thus, all other animals were
similar to organic machines. This, of course, is in
line with a long history of thinking in the West-
ern and Christian tradition. Another aspect of
that tradition, sometimes called the Great Chain
of Being, ranks all things from highest to lowest:
God, followed by the angels, then human beings,
then other animals, then plants. There are a num-
ber of distinctions within these categories as well; some rank kings higher than other
humans, men higher than women, some classes of angels higher than others, and at its
most detailed, some even rank some plants higher than others, so the oak tree is seen as
somehow superior to the yew tree! In contemporary times, however, continued research
has indicated that animals other than human beings may do many of the things once
regarded as uniquely human: making tools, developing plans, grieving the death of a
partner or mate, remembering, and using language. Various researchers have argued that
all of these things may be found among other animals. In an effort to pinpoint what makes
humans unique, others have proposed the propensity for religion, the ability to pretend,
a sense of time, and even essential differences in the brain. If we regard the brain and the
mind, as some do, the final suggestion here may return us to the position of Descartes.
More important, however, there continues to be a debate about where we draw the line
between human beings and other animals. Research and interaction with some species,
such as cetaceans (whales, dolphins) and primates (chimpanzees, bonobos), make draw-
ing this line more difficult to defend without simply assuming how to draw it. Finally,
biologists have demonstrated that human DNA and chimpanzee DNA overlap between
95 and 98 percent. Primatologists have suggested that the DNA of bonobos, another pri-
mate, overlaps with human DNA to an even greater extent (Navin et al., 2006).

Ultimately, the point may be that drawing the line between human beings and other ani-
mals is arbitrary and depends on controversial criteria: Do we, for instance, regard bono-
bos and dolphins as sufficiently close to us to deserve “respect” that we would think odd
if given to crabs or mice? If the line all the way from human beings to, say, bacteria is
continuous, and without any gaps, then anywhere we draw the line will be controversial
and, to a certain extent, guesswork. One solution, as we have seen, is simply to distinguish
human beings from other animals, but that seems more an assumption rather than a posi-
tion one can clearly defend on the basis of an argument.

Kurt Kracher/Imagebroker.net/Photolibrary

What differentiates humans from non-
human animals?

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

Where Do We Draw the Line?
But drawing this line is essential to the question
of animal rights. Various things are done with,
and to, animals that society seems, generally, to
accept: making clothes and shoes, testing pharma-
ceuticals and perfumes, and even having animals
fight to the death for purposes of sport. Some cul-
tures adopt these practices, whereas others find
one or more of these practices questionable at
best; thus, many Americans objected strongly to
the revelations about professional football player
Michael Vick’s involvement in dog fighting. Yet
other countries regularly stage bullfights, which
often conclude with a ritualized death of the bull.
In the United States, some groups strongly criti-
cize the raising, killing, and skinning of animals
for those who wish to wear fur, whereas others

regard such criticism as being too sensitive to animals. People need drugs that can be used
safely; should chimpanzees be treated solely as objects to test drugs in order to establish
that they are safe? A fairly standard test for cosmetics and many other products, called the
Draize test, applies a substance to an animal that is restrained and conscious, to record its
effects (burning, toxicity, etc.); is the Draize test necessary? These are some of the issues
raised in debates over animal rights.

There are a wide range of ways ethicists, and for
that matter most people, have responded to these
issues, most of which fundamentally depend on
what we think about our relationship to other
animals. The easiest, perhaps, is to simply fol-
low Descartes: If we recognize humans as unique,
and all other animals as inferior in one or many
ways, then there really is no obvious problem in
treating other animals as we wish. But this easy
answer seems to confront the uncomfortable chal-
lenge from those who would never treat their
pets—dogs, cats, ferrets, and the like—in ways
that would be generally regarded as cruel. On the
other hand, those who propose that we draw the
line at sentient beings (similar, as we have seen,
to Peter Singer) and who believe that any animal
that may feel pain cannot be treated solely as an
object—this would be a deontological version of
Singer’s utilitarian critique—suggest that no ani-
mal products can be used. This would eliminate

not only bullfighting and animal testing but would seem to prohibit eating honey or using
leather products. Somewhere in between may be a response that many find most satis-
factory, recognizing that although compromises have to be made, torturing animals for
perfume or a fur coat may be unnecessary. This compromise position also incorporates

John Foxx/Stockbyte/Thinkstock

Many people would say they oppose
cruelty to animals, but draw the line at
different places. Some might even pro-
test taking honey from bees.

Kevin Galvin/imagebroker.net/Photolibrary

Some people strongly object to Spain’s
bullfighting tradition, but others
would argue that it is an important cul-
tural pastime. Where do you stand on
animal rights?

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

the idea that cruelty to other animals not only inflicts needless pain and suffering but also
says a good bit about those who are willing to inflict that pain and suffering.

Plato’s Critique of Democracy

Some ethical issues seem to be based just on an individual’s behavior and how that behav-
ior should be evaluated (such as whether one person should keep a promise). Others
may be based on a larger part of one’s community
(such as a difference of values between two reli-
gious groups). But still others can affect an entire
community, culture, country, or state. Plato seems
to offer a stinging challenge to one of the assump-
tions many make, about the value and importance
of a particular commitment to that set of values
associated with democracy.

Democratic theory can become rather complex;
nevertheless, here we can simply think of “democ-
racy” as referring to the idea that political deci-
sions are made by the people in the state, whether
directly (direct democracy) or by those elected to
represent them (representative democracy). In
this view, then, all citizens within a democracy
are regarded as equal before the law, and their
freedoms and rights are recognized by the state
and protected by such things as a constitution and
well-established legal procedures. There are tech-
nical distinctions, and heated arguments, about whether the United States is a democracy
or a republic; for the present discussion, we will assume that whatever its precise political
structure, the United States generally follows (or tries to follow) democratic procedures.

People often take democracy and its commitment to rights and freedoms for granted, and
thus are often surprised when the very idea of democracy is challenged. Yet those chal-
lenges have been frequent and made surprisingly often. One of the best known is Plato’s.
The full argument, which can be found in his famous book The Republic, is very long and
very complex, so we will only look at what may be the central concern Plato expresses
about democracy. We can start at what may be a surprising place: the food court at the
local shopping mall.

One day Kirsten is shopping at the mall, and feels a sharp, severe pain. Fearing she may
need immediate medical attention, she heads to the food court, picks the first person she
sees, and asks that person for a diagnosis and expert medical advice. I hope we regard
Kirsten’s behavior here as a bit peculiar, to say the least! Or consider Rob, who needs his
car fixed. Instead of finding a qualified mechanic, Rob picks a name at random out of the
phone book and asks that person to fix his car. His approach is a bit strange, perhaps; but
what about Amy? She wants to learn to play the piano and simply asks the first person
she sees on the bus to teach her.

Tetra Images/Photolibrary

Democracy, or government by its citi-
zens (whether direct or representative),
is considered by many to be the corner-
stone of U.S. history and is sometimes
taken for granted today. We might
be surprised to learn that the idea of
democracy has its challenges.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

We probably think—and should think—that
Kirsten, Rob, and Amy are behaving foolishly. One
doesn’t get medical care, one’s automobile repaired,
or piano lessons from just anybody; rather, we
find an expert (or at least someone who claims to
be an expert). We find a physician, a mechanic, a
piano teacher: someone with training, experience,
and credentials. That seems to make sense: If we
want someone to do something right, we look for
someone who has the relevant skills in the rele-
vant area.

But when we turn to the decisions a state or politi-
cal community makes, we see that here decisions
are made that are considerably more significant
than having one’s car fixed, learning to play the

piano, or even having a pain looked at. States decide, for instance, if members of that state
may be required to risk, and quite possibly lose, their lives in a war. States determine,
through tax policy, how much wealth one gets to keep from one’s work. States can say
who can marry whom, how long people must go to school, what the interest rate is on
credit cards and on money borrowed to pay tuition or to buy a house, who can enter the
state and who can leave it (through such things as issuing passports and controlling bor-
ders), and on what basis a person can be put in prison.

We may want to argue that health care is a pretty
important issue for each of us. But even for a
relatively minor ailment, such as a toothache, we
would seek an expert—a dentist—rather than
assuming that any person chosen at random
would do just as well. It is probably pretty clear,
however, that the kinds of decisions states make
are considerably more important, significant, and
far-ranging and that they affect the lives of many
more people—perhaps all the people in that
state—compared to getting one’s car fixed, learn-
ing to play the piano, or even treating a toothache.

This is the source of Plato’s complaint. We seek
experts for relatively insignificant things, while
everyone gets a say in making decisions that are
profoundly more important. Plato simply asks
this (although he doesn’t say it quite like this): You
require an expert to install new windows, but you
let everyone and anyone have a say on whether
your children may be sent to war? This seems, to
Plato, to be an odd contrast. If we want an expert
for relatively unimportant things, shouldn’t we
want experts for the most important things?

Matt Kenyon/Ikon Images/Photolibrary

One of Plato’s other concerns about
democracy is “tyranny of the major-
ity,” in which the opinion of many
ends up marginalizing or oppressing a
minority.

Thinkstock

You likely wouldn’t want just anyone
working on your car; you’d want an
expert. Plato suggests we should have
the same expectation for government.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

Democracy, in Plato’s view, is a view that actively ignores experts and leaves such impor-
tant matters to those who not only are not experts but may not understand the issues, or
worse, may not really even care about them. Is this a good method for a state to follow?

Plato registers two other substantial complaints against democracy, both of which have
been developed by later thinkers. First, as we saw a bit earlier, democracies are often
run by majority rule. This can often lead to the result that minorities—whether based on
race, class, gender, religion, ethnicity, or other things—are easily overwhelmed, and their
rights not protected. In a mostly white Christian community, for instance, it may be easy
to ignore, or even oppress, an African American or a Jew (and, presumably, the prob-
lem would be worse if one is both). This result is often referred to as the “tyranny of the
majority” and has been discussed extensively, both by those criticizing democracy (such
as Nietzsche) and those defending democracy (such as John Stuart Mill). Plato tends to
be somewhat of an elitist in his thinking, but others have been concerned that democracy
seems to work best if its members are informed on the issues, and thus can make sound
decisions. Yet those in power within a democracy often see it to their advantage to keep
the citizens uninformed, and thus there is an incentive to distract the citizens. Whether it
is fashion, music, the latest electronic gadget, or the most popular TV show, some have
argued that these kinds of things may keep citizens entertained, but they also make it
much easier to prevent them from engaging in, and learning about, the decisions that
affect them. One way of making the point is to ask yourself, your friends, and your fam-
ily which has a bigger effect on their lives: the interest rate on a credit card or home loan,
or who their favorite is on American Idol. It seems safe to assume that most of us may be
much more familiar with American Idol but recognize that interest rates and other such
things—admittedly less entertaining—may play a much more important role in the qual-
ity of our lives.

This is a difficult challenge to democratic theory, but most responses revolve around the
idea that a successful democracy, one that thrives and does the best job of promoting lib-
erty and protecting rights, must do its best to inform its citizens and help citizens keep
themselves informed. This often means insisting, in a well-run democracy, on the impor-
tance of a good education for its members, and a commitment to learning and remaining
informed throughout one’s life. The more one knows, in other words, the better decisions
one makes. But this requires a good bit of discipline on the part of citizens and requires
that those same citizens be suspicious, at least to some extent, of both those things that may
be used to distract them and the politicians whose power depends on those distractions.

Rawls’s Conception of Fairness

Earlier, in our discussion of tolerance and diversity, we mentioned the views of the influ-
ential political philosopher John Rawls and a famous thought-experiment he described.
Here we will return to that thought-experiment and look at it a bit more fully in order to
see why Rawls thinks our fundamental notion of “justice” should be understood in terms
of fairness. Rawls’s approach is also very useful in looking at all sorts of ethical and politi-
cal issues, to see if we really think our policies and the way we treat others are fair. In this
way, we can use Rawls’s extremely influential argument to examine critically our own
ethical intuitions.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

Social Contract
Rawl’s work is part of what is known as the
“Social Contract” tradition: a situation in which
people come together to agree on the principles
(and laws) under which they will all live. No one
in this tradition, by the way, really thinks this
actually happened; it is just a way to set up a
situation in order to examine what kind of prin-
ciples and laws people would agree on in order
to live in some kind of society and in some kind
of peace. Rawls’s “twist” on the Social Contract
is that those signing it, and deciding on the laws
they wish to have in the future society they
design, don’t know what kind of person they
will be. (This is called by Rawls the “original
position,” which occurs behind a veil of igno-
rance: We are ignorant about what kind of spe-
cific person we might be in this future society.)

They could be of any race, ethnic group, or religion; they could be male or female; They
could be heterosexual or homosexual. They could be wealthy or very poor; they could
be physically or mentally challenged, in terms of, for instance, being visually impaired
or with a relatively low IQ. This is crucial for Rawls’s argument: In his view, we will
regard things as fair if we see that anyone, regardless of what kind of person he or she
is, would be treated fairly (Rawls, 1971).

There are a number of other technical points in setting up this thought-experiment,
some of which should at least be mentioned. Those designing the future society know
general things about human nature, and know that people want to be as well off as they
can be; that is, people want to “maximize their utility.” The principles chosen may be
pretty abstract, but everyone must consent to them; in other words, the agreement must
be unanimous. Furthermore, those designing the society’s principles agree to live by
those principles in perpetuity—in other words, if you agree to a set of rules but find out
that your situation in that society means you will be treated quite badly (or unfairly),
you can’t assume the rules will be changed. With these conditions in place, and behind
the veil of ignorance, everyone discusses what principles will be fair (and thus accepted)
and what principles will be unfair (and thus rejected). This process, which we saw ear-
lier tries to reach a reflective equilibrium among all those taking part, should—if Rawls
is right—help us identify those rules, principles, and laws that are fair. If they are fair,
then they are fundamental to what we think a just society should use to structure its
system of justice.

This may still seem pretty abstract, and the principles Rawls himself describes are very
general and very abstract. A few examples of Rawls’s principles are given here:

Each person is to have an equal right to the most extensive total system of
equal basic liberties compatible with a similar system of liberty for all.

Social and economic inequalities are to be arranged so that they are to be of
greatest benefit to the least-advantaged members of society.

Radius Images/Photolibrary

John Rawls’s Social Contract is illustra-
tive rather than historical, describing
a hypothetical situation in which indi-
viduals come together and agree on a
set of principles and rules they will all
live by.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

But we can make this quite a bit more concrete by looking at a very specific kind of law—
much more specific than Rawls would be happy with!—and see how this process might
work. Peter proposes that people should be paid the same wages for doing the same work;
Henry thinks, rather, that men should be paid more because a woman might become preg-
nant and leave her job; thus, any training costs and other investment in the worker are
lost. After much discussion and argument, Peter and Henry conclude that equal work for
equal pay would be more just, for it would be unfair to “punish” women simply because
they might become pregnant. Henry, by the way,
finds it most convincing once he realizes that,
behind the veil of ignorance, he doesn’t know
whether, in the society he is helping to design, he
might be a woman and thus might become preg-
nant. When looked at that way, Henry decides it
would be much more fair, and much more just, to
adopt the principle “equal pay for equal work.”

Rawls has been sharply criticized, and an enor-
mous discussion of his work has taken place—
and continues—in philosophy, political science,
economics, and other fields. He is frequently
referred to as the most influential political phi-
losopher of the 20th century. It is just one sign
of this influence that he has been attacked by so
many different writers, and for so many different
reasons: It is not difficult to find him harshly criti-
cized for being too conservative, and it is easy to
find him criticized, just as harshly, for being too
liberal! But for our purposes, we can simply use
his basic approach to help us clarify our concep-
tions of fairness and justice. As may be pretty obvious, we can see how deeply influenced
Rawls was by the views of Immanuel Kant, but also by the general ethical position we’ve
discussed, deontology. In some ways, Rawls gives us a different perspective with which
to apply the Golden Rule, which may well be the driving idea behind his theory of justice
as fairness. Ultimately, don’t we want society to treat people fairly because we want to be
treated fairly? To ensure that people are treated fairly, and are not oppressed, discrimi-
nated against, or imprisoned on the basis of the specific kind of person we are, then we
should insist that society’s rules treat people fairly, regardless of such things as race, class,
and gender. One good way to think about Rawls’s argument is to consider rules that our
own society has adopted and to decide whether you think you would regard those rules
as fair if you were quite different: if you were, for instance, in a different ethnic group, of
a different religion (or had no religion), or of a different gender. If you determine that they
are not fair, does that mean such rules may need to be reconsidered, and possibly revised?

Libertarianism and Its Critics

John Rawls’s focus was on what rules and principles a relatively large group of people
would be willing to give their unanimous consent to in designing a society within which
they would live. In a basic sense, then, he focuses on the community, what rules a given

Heide Benser/Cusp/Photolibrary

John Rawls’s veil of ignorance means
you have to design a society and its
rules without knowing who you’ll be
or what role you’ll play in that society.
In this, the Golden Rule comes into
play: You would theoretically design
a society that treats everyone as fairly
as possible to ensure you would be
treated well no matter what.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

community should adopt, and how those rules will maximize the happiness or utility
for everyone in the community. In contrast, a popular and influential view, contrasting
sharply with both Rawls’s approach and his results, emphasizes the individual, specifi-
cally individual rights and freedoms. The view has a number of different versions and
interpretations (including “right” and “left” versions); however, we will refer to it in gen-
eral as libertarianism.

The Minimal State
A number of writers have been associated with
libertarianism: John Locke and Friedrich von
Hayek are often identified as providing important
arguments for it; Ayn Rand is a very well-known
author regarded as advocating the view. Robert
Nozick’s 1974 book Anarchy, State and Utopia is a
rigorous and influential defense of philosophical
libertarianism, and we will use his account, for
the most part. Many complex arguments persist,
even about the term itself, that we won’t go into
here. We will adopt this general idea that seems
to be at the basis of libertarianism: Libertarian-
ism seeks to maximize individual freedoms and
minimize governmental interference in the lives
of citizens. Nozick defends this idea in terms
of a minimal state that is often compared to a
“night watchman”: a state that protects citizens
against violence and theft, enforces contracts, and
maintains borders. That’s about it. Thus, Nozick
regards as theft any tax imposed upon a citizen
to pay for something beyond these state func-
tions. So, for instance, if I’m forced to pay taxes
for public schools—that is, I don’t volunteer my
share—then this, according to Nozick, is a version

of slavery. His argument is simple: I work for wages, and if those wages are taken from
me, under threat of prison (or a fine, which would take even more money from me), then
I’m working for someone on an involuntary basis. Being forced to work for no pay (and if
my pay is taken away from me, that amounts to the same thing) is no different than slav-
ery. Thus, for Nozick, any payment that is taken from me involuntarily, beyond the needs
of the minimal state, imposes conditions of slavery on citizens. Since we regard slavery
as wrong, anything beyond the minimal state is unjust. The basic idea of rights being
appealed to here is similar to that of John Locke’s notion of “self-ownership”: Individual
human beings “own” themselves. This includes their bodies, skills, talents, and their abil-
ity to work, as well as what those talents and that work produce. To take away the product
of those talents and that work is a form of theft, on the part of the government, and vio-
lates the rights of the individual to self-ownership.

Just as we saw with John Rawls, Nozick’s work has generated a great deal of controversy,
and he also has been accused of being too “conservative” (in rejecting, for instance, most
taxes and promoting a community of greedy competitive individuals) and as being too

Brand X Pictures/Thinkstock

Robert Nozick’s philosophical liber-
tarianism advocates a minimal state
that is like a night watchman: The state
protects citizens, enforces contracts,
and maintains borders, but otherwise it
does not interfere in its citizens’ lives.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

“liberal” (for defending a state that would resemble anarchy, not a state that would be
recognized as a state). Again, as with Rawls, Nozick’s argument is very sophisticated
and rigorous, and has been very influential. As we did with Rawls, we will use a simple
example to try to bring out what seems to be at stake in Nozick’s defense of libertarianism.

Doug and Darren are born on the same day, in the same town, but under very different
circumstances. Doug is born to an extremely wealthy family. He has the best medical care
and nutrition available; he goes to the best schools, travels widely, goes to expensive sum-
mer camps, and takes music lessons. Darren, on the other hand, is born to a single mother
who has problems with drugs and alcohol; he rarely goes to the doctor, and his diet is
pretty unhealthful. He goes to a grossly underfunded public school, lives in a part of town
with a great deal of gang activity, and has never been outside of his hometown.

Doug and Darren are both good students and take advantage of all the opportunities their
schools offer. Doug’s school offers advanced courses in math and science and a semester
abroad in France and has the newest computers, textbooks, and sports facilities. Darren’s
school offers very few advanced courses and very few extracurricular activities; the text-
books are out of date, as are the few computers, and the sports facilities are inadequate.
Both make straight A’s throughout high school, have as many extracurricular activities as
possible, and have equivalently good scores on their standardized entrance exams. Both
apply to a very selective and prestigious school, a school Doug’s parents both attended
and to which they have donated large sums of money. Doug is accepted, and Darren is
rejected. Darren goes to a good, not a great, school and finds a good, but not great, job.
Doug attends the prestigious school, meets many students with important business con-
nections, and through those contacts finds a job that pays approximately 25 times what
Darren’s job pays.

Both Doug and Darren have worked equally hard, and both have taken advantage of their
opportunities. But because Doug’s situation had a number of built-in advantages, he was
able to come out pretty far ahead and seems in a position to then provide his own children
with advantages that Darren may not be able to. Darren’s children may be better off than
Darren was, but Doug’s children will still be far ahead in terms of the advantages and
opportunities they receive.

Inheritance
This raises a question that is somewhat of a challenge for the libertarian to resolve and
can be put in more general terms of how one should treat inheritance. On the one hand,
people who work very hard and amass a great deal of wealth should be able, according
to the libertarian, to do with that wealth whatever they want, without any government
interference (such as an inheritance tax). This is said to provide an incentive to work hard,
in that you will be able, according to a libertarian view, to keep as much as possible of
what you earn. The more you earn, the more you get to keep, and this is a good reason to
work hard and to produce something of use to society. According to this view, then, the
inheritance tax would be 0%—nothing.

On the other hand, someone who inherits a great deal of wealth doesn’t seem to have
“deserved” that wealth. (Some cynics refer to this as winning the “birth lottery.”) If we can
assume that great wealth, everything else being equal, provides significant advantages,

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

and if those advantages accrue over generations,
then won’t inequality and unfairness arise under
the libertarian inheritance tax policy? Isn’t this
not just providing a substantial reward to some-
one who hasn’t done anything to deserve it, but
also passing those advantages down, across gen-
erations, to those who also didn’t do anything
to deserve it? Libertarians argue that one of the
great strengths of its position is to reward those
who work hard and produce things of great value
to the society in which they live; yet someone
who inherits a great deal of wealth may not have
worked at all, let alone worked very hard!

This is not to say that someone can’t overcome
whatever disadvantages he or she confronts in
life; nor is it to say that someone can’t squander
all the many advantages he or she has been given.

Rather, it is more a question of fairness. To give a standard, if a bit oversimplified, exam-
ple, imagine Margaret and Grace frequently race against each other in the 100-meter dash.
Margaret always has to start at the traditional starting line; Grace always gets a 20-meter
head start. Both are good runners, and Margaret may, on occasion, beat Grace to the finish
line. But anytime she does so, she has to expend a great deal more effort than Grace, for
Grace has a built-in advantage. The question isn’t whether Margaret can win, or whether
Grace can lose; the question is whether you would, in general, regard this as a fair race.

Libertarianism is a political view that is very
attractive to many people, for its insistence on the
importance of the individual, its respect for human
liberty, and its advocacy of a minimal state that
interferes as little as possible in the lives of its citi-
zens. But, as we have seen, its critics have objected
to the kind of society it describes, where built-in
advantages—inheritance being one example—can
prevent others from having equal opportunities
to develop their talents. For instance, what if I’m
born bigger and stronger than everyone else: Do
I get to use these gifts however I want, say, to put
myself in front of the line at the movies? To prevent
me from doing so, without my consent, seems to
be a restraint on my liberty, but not to prevent me
from doing so seems to give me an unfair advan-

tage (and, again, one I didn’t really do anything to deserve). Finally, what kind of values
would such a society reflect, in terms of cooperation? Are there times when “forced” coop-
eration—support for public parks, or libraries, or art, or even roads, bridges, and highways
(what economists call “public goods”)—might well make the community better off, even
though people might generally be unwilling to voluntarily make the required contribu-
tions? One should consider, then, when evaluating libertarianism, what such a libertarian
society would look like and determine what advantages and disadvantages there would
be without the occasional “coerced” community-wide behavior.

Andersen Ross/Blend Images/Photolibrary

One objection to libertarianism is that
some “coerced” contributions go to
good things, such as public services
and libraries.

Sieffried Steinach/Photolibrary

One objection to libertarianism is that
it doesn’t take into account the built-in
advantages that allow some to more
readily develop their talent than oth-
ers. Some would say this encourages
unfairness and inequality.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

The Environment

As you have probably started to see, many issues
in ethics are also issues in politics: In other words,
many choices we make as individuals have sig-
nificant effects on our larger community. At the
same time, our community imposes restrictions
and laws that may limit our choices, often for
good reason, as insisting that everyone driving in
the same direction do so on the same side of the
road, or that everyone must stop at red lights.

As we have also begun to see, determining
whether or not a specific issue is really an issue
of individual ethics, or really an issue of social
or political ethics, is not always that easy to do.
But one set of issues, now studied under the term
“environmental ethics,” is pretty clearly some-
thing that affects very large numbers of people. In
debates over such things as climate change, it is
clear that this issue could very well affect every-
one on the planet.

The relationship between human beings and the environment has been discussed by
many philosophers, of course, and is a part of many religious traditions. Thus, Aristotle
indicates that all things are made by nature for human beings; that is, the value things
have is the value they can produce for human beings. Genesis 1:26 states, “And God said,
Let us make man in our image, after our like-
ness: and let them have dominion over the fish
of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over
the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every
creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.”
Some have interpreted this notion of “dominion”
as indicating that human beings are not just mas-
ters of the earth, but that they can do with it what
they please.

This view of the environment, and nature, sees
the value of nature as providing other goods or
values; nature serves as an instrument to achieve
those other goals, and is therefore said to possess
“instrumental value.” Thus, just as a spoon may
only have instrumental value in allowing me to
achieve my goal of eating, the group of plants
that produces digitalis may be seen as having
instrumental value for the medicinal uses digi-
talis can provide for heart patients and others.
Of course, if people get pleasure and enjoyment
from something beautiful, that is also valuable,
and so one would be able to say that, for instance,

Pixtal Images/Photolibrary

Some feel that the environment pos-
sesses purely instrumental value,
meaning that its value comes from
what people can obtain from it: food,
fuel, minerals, medicine, pleasure, and
so on.

Ron Chapple Stock/Photolibrary

In environmental ethics, the decisions
we and those in other countries make
clearly affect very large numbers of
people.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

a particularly vibrant sunset has instrumental
value in providing the pleasure human beings get
from experiencing such a sunset.

More recently, however, many environmental eth-
icists have argued that things other than human
beings have intrinsic value; that is, have value in
themselves, not for some other purpose. This view
rejects the assumption that only human beings
possess this intrinsic value and argues that other
things have a right to exist: not because of some
human purpose they serve but simply because
they are part of nature and the universe. This, of
course, is a controversial view for many, and some
deny that there even is such a thing as intrinsic
value at all. But the view is, in fact, quite old. Many
religious traditions regard the earth as a sacred
gift that must be cared for and protected. This
seems to be the idea expressed in Ezekiel 34:18:
“Seemeth it a small thing unto you to have eaten
up the good pasture, but ye must tread down
with your feet the residue of your pastures? and
to have drunk of the deep waters, but ye must foul
the residue with your feet?” Many Native Ameri-
can traditions have also regarded the relationship
between people and their environment as sacred;
an ancient Native American proverb states:

Treat the earth well.
It was not given to you by your parents,
it was loaned to you by your children.
We do not inherit the Earth from our Ancestors,
we borrow it from our Children.

Thus, we have two quite distinct ways of looking at the relationship between human
beings and their environment. One regards the environment as possessing solely instru-
mental value (although this does not necessarily endorse the idea of using it however one
pleases); the other regards the environment as possessing intrinsic value, thus preventing
it from being treated simply instrumentally but requiring respect for the intrinsic value it
possesses. Of course, there are many different interpretations of each of these positions, as
well as positions that seek some degree of compromise between them, or a combination
of the two views.

Environmental ethics has become a very busy field of study for philosophers and oth-
ers, and it is not unusual to see entire courses devoted to it. Here we have just tried to
sketch two different perspectives on the general way human beings perceive their envi-
ronment, and we can perhaps contrast the two perspectives a bit more clearly with a
specific example.

Priscilla Connell/Index Stock Imagery/Photolibrary

Some feel that the environment has
intrinsic value, meaning that nature
has value in and of itself, outside of
what it gives to humans. This is a
sphinx moth larva.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

Ethics of Extinction
Consider the dwarf wedge mussel, an aquatic mollusk found exclusively on the Atlantic
coast of North America. This mussel has apparently become extinct in Canada, and is
severely endangered in the United States. It has very little obvious use to human beings; it
doesn’t seem to provide any particularly essential medicinal value, isn’t eaten, and doesn’t
offer much in terms of aesthetic value or beauty to human observers since it spends most
of its time buried completely in the bottom of streams and rivers.

This mussel seems to be on its way to extinction. Whether we care or not, and if we do
how much we care, may well depend on whether it is regarded in terms of possess-
ing instrumental or intrinsic value. Those who see little use for it may not particularly
care if it becomes extinct, beyond some possible repercussions in the rest of the food
chain. Thus, it may be determined that the mus-
sel plays a crucial role in an ecosystem that pro-
duces some other thing (say, some species of fish)
that humans desire; in that case, it would have
instrumental value in making that fish available.
Or perhaps it prevents another invasive species
from taking over an ecosystem in such a way
that the fish would be eliminated. These would
then be reasons to make some effort to prevent
the mussel’s extinction, from the instrumental-
ist perspective. Some instrumentalists tend to err
on the side of caution in these cases, recognizing
that human beings may not always be wholly
aware of what value a given organism might
have, something that could well be discovered
in the future.

The perspective of those who see the mussel as
having intrinsic value do not need to specify
some value or product it offers human beings: Its
existence, as part of a environmental sub-system,
gives it intrinsic value. We should then do what
is reasonable to protect the mussel and prevent
its extinction, as indicative of our respect for the earth in general, and this little part of
it specifically. To some, of course, it seems silly to protect such an odd little critter as the
dwarf wedge mussel; on the other hand, it might be pointed out that one of the major
threats to the dwarf wedge mussel is chemical runoff from golf courses. Those arguing
to protect the mussel may well ask whether, from a religious or more general ethical
perspective, we are genuine stewards of an environment if we allow species to become
extinct in order to preserve the right to hit a small white ball relatively large distances
with the goal of placing it in a hole that is 4.25 inches in diameter.

These debates will continue, of course, and there are many other issues to consider, includ-
ing population growth, the economic and technological development of countries—such
as India and China—with enormous populations, and the difficulty in determining the
costs and benefits of specific economic and developmental policies. Human beings have
become considerably more aware that resources are not infinite, and the idea has become

DV/White/Photolibrary

The Connecticut River in New
Hampshire and Vermont is one of
the remaining habitats for the dwarf
wedge mussel, which is severely
endangered because of chemical runoff
from golf courses. How we feel about
this and other environmental issues
will depend on whether we think this
mussel has instrumental or intrinsic
value.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

more prominent among many environmental ethicists that we should realize we are
dependent on the earth, rather than simply seeing it as a source of riches to exploit and
plunder. Some have used the idea of the earth as a “spaceship” on which human beings
are traveling, although one with 7 billion passengers! From that perspective, of course,
the earth looks more like a home to be cared for and treasured than a department store or
grocery store from which we take things without regard to the consequences of what we
take or how we take them.

The Personal and the Political

We began by looking at certain kinds of behavior—keeping promises, end-of-life issues,
even determining what to eat—that seem to be based on individual choices, affecting
solely the person making those choices and, perhaps, a few others. (Obviously enough, if
one breaks a promise, it affects the person to whom the promise was made.) We then pro-
ceeded to consider more general ethical issues, including Plato’s, Rawls’s, and Nozick’s
views of what makes a society just or fair. These issues clearly affect a great number of
people, if not entire communities. If a state, for instance, adopts a policy that discriminates
against a certain group, that will, of course, have an impact on the group discriminated
against. But it will also have an impact on those who may benefit, directly or indirectly,
from that discrimination. Here we will conclude our discussion of ethics with a look at
the distinction between the individual and society. As you may have already suspected,
drawing the line between those choices that affect only individuals and those choices that
affect society is not always particularly easy.

We can begin to see this by looking at the notion
of “victimless crimes.” A number of different
kinds of behavior have been described as the
kinds of things that may potentially harm the per-
son choosing to do them; the question is whether
the state, or society, has the right to prevent the
person from doing them anyway. A bit more pre-
cisely, victimless crimes (sometimes called con-
sensual crimes) are those activities that do not
physically harm a person or property or that were
entered into voluntarily (consensually) by those
participating in the activities but that are against
the laws of the community. Standard examples of
victimless crimes are using marijuana, failing to
wear seatbelts and motorcycle helmets, commit-
ting suicide and physician-assisted suicide, as
well as engaging in prostitution, sodomy, or bun-

gee jumping. Those who stress the minimal state and emphasize a libertarian approach
to what the state can and cannot prohibit have also suggested that such things as all drug
laws, pornography laws, curfews for teenagers, and even driver’s licenses go beyond the
legitimate scope of what government can legislate.

Victimless crimes can not only help bring into focus our understanding of what the
legitimate role of government is, and when government goes beyond that role, but also

iStockphoto/Thinkstock

Wearing a seatbelt is arguably your
decision alone because whatever hap-
pens to you as a result is your problem.
This is an example of a victimless
crime.

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CHAPTER 2Section 2.4 Social Issues in Ethics

demonstrate that society’s rules can change over time. For instance, the laws against sod-
omy—often cited as a victimless crime—were for many years on the books in many states
in the United States. Even though sodomy is a general term used to describe non-repro-
ductive sex acts—acts that cannot lead to reproduction—the sodomy laws were generally
enforced only against homosexuals. Such laws were ruled unconstitutional by the Supreme
Court in 2003, but they can still be found in the legal codes of many countries around the
world. Earlier, “sumptuary laws”—laws designed to prevent extravagant consumption—
could be found, such as the Massachusetts Bay Colony’s requirement that only people
of substantial wealth could wear lace, hatbands,
belts, or capes! Laws often prohibit activities that
are so common and so widely accepted in society
that they are ineffective in stopping the behavior
or can even make things worse. Many have argued
that the ban on alcohol, during the period in the
United States known as “Prohibition” (1919–1933),
was widely ignored and allowed criminals to take
advantage of the laws to develop powerful crimi-
nal organizations. If this objection is correct, then
banning a victimless crime generated more “vic-
tims” than the activity being banned would have
caused! Thus, at a certain point, states will deter-
mine that the laws either cannot be or will not be
enforced and will eliminate the laws in question.

From a different perspective, however, it has been
argued that many such victimless crimes cannot be
removed from a social context. Thus, my next-door
neighbor Al, who enjoys his occasional marijuana,
seems to be harming no one but himself (if he is
even doing that), although he is violating the law.
Those defending this law might point to the fact that Al, by purchasing marijuana, is in his
small way supporting a network that makes the illegal drug trade possible. Al, and every-
one else who violates the laws against possession of marijuana, thus provides financial sup-
port for drug cartels and criminals, who have exerted significant influence by corrupting
governments and by assassinating police officers, politicians, and judges. Looked at from
this perspective we may want to ask if what Al is doing is, in fact, a victimless crime, or
if, rather, the larger context through which he buys marijuana creates a number of victims
who, clearly enough, suffer a great deal harm and clearly do so without their consent!

Prostitution is another activity, one found in almost every society, that is illegal in some
countries (such as the United States, except in a small part of Nevada) and legal in many
other countries. Two distinct issues arise here: whether engaging, as a prostitute or a cus-
tomer, should be illegal and whether the victims—if there are victims—are the result of
the activity or of the activity being illegal. The libertarian perspective argues that prosti-
tution simply involves a voluntary, consensual agreement between two adults and that
the government has no legitimate role to interfere in this exchange. Those who argue in
favor of prostitution being illegal point to a wide variety of dangers involved for the pros-
titute—from customers and those who usually control the prostitute (sometimes called a
manager or, less delicately, a pimp)—including rape and battering. They also point to an

Shmuel Thaler/Index Stock Imagery RF/Photolibrary

Money and marijuana seized in a raid.
Some would argue that a little pot for
recreation or to alleviate pain is harm-
less, but others would say it’s tough to
ignore the social context: the prevalent
illegal drug trade.

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CHAPTER 2Some Final Questions

economic context for many who enter prostitution that makes it an economic necessity,
and thus shouldn’t be regarded as in any significant way as “voluntary.” Furthermore,
there is a good deal of human trafficking, generally of impoverished and desperate young
women, sold against their will into prostitution. Again, how we describe the situation
may determine our moral evaluation of it.

As we have seen, some activities that were once illegal have become legal, or at least “de-
criminalized,” presumably due to the changing standards within one’s society. Perhaps
this means, as the saying goes, that “you can’t legislate morality,” that is, that the state
simply is ineffective in legislating ethical choices. Of course, we legislate morality all the
time. Assuming murder is wrong, a society legislates against it. People still murder each
other, unfortunately, but no one seems to respond to that fact by recommending we get rid
of laws that make murder illegal. Again, ethics provides some guidance here, but it offers
no clear-cut set of rules to allow us to discover an answer on which everyone will agree.
One of the things ethics can help clarify is how we determine the relationship between
the individual citizen and the state in which that citizen lives. Is it a minimal, libertarian
state? Or is it a state that exerts its power to ensure that all its members are treated fairly
and given equal access to opportunity? How we answer that question will play an impor-
tant role in how we look at the laws, rules, and even informal policies a society will adopt.
That answer will, in turn, help us evaluate the various activities people, and communities,
engage in when deciding whether they should be regarded as moral or not.

What We Have Learned
• Utilitarianism, deontology, and virtue ethics have all been developed into sophis-

ticated theories to help clarify how we can solve moral problems.
• Some philosophers have proposed theories, such as egoism and relativism, to

challenge in a very general way the approach to ethics adopted by those tradi-
tional theories.

• All of us confront ethical issues in our lives, from deciding whether we have to
wear seatbelts to determining our relationship to the environment. Ethics can
help us evaluate our responses to a wide range of ethical challenges.

Some Final Questions
1. Identify one of the Aristotelian virtues you think is important for a moral person

to have. Describe what it would be like to have too much of this virtue, and what
it would be like to have too little of this virtue.

2. Relativism is a very popular view. Describe a situation where you think rela-
tivism might not provide the best response, and say why. If you can’t do that,
explain why that means that, ultimately, nothing can be called wrong, no matter
how evil it may appear.

3. Explain what kind of responsibilities the current generation has, if any, to future
generations, in terms of treating the environment well. If you think the current
generation has no such obligations, discuss whether the generation before you
should have had such an obligation and what the implications are if they did not.

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CHAPTER 2Some Final Questions

Web Links

Relativism
An excellent, rigorous, and detailed discussion about relativism that is well worth the
effort:

http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/relativism/

Psychological and Ethical Egoism
A good development of issues surrounding various versions of egoism can be found here:

http://instruct.westvalley.edu/lafave/Egoism.html

Plato on Democracy
A brief but accurate summary of Plato’s criticism of democracy:

http://paradiso108.newsvine.com/_news/2008/02/16/1305759-platos-criticisms-of
-democracy

Applied Ethics
A good, thorough overview of the many topics to which one can apply ethical theory:

http://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Applied_ethics

mos66103_02_ch02_031-094.indd 93 11/30/10 4:54 PM

http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/relativism/

http://instruct.westvalley.edu/lafave/Egoism.html

http://paradiso108.newsvine.com/_news/2008/02/16/1305759-platos-criticisms-of-democracy

http://paradiso108.newsvine.com/_news/2008/02/16/1305759-platos-criticisms-of-democracy

http://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Applied_ethics

mos66103_02_ch02_031-094.indd 94 11/30/10 4:54 PM

LWA-Dann Tardif/Photolibrary3

The Theory of Knowledge

• Philosophy can help us become more aware of the differ-
ence between claiming to know something and showing
that we know something.

• Skepticism poses a threat to many of our knowledge
claims, and we have an obligation to meet that skeptical
challenge.

• Our knowledge claims have important implications for a
wide range of questions, including those about science
and religion.

What We Will Discover

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CHAPTER 3Section

3.1 How Does One Know Something?

3.1 How Does One Know Something?

Epistemology—the theory of knowledge—looks at the kinds of things we want to say we “know.” Here we will begin from the perspective of a commonsense view and then slowly begin to introduce some of the perspectives and terminology philoso-
phers have developed to address the problem of knowledge.

Common Sense and Knowledge

Imagine you run into an old friend of yours at the grocery store, and she greets you by
saying, “Whaddya know?” After some small talk, you drive home and decide to take her
question seriously: what do you know? You sit down and start making a list.

After a couple of hours, you’ve filled up page after page of things you know. Consider
what such a list might look like:

I know . . .

How to change the oil in my car

7 1 5 5 12

Little Rock is the capital of Arkansas

Susan

If an object changes motion, some force has acted upon it.

The shortest distance between two points is a straight line.

A fool and his money are soon parted.

The sun rises in the east.

If Chicago is north of Dallas, and Dallas is north of Houston, Chicago is north
of Houston.

You quickly realize that this list will be impossible to complete; just listing the simple
mathematical truths of arithmetic will, by itself, result in an infinite number of entries.
Listing the various facts about the world you know, including the laws of science, and
all of the various other things—people you know, things you know how to do—makes
it clear such a list will be endless. (Which is now another thing you know.) Rather than
listing individual claims, then, perhaps certain differences among the kinds of knowledge
claims can be given. In addition to mathematical claims, there are scientific claims, claims
about certain skills you possess, geographical claims, and even an old proverb. Or per-
haps you choose to organize your knowledge claims in terms of how you come to know
them, whether through observation or otherwise. Philosophers call this kind of inquiry
epistemology.

Epistemology, or the study of knowledge, investigates what we know, how we know it,
and what kind of confidence we can have in our knowledge claims. This is one of the
areas of philosophy in which things that seem obvious at first become more and more
complicated the closer we look at them. But we can start by looking at what many people

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.1 How Does One Know Something?

might say about a specific knowledge claim, and
contrast their answers with some of the results
that philosophers have offered. We will, in other
words, begin with what one might call a naïve or
commonsense view. By the time we conclude our
look at epistemology, we will see that this view
has a lot going for it, but can also lead us astray.
As always, we will discover that our answers will
lead to new questions.

Tommy is a 10-year-old boy; he is asked by
our philosopher, “How do you know the sky
is blue?” Tommy’s reaction is one philosophers
often receive, giving the philosopher a look indi-
cating that the question is pretty stupid. He then
humors the philosopher, and responds, “Because
it looks blue.” But Tommy knows that the sky
sometimes is not blue; he also knows that some-
times his eyesight has fooled him. Even though
Tommy may represent the commonsense view,
he also realizes that observational reports aren’t
always completely reliable, as he knows from
having seen what appears to be water at the end
of the highway on a hot day, which isn’t really
water. While we, just as Tommy does, rely on our
senses—such as the traditional seeing, hearing,
tasting, smelling, and touching—for a great deal
of the information we have about the world, we
also recognize that things may not always be as
they seem.

Tommy’s confident belief is expressed in terms of
what we will call propositional knowledge. So
when he says, “I know that the sky is blue,” he
asserts a proposition, or a sentence, that indicates
a fact of some sort. Such claims don’t have to be
based on the senses, of course; a simple mathemat-
ical claim, such as “Triangles have three sides,” or
the kind of truth philosophers call analytic, such
as “All bachelors are unmarried males,” are also
examples of propositional knowledge. We may
come to know these truths in different ways, but
the way they are asserted—using indicative or
declarative sentences—shows why they are considered examples of propositional knowl-
edge. Perhaps the easiest way of seeing this is to contrast propositional knowledge with
other kinds of knowledge claims. One might say, “I know how to make scrambled eggs”
or “I know how to fix motorcycles”: these might be called examples of procedural knowl-
edge. Propositional knowledge is sometimes referred to as “knowing that,” whereas pro-
cedural or descriptive knowledge is referred to as “knowing how.” We might contrast both
of these with what is called knowledge by acquaintance. When we assert such things as

Patrick Renice/Photononstop/Photolibrary

Skills that follow a specific process,
such as changing a tire, are applied
through procedural knowledge.

Radius Images/Photolibrary

Observational reports aren’t always
completely reliable. Our eyes may
see water in the distance on a hot
afternoon, but through experience we
understand this is merely a mirage
caused by a heat haze effect.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.1 How Does One Know Something?

“I know London well” or “I know Mary,” we are saying we know London or Mary in a
way differently than we know that something is the case or how to do something.

These are the kinds of things epistemologists investigate. The epistemologist wants to find
out if we can discover when these kinds of reports are reliable, when (and how) we can
use them to discover the truth about things, and if we need to add to, or supplement, these
sensory reports to give an improved account of our knowledge. This will be tricky enough
to do for propositional knowledge, so that will be our focus here.

Sophisticated Empiricism

Our representative of the commonsense view, Tommy, decides to go home and ask his
mother why she thinks that—or how she knows that—the sky is blue. Tommy’s mother
is a physician and has a considerably more complex account, based on her understand-
ing of the human eye, the human brain, and how humans visually perceive things. She
tells Tommy that it is complicated, but that light is a wave of energy, and that what

we see depends on how the energy of that light
is absorbed by the atmosphere and what part of
that light human beings can see. Light itself is
made up of a range of colors, from red to violet;
the atmosphere “scatters” the blue light more
than the other colors, and that’s what we see on
a sunny day. This light wave strikes the retina
of the human eye and is then transmitted to the
brain through the optic nerve. The brain then
takes this information and allows us to decode it
in such a way that we see.

Tommy’s not sure he understands this explana-
tion—in fact, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t under-
stand it—but he has a more general question.
This is a very complicated and technical sound-
ing theory about how vision works, provided to
us by science; but why should we believe what
scientists tell us? After all, scientists themselves

disagree with each other, so we can’t simply accept the argument that if a scientist makes
a claim that claim is true. Furthermore, scientific claims in the past have turned out to be
incorrect. Even Aristotle, one of the greatest scientists of all time, was certain that the earth
was at the center of the universe. Later, of course, was it discovered that what we call the
solar system is, in fact, a small part of an enormous galaxy, tucked away in a corner of the
cosmos containing an untold number of other galaxies.

The lesson we should draw from this is not to discount the discoveries of science,
of course. Science has improved our lives in a vast number of ways. (Smallpox, for
instance, is estimated to have killed between 300 million and 500 million people in just
the 20th century, but it has now been eliminated as a threat.) Rather, we should see
that even though common sense may bring with it certain problems, we don’t get rid
of those problems simply by constructing a more elaborate theory. We need to show

Stockbroker/Photolibrary

Our sense of vision simply presents
information to our brain so that we can
understand it. When light strikes the
human eye, the waves are transmitted
to the brain through the optic nerve.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.1 How Does One Know Something?

why a theory is correct, or at least better than
other competing theories. That means, for the
epistemologist specifically, we need not only to
give a good, persuasive explanation of how we
know things, but we need to be able to defend
that explanation by arguing for it, or justifying it.
Here we can see what many regard as the fun-
damental way philosophy operates: A theory
is put forth, others criticize it, and those criti-
cisms are then discussed. If the criticism is good,
the theory is revised, or even discarded; often
another theory is put in its place. The history of
these battles is one way of seeing the history of
philosophy; as we will discover in this chapter,
looking at specific battles over how we know
things—and even if we know things—can allow
us to see this history through a very specific set
of questions.

It should be fairly clear that what both the com-
monsense view of Tommy and the more sophis-
ticated view of his mother have in common is
that both views regard our senses as being of
fundamental importance in understanding the
world and understanding how we come to
know that world. This view, which is and has
been widely accepted, is known as empiricism.
Although empiricism itself has many different
versions, we will regard it simply as the theory
that our knowledge fundamentally, and ulti-
mately, arises from our senses and the experi-
ences that sensory information gives us. If we
want to know if the window has been closed,
we go look at it; if we want to know if the milk
has gone bad, we smell it; if we want to know if
a piano is in tune, we listen to it; if we want to
know the texture of a piece of cloth, we feel it;
if we want to know if the pie is cherry or rhu-
barb, we taste it. Obviously enough, we use our
senses in various combinations, and doing so
often gives us more confidence in making claims
based on our perceptions and observations. But,
as we will see, empiricism has itself been chal-
lenged. For instance, those who are regarded as adopting the approach known as ratio-
nalism have argued that certain things, among them our knowledge of God and of
sophisticated mathematics, simply cannot be explained as originally arising from the
senses. Furthermore, epistemologists have always been confronted by skepticism, the
idea that we may not, or even cannot, really ever know anything at all.

Jim West/Photolibrary

Empiricism is the theory that our
knowledge arises from the experience
that sensory information gives us. To
check if a piano is in tune, for example,
you strike a key and listen for the
result.

Tetra Images/Photolibrary

Epistemologists must not only explain
why a theory works but justify its
implementation as well.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.1 How Does One Know Something?

Alternatives to Empiricism

Perhaps the greatest empiricist was the Scottish
philosopher David Hume (1711–1776). Hume
argued that, with the exception of some simple
parts of mathematics and logic, all our knowledge
comes from the senses. Thus, all non- mathematical
claims to know something are fundamentally
grounded in our sense perceptions, and the degree
of confidence we have in those claims is relative to
the amount, and quality, of evidence we possess.
Yet, as Hume himself recognizes, because these
kinds of claims are based only on past experience,
they can never be established with certainty. To
take an extreme example, Hume, in order to be
consistent, has to claim that you can only have a
strong expectation that if you drop a bowling ball
on your foot, you will feel pain; it isn’t necessary
that you will. Even the laws of nature, such as
gravity, or the sun rising in the morning, are sim-
ply the kinds of things we have the greatest con-
fidence in. If you think it is implausible that you
only have a strong expectation that if you throw a
normal, uncooked egg at a brick wall that it will
break—that it doesn’t have to—you are in good
company. Both the rationalists and the later Ger-
man philosopher Immanuel Kant thought genu-
ine knowledge required something more than
being likely. We will see both of their approaches
in what follows.

Descartes and Rationalists
The rationalists did not believe that all our knowl-
edge comes from the senses. They argued, in dif-
ferent ways, that there were certain kinds of truths
that had to arise from some other source. It seems
obvious enough that if we want to know if clap-
ping our hands together will make a sound, we just
clap our hands together and listen. But, to consider
a couple of examples from the French mathemati-
cian and philosopher René Descartes (1596–1650),
what about our knowledge of God? Or our knowl-
edge of infinity? How can we “perceive” the cube
root of 27? Can we use our senses in these cases?
One might argue that we see the effects of God or
can use such things as railroad tracks disappear-
ing into the distance to represent the infinite, but
that wouldn’t really qualify as perceiving God

DEA Picture Library/Photolibrary

Immanuel Kant argued that certain
outcomes are seen to be true simply
because they are true, not just likely.

Fabian von Poser/Photolibrary

Even the empiricist David Hume
(1711–1776) argued that nearly all of
our knowledge comes from the senses.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.1 How Does One Know Something?

or perceiving the infinite. Very few philosophers,
including most of the empiricists, thought the
senses provided a way to find the cube root of 27.

Descartes, and other rationalists, came to some-
what similar conclusions but followed different
methods—we are born with certain ideas, such as
our ideas of God and the infinite. These are said
to be innate ideas. After a complex argument,
Descartes realizes that he has various ideas that
did not come from the senses, but about which
he can be absolutely certain: that he exists, that he
has a mind and a body, and that God exists. God,
as an all-good being, will not deceive Descartes;
therefore, there is a set of truths, which Descartes
calls “clear and distinct,” the absolute certainty of
which God will guarantee. These, for Descartes,
tend to be truths of mathematics and mathematical physics, but his more general view is
simply this: Empiricism cannot account for the certainty and necessity of certain kinds of
knowledge. Since these knowledge claims are, in Descartes’s view, absolutely certain, this
reveals that empiricism is inadequate to account for that certainty.

Immanuel Kant
The history of modern philosophy is often regarded as a debate between the rational-
ists (Descartes, Spinoza, and Leibniz) and the empiricists (Locke, Berkeley, Hume). This
period is often said to culminate in the philosophy of Immanuel Kant (1724–1804). Ratio-
nalism emphasizes the mind over the senses; empiricism emphasizes the senses over the
mind. Kant argued that both were correct in some ways, but deeply wrong in other ways.
Kant’s Critical Philosophy, then, adopts what he finds to be correct in both traditions,
while discarding what he regarded as the dogmatic excesses of each.

Kant’s arguments are notoriously complex and dif-
ficult, and continue to generate controversy today;
however, we can summarize his view in a way
that shows his contribution to epistemology. We
will look at this in a bit more detail later. Kant’s
view is that the human mind brings with it certain
fundamental concepts and forms that make it pos-
sible for us to receive various sensory perceptions
such as seeing or hearing something. The forms
he identifies are space and time; we will be able to
make judgments, or knowledge claims, about all
objects “in” time; all objects in what we have been
calling the external world will be in space. Further-
more, we use certain concepts—chief among them
are substance and causality—to make judgments
about these perceptions. Kant treats mathematical
claims in a slightly different way, but our ordinary

Bruce Leighty/Photolibrary

Kant also argued that we understand
certain objects to have a causal rela-
tionship. For example, one could
deduce that a bat striking a pitch trav-
eling 90 mph would result in a change
of direction for the ball.

Tim Ridley/Photolibrary

What about things that we cannot
perceive with our senses? Some phi-
losophers argue that we are born with
“innate ideas” about some concepts, such
as our ideas about God and the infinite.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.1 How Does One Know Something?

empirical judgments thus have to be made with a mind equipped with certain concepts to
make the content we gain through our senses understandable.

One way of seeing this is with an example. You go to a baseball game and see the pitcher
throw the ball, the batter hit it, and the ball travels 400 feet for a home run. There are uncount-
able sense perceptions involved here of the things we see, hear, and otherwise perceive. But
we see them in a temporal order: the ball is thrown before the batter hits the ball, and the
ball leaves the park after it is hit. We see them in space, where the pitcher is a certain distance
from the batter, the ball is, if only for an instant, right next to the bat; then the ball travels
through space to leave the stadium. The pitcher and batter, as well as all of the other objects
that make up the event (not just the ball and bat but the stadium itself, the spectators, and
so on) are enduring objects that persist in time, and interact with each other. As such, these
objects are substances; and they interact causally, in that we say the pitcher caused the ball to
move toward the batter, and the batter caused the ball to leave the stadium. For Kant, any
individual empirical report could be true or false; we could, for some reason, have misper-
ceived parts of the experience. But what has to be strictly necessary and absolutely universal
is that we bring with us space, time, and a small set of universal and necessary concepts.
Without these, all we would have, according to Kant, would be a string of individual sen-
sory reports, without having any way of interpreting them as knowledge claims.

As we can see, both the rationalists and Kant reject the kind of empiricism that can’t
account for some degree of necessity in our knowledge claims. While mathematical claims
are always a bit tricky to deal with, both the rationalists and Kant make strong arguments
that we need more certainty than the empiricists can provide, and both, in different ways,
try to provide that certainty. But, as we will now see, there are those who think the empiri-
cists offer far too much certainty, and that we can never be certain of anything. These are
philosophers known as skeptics.

Skepticism

Although “skeptic” originally meant someone
who simply looked at things, it later became a term
to describe a person who doubted various kinds
of claims. Skepticism plays an important role
in epistemology by forcing one to justify one’s
knowledge claims, admit one cannot justify them,
or completely give up one’s confidence in some or
all such claims. Skepticism has a long and inter-
esting history, but here we will focus on the part
of that history that has had the most influence on
contemporary epistemology.

Skepticism originally developed from Plato’s school,
the Academy, as a reaction to what some of its pro-
ponents saw as the acceptance of claims on the basis

of inadequate reasoning or evidence. After Plato’s death, his students took over, and Plato’s
own views were discussed, criticized, and developed. In this way, a school was developed
that, because it was associated with the Academy of Plato, became known as Academic

Sichtwandel/Photolibrary

Being skeptical is part of human
nature, as it is based on justifying one’s
knowledge claims.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.1 How Does One Know Something?

skepticism. Academic skeptics argued that it was
impossible to know anything with certainty, and
through various authors such as Cicero became
influential in insisting that knowledge claims
were always uncertain.

Naturally, there were philosophers who disagreed
with the Academic skeptics. Many, of course, wished
to defend the certainty and truth of knowledge
claims; others, however, thought the Academic
skeptics still claimed to be certain of too much.
These philosophers, known as Pyrrhonic skeptics,
argued that those who assert that they know noth-
ing were, in fact, claiming to know with certainty that
they know nothing. Through the development of
various sophisticated arguments, these radical Pyr-
rhonic skeptics tried to show that any claim could
be refuted. It is important to see that the Pyrrhonic
skeptics never asserted any claims themselves;
they always argued against claims made by oth-
ers. Perhaps even more important was the goal of
the Pyrrhonists: to quit deciding whether a claim
was true or not. Rather than trying to discover if
some knowledge claim was in fact true, or false,
they insisted that one should simply give up any
such attempts. If this goal of “giving up”—what
they called “bracketing” the hope of knowing any-
thing with certainty—could be achieved, one would discover a feeling of peace and tranquil-
ity. Philosophers have, of course, always been a bit skeptical; their first instinct, when told
something, is either to doubt it or to ask why it should be believed. As formal “schools,” or
approaches to philosophy, both Academic and Pyrrhonic skepticism were both very influ-
ential. But in 1562, a translation (into Latin) of a central text of skepticism, the Outlines of
Pyrrhonism of Sextus Empiricus, appeared, radically changing the history of epistemology,
particularly due to the work of the René Descartes, about whom we’ve already heard a bit.

Descartes lived in an era where much—maybe everything—that had seemed certain had
been called into doubt. As mentioned previously, the astronomical truths of Aristotle had
been disputed by Copernicus, Galileo, and Descartes himself, by insisting that the earth
revolved around the sun. The religious truths of the Roman Catholic Church, which had
dominated Europe for 1400 years, had been challenged by Martin Luther and the Refor-
mation, leading to the development of Protestantism. Now, with the doctrines of radical
skepticism available to Descartes, it was no longer clear what, if anything, could be relied
upon. Descartes found this situation intolerable, and thus set out to defeat radical skepti-
cism and put both scientific truths and religious truths on a firm foundation.

In trying to defeat skepticism, Descartes himself constructed a powerful version of skepti-
cism. He began by noting that “if a source of information could mislead or deceive us even
once, it cannot be trusted” (Descartes, 1984). We know, from mirages and optical illusions,
among other things, that our senses have deceived us. We also know that many things we

The Print Collector/Photolibrary

Academic skeptics such as Cicero
popularized the theory that knowledge
claims were always uncertain.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.1 How Does One Know Something?

think are real have also appeared to us in dreams; what if everything we see around us
is really a dream? If we adopt Descartes’s strategy, we might be wrong, and therefore we
shouldn’t trust these kinds of claims as reliable.

These were traditional skeptical arguments, but, as Descartes observes, even if our senses
deceive us, and even if we are dreaming, we still know that 2 + 2 = 4, and triangles have
three sides. Descartes, in constructing his own radical skepticism (in order, again, to defeat
it), then makes an original contribution to skepticism by considering the possibility of an
evil genius. This is a being that has all the powers traditionally associated with God, but is
evil, so evil that it has convinced us that even simple mathematical claims are true, when
they are not. With the introduction of the evil genius, Descartes seems to have constructed
a skepticism so powerful that it calls into question anything we have ever been certain
of: that we have bodies, that there are other people around us, that we’re awake when
we think we are, and even that 2 + 2 = 4. Most important, for epistemology, is that Des-
cartes transforms the discussion into one of doubt about what we call the external world:
the world of objects that are outside of our mind, including the ordinary objects, such as
tables and chairs, about which we make our most confident knowledge claims. Ever since
Descartes’s Meditations on First Philosophy, in which he presents this argument (1641), epis-
temologists have tended to focus on two specific issues: Can we be certain of our claims
about the external world? If we can, how can we demonstrate this certainty?

Responses to Skepticism

Most of us, of course, when confronting someone
who denies that we have hands, or who suggests
that we might be dreaming, would simply think
the person is crazy. But this is where philosophy
sometimes diverges in its approach from the
way we ordinarily go about our lives. We might
wave our hand in front of the person, or simply
respond, “Of course I’m not dreaming.” But phi-
losophers are rarely content with mere assertions:
They seek reasons, and arguments, that justify a
conclusion. It can often be frustrating: talking to a
philosopher can, at times, resemble talking to the
curious five-year-old who insists on always ask-
ing “why?” But the epistemologist has to respond
to the skeptic if he or she wishes to establish a
claim, rather than merely assert it.

Consider John and Mary. John is an epistemologist; Mary is a skeptic. Clearly enough,
John wants to demonstrate that his knowledge claims are to some extent true, or at least
reliable. Mary wishes to deny this, and John and Mary sit down and argue it out. There
seem to be three possible results from which John has to choose, and these three reveal the
three standard responses epistemologists have given to the skeptic.

First, Mary can simply win the argument. In this case, John has to give up his original goal
of establishing true or reliable knowledge claims and become a skeptic himself. At best,

Bader-Butowski/Photolibrary

In some respects, philosophers and
children are quite similar in their
quests for knowledge. Who else con-
stantly feels the urge to ask, “Why?”

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.1 How Does One Know Something?

John can go home licking his wounds, hope to live to fight another day, and find better
arguments with which to defeat Mary. However, such decisive victories seem to be rare
in philosophy.

John’s second option is to defeat Mary and show that skepticism is, for one reason or
another, incorrect or indefensible. This, naturally, has been the most popular approach
among epistemologists. Different philosophers have developed different techniques they
believe refute the skeptic, but we can look at one of the most famous arguments in the
history of Western philosophy to see the kind of lengths to which one may have to go to
do so.

As we saw, Descartes developed his own version of radical skepticism, but did so in order
to defeat it. His strategy was to show that if even the most powerful version of skepticism—
that which Descartes himself provided—could be refuted, then skepticism would no longer
pose a threat. So let’s consider how he went about showing the skeptic was wrong.

The skeptic, particularly the radical skeptic, claims
that no one can know anything for certain. For
Descartes, then, that means if the skeptic is correct,
every claim must be doubted. But if I’m doubt-
ing, then am I not doing some kind of thinking?
Don’t I have to exist to do such thinking? In other
words, even if I were somehow to doubt the claim
“I am thinking,” I would still have to be think-
ing to doubt it. Thus, the skeptic has to be wrong:
the skeptic, in asserting some claim, has to think
it. Famously, Descartes says that anyone who
thinks has to exist; that is, “I think, therefore I
am.” By showing the skeptic that the statement
“I don’t think” (because really the skeptic is say-
ing “I think that I don’t think”) can never be true,
Descartes establishes one claim that is absolutely true, and which cannot be coherently
denied, even by the most radical skeptic.

Whew. That seems to be a lot of work to do, just to show that something we already know
to be true really is true. But it is important to remember that the stakes are high here: if
the skeptic cannot be defeated, then all knowledge claims may come into question. So
even though Descartes works very hard just to establish this one simple truth, he seems to
defeat the skeptic’s general view that nothing could be true.

There have been other ways put forth to defeat the skeptic, often following Descartes’s
strategy: finding a claim that even the most extreme skeptic could not deny and then
using that claim as a foundation on which to build a more general epistemological theory.

But John has one more option: Rather than being defeated by Mary’s skeptical arguments,
or trying Descartes’s approach and defeating those arguments, John can have a more
complicated response. This is similar to that presented by David Hume and has become
increasingly popular among philosophers. It also has the advantage of seeming to sound
like common sense.

TK Stock/Photolibrary

“I think, therefore I am.” The famous
phrase echoes Descartes’s belief that
anyone who thinks has to exist.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.1 How Does One Know Something?

Hume’s advice to John, to put it a bit informally, is
to relax. Hume would tell John that there are two
different kinds of skepticism, extreme and moder-
ate. Descartes is clearly dealing with the extreme
skeptic, who requires that even the simplest and
most obvious truths be demonstrated beyond any
doubt, or she will conclude that nothing at all can
be true or even reliably known.

Hume suggests that we are on much safer ground
if we recognize that some skepticism is called
for but realize that although we may not be cer-
tain about things, we are hardly uncertain about
everything. To use a famous example, we have
a great deal of confidence that the sun will rise
tomorrow. Do we know it in a way that will sat-
isfy the radical skeptic? Probably not. Does that
mean we should be in an utter panic about what
will happen tomorrow morning? Of course not.

In many circumstances, our evidence and past experience give us plenty of reasons to be
very confident about what will and won’t happen, and Hume suggests that these are the
kinds of things we would rarely stop to consider (unless we were talking to a philoso-
pher). At the same time, a little skepticism is frequently called for, for often our actions are
based on inadequate or incomplete evidence.

This, then, might be the third response to Mary that John could adopt: moderate skepti-
cism, proportionate to the evidence and experience that are available. Imagine you have a
good friend. You discover she has lied to you once in the past; should you conclude that
you can never, ever trust any single thing she says in the future? That might be an extreme
response. But a moderate response might be reasonable, and you may hesitate in accept-
ing without question what she says in the future. Of course, if you discover that she has
lied more often than you originally realized, your reluctance to believe her will increase.
Thus, moderate skepticism recognizes that many things we believe to be true are, for all
practical purposes, certain or at least reliable. But the moderate skeptic also recognizes
that some things we believe to be true may not be, and we should adjust our degree of
confidence in those beliefs accordingly.

The epistemologist, as we see, operates within two extremes. On the one hand, one can
reject any and all knowledge claims. The closer we head to that extreme, the closer we
reach its endpoint of absolute skepticism, where nothing is true: a position Descartes and
others have suggested is impossible to maintain. But at the other extreme is what one
might call the endpoint of “absolute gullibility,” where one believes that everything is true.
Clearly that is also incoherent: one who believed that everything was true would have
to believe, among many other things, that triangles have three sides, that triangles don’t
have three sides, and that triangles are both three-sided and not three-sided. In addition to
fairly obvious logical problems that arise for the absolutely gullible (if, for instance, you
believe everything is true, you also have to believe it is true that not everything is true),
the recognition that there are some things we want to reject as false identifies this position
as impossible to maintain.

Tim Winborn/Photolibrary

Unlike Descartes’s brand of skepti-
cism, Hume’s doesn’t require one to
question everything. Even though
Hume agreed that we can’t be totally
certain of anything, he’d argue that
farmers can rest easy knowing that the
sun will rise again tomorrow.

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CHAPTER 3Section

3.2 Theories of Knowledge

Between absolute skepticism and absolute gullibility is a wide range of epistemological
theories. We will now turn to some of these theories, which will help fill in some of the
ideas outlined in the preceding discussion, and begin to fill in some of the gaps in order
to give a more complete picture of what epistemology hopes to provide in its account of
human knowledge, and how it seeks to provide that account.

3.2 Theories of Knowledge

We’ve now looked at some of the general goals of epistemology and seen some of the general ideas of how to approach those goals, while also recognizing that the one important thing any epistemologist must do is provide a response to skepti-
cism. We can now go a bit deeper into the specifics of the theories philosophers have put
forth.

Correspondence Theories of Truth and Knowledge

In our previous discussions, we had various people represent perspectives on questions
of knowledge; for instance, we saw Mary the skeptic and Tommy the naïve empiricist.
To make it a little easier to keep track of the person claiming to know something (or the
skeptic, who claims not to know), and whatever it is that person claims to know, we will
introduce a couple of abbreviations: “S” for the subject, and “p” for the proposition that
subject claims to know. Thus, rather than saying “Ann knows that grass is green,” we
will substitute “S” for “Ann,” and “p” for “grass
is green.” The result will be “S knows that p,” and
we can then substitute any knowing subject for S
and any proposition for p. This is such a standard
way of treating knowers and what they know
that it is sometimes called the S knows that p
epistemology.

For most of the history of philosophy, the obvi-
ous candidate for an adequate account of how we
know something began with the subject and its
knowledge claims, and then proceeded to explain
that these claims were justified, or reliable, or
true: if what the statement said matched up, or
corresponded with, the world in an appropriate
way. If Bill sees a cat sitting on the sofa, and then
says “the cat is sitting on the sofa,” Bill qualifies
as knowing this if, in fact, the cat is sitting on the sofa. That is, if Bill’s claim corresponds
to the facts of the world, we can say the claim is true, and that he knows it; for this rea-
son, this is known as a correspondence theory of truth, and giving us a related theory of
knowledge. Using our new terminology, we can say “‘S knows that p’ is true if and only
if what S claims about p corresponds to p.” Written this way, it may look more difficult
than it really is; it is a good idea to keep in mind we are still talking about cats and sofas.
The basic idea here is simply this: Our claims are true, and we can come to know them,

Charles Shoffner/Photolibrary

“If” a large bus is yellow and has the
name of a school district on it, “then” it
is a schoolbus. This is an example of a
correspondence theory of truth.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.2 Theories of Knowledge

if our claims match up (correspond) with the world correctly. It seems likely that this is
the theory most people adopt without thinking about it, but, as we will see, philosophers
have challenged it for various reasons.

We have a statement of knowledge then, and a correspondence account of its truth. But
how do we determine that, in fact, the statement and the world match up in the appropri-
ate way? Here, unsurprisingly, philosophers disagree with each other. Some insist that we
have access to certain foundational perceptions, quite similar to those we saw the empiri-
cist put forth: I see the cat, or I have a visual stimulus of a cat, or “I am appeared to by a
cat-like object.” As the last example indicates, the more philosophers talk about this issue,
the less clear it becomes what exactly we have on our hands when we make a percep-
tual claim. Some even talk about “raw feels,” “immediate phenomenological states,” and
“intuitive perceptions”; however, in spite of this forbidding terminology, the general goal
is the same. We need to account for how we can have a perception (visual or otherwise)
of the external world that gives us reliable information. If we get too confident about our
abilities here, we always have the skeptic to challenge that confidence.

This issue, about the relationship between the
thinking or knowing subject and what it wants
to say in terms of its knowledge, turns out to be
trickier than one might suspect at first glance.
But we can already see how the correspondence
theory of truth allows us to provide a very basic
definition of knowledge, a definition that can be
found in Plato and that has dominated most of
the history of epistemology.

We can conclude this brief outline, then, with
this traditional definition of knowledge, assum-
ing we have some sort of grasp of what the cor-
respondence theory of truth says. We can begin
with our original example, and then by formal-
izing it, make it more general.

“Bill knows that the cat is on the sofa” is true (he does know it) if the following three con-
ditions are all satisfied, or met:

Bill knows that the cat is on the sofa if and only if

1. Bill believes the cat is on the sofa;

2. The cat is on the sofa;

3. Bill’s belief is justified.

These are, then, the three traditional components of the definition of knowledge: knowl-
edge is justified true belief.

Using our new terminology, then, we can summarize this conception of knowledge, what
one might call the “classical” conception of knowledge, as follows:

Adam Marcinek/Photolibrary

While this cat may be pondering its
own philosophical questions, our
belief that the cat is on the couch is jus-
tified because (a) we believe the cat is
on the couch, and (b) the cat is, indeed,
on the couch.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.2 Theories of Knowledge

S knows that p if and only if

1. S believes p;

2. p is true;

3. S’s belief that p is justified.

Yet again, it seems as if philosophers work awfully hard to establish something that pretty
much everyone already knows. But, as we will see, various philosophers have argued, in
a number of different ways, that this account is inadequate. Some, such as Edmund Get-
tier (b. 1927), have provided very influential arguments showing that something might
well be a justified true belief but not be something we would claim to know (Gettier, 1963).

But for our purposes, we can see that we now have what appears to be a plausible theory
of knowledge, based upon a plausible theory of truth, one that seems to capture our basic,
commonsense notions of what makes a proposition true, and thus what then allows us to
know what that proposition asserts about the world. We can now turn our attention to the
problems these theories seem to have, prompting epistemologists to offer something as an
alternative to the idea of correspondence.

Coherence Theories of Knowledge

Our friend Bill tells us that he knows the cat is on
the sofa. Perhaps we are in a skeptical mood, so
we ask him how he knows this. Bill tells us that he
sees the cat on the sofa; we, in turn, ask him how he
can trust his eyesight to be reliable; hasn’t he been
fooled before, by mirages, or optical illusions? Or
perhaps he once thought he recognized someone
from a distance, but upon moving closer, it turned
out to be someone he didn’t in fact know? Bill gets
a bit frustrated at these picky objections but tells us
that when he is close enough and the light is good
and he is sufficiently alert and not sick, he can trust
his eyesight. Naturally, we bring up the standard
skeptical objections: How close is close enough?
How do we know the light is good? What does it
mean to be sufficiently alert? How can you be cer-
tain you aren’t sick? It isn’t going to satisfy us if Bill
says he knows something if he satisfies the condi-
tions for knowing something; that just assumes
what he is trying to justify (what philosophers call
begging the question). Bill may run out of patience
and say his version is good enough for him, but if he wants to continue to explore the epis-
temological issues here, he has to respond to our questions. Very quickly, he discovers what
has been called the problem of infinite regress. If my beliefs (or knowledge claims) rest on
other beliefs—as when Bill’s perception of the cat relies on my belief that Bill can generally
trust what his eyes tell him—then those beliefs in turn need to be justified. Of course, those
beliefs themselves rest on still more beliefs, and we seem to end up with two options. Either

Rick Friedman/Photolibrary

Arguing “I believe abortion is wrong
because the Bible says it’s wrong” or “I
believe we need school reform because
X studies show that we need school
reform” is a form of infinite regress,
in which beliefs rest on other beliefs.
However true the statements may be,
this concept is prevalent in political
campaigning.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.2 Theories of Knowledge

I have a set of unjustified beliefs (which the skeptic will be happy to point out are unjustified),
or I have one or more beliefs that I accept as simply true and undeniable. In our discussion
of Descartes, we saw his claim that when he thinks, he knows he exists, was a claim that
had to be accepted as true and undeniable. But that seems quite different, and conceptually
far away, from our being able to accept the reports of our senses. Should we say that what
the senses tell us are automatically true? This seems to be a problem, because we know
that sometimes what our senses tell us is not true. Or should we say that the reports our
senses give us are unjustified? This is uncomfortable for some epistemologists. We want our
knowledge to be justified, but if our knowledge rests on perceptions that are either unjusti-
fied or potentially misleading and unreliable, well, this is a problem.

We can succumb to the temptation to just tell the
epistemologist to shut up. But if we want to offer
a solution that will satisfy the philosopher, that
won’t work. In fact, philosophers have addressed
infinite regress by offering an alternative to the
correspondence theory of truth that seems to lead
us into an infinite regress: a coherentist approach
to the problem of knowledge.

The fundamental idea of a coherence theory of
knowledge is that no single belief, or set of beliefs,
is privileged or foundational. Rather, our beliefs, or
knowledge claims, form a complex, interconnected
structure—sometimes compared to a spider’s web.
Any one belief (call it B) will rest on a large set of
other beliefs, and each of those will rest on other
beliefs (which could include, in part, B itself). The
crucial feature of this approach is that we don’t

have a structure that rests on some set of truths that are certain—true—that can thereby
support all of our other claims. Rather, all of our beliefs “hang together” as a whole.

We can return to Bill to see how this might work: he tells us—yet again—that he knows that
the cat is on the sofa. Now when we ask him to justify this claim, he begins to mention all
of his other beliefs: the general reliability of his senses and other beliefs that he has based
on those senses that turned out to be true; he might even point to the fact that he heard our
question correctly as indicative of a reliable sensory report, and, of course, his belief that we
are listening to him is still another belief that seems to fit together nicely with all of the oth-
ers. No single belief Bill mentions plays a foundational role, but all of his beliefs cohere in
such a way that he is able to rely on his knowledge claims. It is also worth noting that there
are beliefs—maybe we suggest to Bill that pigs can fly—that will not cohere with all of his
other beliefs sufficiently for him to accept the claim. The claim doesn’t come automatically
labeled as false, of course; rather, it is a matter of how it fits with the rest of a set of beliefs.
Cats on sofas cohere pretty easily with our other beliefs; flying pigs do not.

The obvious advantage of coherentism is that, because it doesn’t rely on foundational
beliefs at all, it doesn’t have to worry about foundational beliefs being unjustified or
potentially false. As we have seen, that seems to be a serious problem for the correspon-
dence theory. However, the coherence theory, sadly, seems to confront a difficulty that
may be as serious, if not worse.

Neale Clark/Photolibrary

The coherence theory of knowledge
implies that our beliefs form a com-
plex, interconnected structure. With
beliefs stemming from other personal
beliefs, one’s set of opinions and theo-
ries has a web-like relationship.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.2 Theories of Knowledge

Solipsism
A well-known doctrine among philosophers is called solipsism; the idea that, for an indi-
vidual, the only thing that exists in the world is the mind of that individual. In this view,
the only thing you have access to is your own mind and its contents. This would mean
everything—your body, everyone else, the stars and planets, what you had for lunch,
everything—is simply a projection of your own mind. Not too many philosophers take
solipsism seriously, for what may be obvious reasons. But let’s call a given theory T; if
solipsism is consistent with, or worse, supported by, T, that isn’t an argument for solip-
sism: it’s a pretty good sign something is wrong with T. Critics of the coherence theory of
knowledge point out that solipsism is a completely coherent, logically consistent view-
point. They then want to find out if the coherence theorist really wants to say what the
solipsist says should count as knowledge. Again, for what should be obvious reasons, that
is a problem for the coherentist: either a thoroughly wacky view such as solipsism counts
as knowledge, or some other criterion has to be added to coherence to support its claims of
justifying knowledge. Presumably, we don’t want a “wacky epistemology,” but if we add
something to coherentism, it isn’t clear that we any longer really have what would qualify
as a coherence theory of knowledge. That is, in order to defend the coherence theory of
knowledge, the coherentist has to abandon it.

If this isn’t bad enough news for the coherence theorist, many have argued that the prob-
lem just mentioned leads to a more general worry. If we rely solely on the coherence of our
beliefs to justify our knowledge claims, then how do we move from those beliefs to what
those the beliefs are about? That is, what is the relationship between our knowledge claims
and the “real world” that we, presumably, want to know about? It isn’t entirely clear from
the coherentist position how we get that aspect of the world that we seem to confront,
in the form of the objects that make up the external world. In short, if this objection is
legitimate, the coherentist seems to sacrifice the real part of the real world, and loses what
philosophers sometimes call the “robustness” of our knowledge that, in the long run, the
theory should be able to account for or explain.

So far we’ve seen that the correspondence theorist seems to have one kind of problem,
that certain beliefs have to be foundational that are, themselves, either unjustified or unre-
liable. But the coherence theorist has a different kind of problem, having a completely
coherent epistemology that may be completely bizarre (such as solipsism), or fails to
account for the objective aspect of the real world that is imposed upon us, whether we like
it or not. These seem to be substantial problems; as always, we can just say we know what
we know, or tell the epistemologist to quit bugging us. But there are other philosophical
options still available, so before we give up, we can look at one of these options.

Kant’s Theory of Knowledge

The rationalists, such as Descartes, emphasized that our sources of true and certain knowl-
edge came from reason; that is, what we can say we know is based on what we can gain
solely through our mind. The senses, for the rationalists, often interfere with our ability to
discover the truth. The empiricists, on the other hand, regarded the senses as the source
of our knowledge, and thus thought many of our ideas were really just general claims
based on the information we derive from such sensory organs as eyes and ears. The con-
frontation between classical rationalism and classical empiricism is a part of the history of

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.2 Theories of Knowledge

philosophy called “modern” philosophy, and is often thought to end with the philosophy
of Immanuel Kant, who sought to show that both of these traditions had some important
things right, but also had some important things quite wrong.

Kant’s Categories
Kant argued that we do have many general concepts that simply cannot be found through
the senses, for the simple reason that we need these general concepts in order to under-
stand what the senses tell us. But those general concepts—what he called “categories”
(Kant, 1996)—can’t be the whole story because so much information about the world
comes to us through our interaction with it through the senses. In Kant’s view, the human
being makes judgments about experience: those judgments have to employ certain con-
cepts that make our sensory information comprehensible, but the content of those judg-
ments comes from our senses. Although it sounds complicated—and it can get that way—
Kant regards himself as simply showing that when we say things about the world around
us, we bring with us a mind, equipped with certain concepts that allow us to understand
the information the world gives us.

One way of thinking about this is to imagine a friend videotaping a swim meet and show-
ing it to you. Your friend has a peculiar sense of humor, however, and decides to show
it to you backward. How long does it take for you to realize this? Rather than seeing the
swimmers dive off the starting blocks into the pool, and begin swimming, you see the
swimmers moving backward through the water, then emerging into the air and landing,
somehow, on their feet on top of the starting blocks. While this isn’t an example Kant
himself uses, it is a way of showing what he had in mind when he tells us we bring to our
experience certain concepts that make that experience possible.

Watching something like the swim meet, we are dealing with what we can call an event,
a complicated sequence of things that have an order: for instance, the official fires off the
starter ’s pistol (A), the swimmers dive into the pool (B), and then they begin swimming
down the pool (C). A-B-C is the natural sequence, while C-B-A is the sequence your friend

showed you when he ran the tape backward. Our
perception of the entire event is made up of an
uncountable number of individual perceptions,
all that we take in through our eyes as well as
whatever other sense organs are involved. But
we organize all that information with concepts
that allow us to make sense of it. What is crucial
for Kant is the idea that we couldn’t have gotten
those organizing concepts, the categories, from
the information our senses give us because they
are what allow us to make sense of that informa-
tion to begin with. One of the categories Kant
emphasizes is that of causality: we bring with us
to our sense experiences the concept of cause and
effect. One thing we know about causality is that
a cause precedes its effect: I hit my thumb with a
hammer (cause) and quickly feel a sensation of
pain (effect). If Kant is right, we already have a

RNT Productions

An “event” is a situation where we
expect a sequence of things to unfold
in a particular order. At a swim meet,
for example, we expect the swimmers
to line up, the gun to sound, and the
race to commence.

mos66103_03_ch03_095-146.indd 112 11/30/10 5:16 PM

CHAPTER 3Section 3.2 Theories of Knowledge

notion of causality that allows us to put that event in its appropriate sequence of (1) hit-
ting thumb and (2) pain. Looking at our experience, to see what we need for it to make
sense, are these kinds of categories, such as substance (that something endures through
time), causality, and the causal interaction among substances (say, between a thumb and
a hammer). This doesn’t mean we can’t make mistakes about specific, individual causal
claims. Suppose you have a headache: you take some aspirin, drink a lot of water, and
take a nap; soon the headache disappears. Perhaps the aspirin causes the headache to go
away; perhaps it was the water, perhaps the nap, perhaps the combination. But we can be
pretty confident of the sequence here, and that the things you did to get rid of the head-
ache didn’t cause the headache. Simply to make sense of this sequence, then, we assume
(or, technically, presuppose) causality to make any sense of that sequence.

Kant’s response, then, to the empiricist (such as Hume) is to argue that we need catego-
ries, such as causality, to make sense of the information the world gives us. Without these
concepts, that information wouldn’t make any sense. So we need categories before experi-
ence to make sense of experience, and for that reason they precede experience and can’t
be gotten from it.

Grammar and Logic
While Kant’s theory is challenging, it isn’t very hard to see what he has in mind if
we use one of his Kant’s own ways of describing what is going on here. Long before
you studied grammar and the rules of language,
you spoke, more or less, grammatical English.
That is, long before you knew the difference
between a noun, a verb, and a direct object, you
knew that “Bob threw the ball” was correct, and
“Threw ball Bob the” was incorrect. Eventually,
you learned that one follows the rules of gram-
mar, the other does not.

Kant argues that just as language has rules for
speaking correctly (grammar), we have rules for
thinking correctly (logic). We know, for instance,
that “I am 6 feet tall” and “I am not 6 feet tall”
can’t both, at the same time, be true. We knew that
well before we ever heard of something called
“logic,” but if we study logic, as we did grammar,
we find out that this is a rule of logic called the
principle of non-contradiction. So just as we gen-
erally speak grammatically, we generally think
logically, even if we don’t know what the rules
are that we are following. We also know when
these rules are broken. Does this mean we always
think logically? Sadly, it does not; just as we don’t
always speak grammatically, we don’t always
think logically. But it is a good idea to know these
rules if we wish to improve our abilities to think
“correctly” and to speak “correctly.”

Gary Conner/Photolibrary

Through a “logic of experience,” detec-
tives can spot an irregularity at a crime
scene and often use it to help paint a
mental picture of what occurred there.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.2 Theories of Knowledge

Kant insists that just as we have rules for thought, we have rules for knowledge; these rules
for knowledge, then, function as a logic of experience, and things like causality then become
rules we employ in experience. We may not always get it right, but the rules that a logic of
experience provides help us understand what a genuine experience looks like. This, then,
would be a way of explaining why we knew, immediately, that the videotaped swim meet
our friend showed us was running backward. As Kant and many other philosophers urge,
the better we understand these rules of experience, the better we understand the knowledge
claims that experience gives us. In Kant’s analogy, then: to speak better, learn the rules of
grammar; to think better, learn the rules of logic; to know better, learn the necessary rules
that make knowledge possible.

Robustness and the “Myth of the Given”

So far, we’ve seen three of the best-known attempts to explain the ability of human beings to
know things. Generally, we do assume that we know things, although the skeptic is always
around to remind us that maybe our confidence shouldn’t be too high. The correspondence
theorist insists that our knowledge claims are true, or at least very reliable, if our claims
match up, or correspond, to the way the world actually is. The coherence theorist, in con-
trast, suggests that our various beliefs all must fit together, or cohere, correctly. Kant offers
an alternative that combines a correspondence theory of truth (that is, our claims are true if
they correspond to the world) and a rule-oriented theory of knowledge (that is, what we call
knowledge must not break any of the rules that give us the ability to make those knowledge
claims in the first place). We have also seen some of the problems these theories confront,
and epistemologists continue to debate the various advantages and difficulties of each. As
always, we can simply say we know what we know and be done with it, but for philoso-
phers, that isn’t enough, for what is probably a pretty obvious reason. If two people disagree,
but are content with their knowledge claims, we seem to have no way of resolving the dis-
pute. Many people are content with that result, but philosophers want to continue to see if
there is a more satisfactory way of resolving the dispute.

Epistemologists and, as we will see, scientists insist that another condition must be con-
sidered when considering human knowledge: that our knowledge claims make sense and,
in a fundamental way, make a difference. Sometimes philosophers use the term “robust”
to describe theories that present results that are widely known and widely accepted, help
solve problems that remain, and inform our further research.

To see this, we can return to our example of solipsism, the idea that the entire universe
is simply a projection of an individual’s mind. As noted, most philosophers regard this
theory as entirely consistent: everything can be explained within it, and there are no obvi-
ous logical problems, so one can go along one’s merry way as a solipsist without fear of
ever being shown to be wrong. We might think this would be a great theory that offered
such a result, but most of us, and most philosophers, regard solipsism as simply crazy. A
more formal way of saying this is that it isn’t robust: it is neither widely known nor widely
accepted, it solves problems in a completely unsatisfactory way (or really doesn’t solve
problems as all), and hardly helps us do further research. The most obvious way to dem-
onstrate the failure of solipsism to be robust is to imagine a solipsist trying to defend the
view: Who is the solipsist talking to? Why is such a defense necessary? There is no world
outside of the solipsist’s mind, so it isn’t really clear what role any sort of communication
with others would even play. So we can see that a consistent and coherent theory—here,

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.2 Theories of Knowledge

solipsism—isn’t enough to establish its view,
whether because we want to say it lacks robust-
ness, or, more informally, that it simply doesn’t
make enough sense to be of any real interest to
anyone.

There is the temptation, on first reading some
philosophers, to grow impatient with their very
picky objections to things that we may already
think we have a pretty good handle on. As we
have seen, some things we think we have pretty
well figured out turn out to be more difficult than
we originally thought. As philosophers, we have
the obligation to see if we can explain things to
address the difficulties that arise if only to show,
as Wittgenstein tried, that many of the problems
that arise don’t really need to.

A quick way of expressing one’s impatience is simply to tell the epistemologist that
we are able to look at the world, make our knowledge claims, and thus read the truths
of the world by looking at it. Naturally, the philosopher is suspicious of this ability
and thus generates yet one more problem for our naïve, commonsense view of human
knowledge.

If we can simply read the truths of the world off of it by looking at it, then presumably
there will be widespread agreement on what those truths are. I see an apple and say it is
red; you see an apple and say it is red. We both, that is, have the same sense perceptions
and make the same judgment (“the apple is red”): we agree. Sounds simple, but by now
we probably realize that things that sound too simple may be too simple.

Let’s change the example to a slightly more complicated experience. You and I are watch-
ing the Super Bowl together: our favorite teams—we are passionate, die-hard fans—are
playing each other. The score is tied; with 30 seconds to go, the quarterback of my team
throws the ball into the end zone to his receiver,
who fails to catch what would be the winning
touchdown. It is entirely obvious to me that the
receiver was pushed, and there should be a pen-
alty called; it is entirely obvious to you that the
defender made a magnificent, and completely
legal, play to prevent the catch.

We both have virtually identical perceptions of
this event, yet come to radically distinct conclu-
sions. If we can read the truths off of the world,
how can there be this disagreement? More gener-
ally, isn’t our interaction with the external world
complicated? So aren’t our judgments about that
world more like the complex events of the football
game, rather than identifying a single, isolated
object such as an apple and judging that it is red?

SGM SGM/Photolibrary

While most of us agree that an apple
is red, is it necessarily a given? Of
course it is red, but what shade of red?
What characteristics would you use to
describe it as red? These questions fall
under the myth of the given.

Russ Bishop/Photolibrary

There are those who would say they
can simply look at the world and know
there are certain truths in life. Philoso-
phers, of course, would require addi-
tional explanation to this theory.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.2 Theories of Knowledge

Philosophers have come up with various ways of describing this aspect of human knowl-
edge; the most famous, due to the formulation of Wilfred Sellars (1912–1989), is called the
myth of the given (Sellars, 1956). The given is the idea that the world is simply out there,
ready for us to look at it, judge, and thus determine what the “facts” are about the world.
Sellars’s argument is that this, sadly, isn’t what happens; rather, we perceive the world with
a complicated apparatus of concepts, assumptions, prejudices, theories, biases, languages,
and emphases. A common way of expressing the myth of the given is to say that all per-
ception is “theory-laden”; that is, there is no such thing as an immediate perception of the
external world, and all such perceptions are embedded in a much broader context. Even the
apple example may not be as easy as it appears: perhaps you are an accomplished painter,
and thus have a much more complex understanding of color terms. You may then describe
the color of the apple as a quite specific shade of red, while I only know the one general term
“red.” The point isn’t that one of us is wrong and the other right; in fact, in a certain sense,
we are both right. But we perceive the apple, the football game, and, in general, the vari-
ous features of the world not directly, but using our minds to interpret the information we
get from the world and thus often coming to widely different conclusions based on that
information.

Descartes: “Clear and Distinct”

We’ve seen a combination of competing theories—correspondence, coherentism, and
Kant’s—and the challenge of radical skepticism, as well as the requirement of robust-
ness and the recognition that we may well not be able to look at the world directly
and determine its truths. Assuming we’re not quite ready to give up and simply ignore
epistemology, two questions seem to emerge: What exactly is it that would satisfy the
epistemologist? Can that satisfaction ever be accomplished? In other words, is there
some standard we have to meet to say that we know something? Is there any possibility
of finding that standard?

One traditional answer goes back to Descartes. For Descartes, we can claim to know some
claim P if and only if it meets his standard of being “clear and distinct”: So if I know that
the book is on the table, or that rectangles have four sides, or that Trenton is the capital
of New Jersey, I must know these things clearly and distinctly. But what does that mean?

Unfortunately, Descartes isn’t very clear himself about what is involved here. The basic
idea seems to be that an idea of a thing is clear and distinct if and only if it represents
all the essential features of that thing. As is often the case with Descartes, an example
from mathematics may help. Let’s say I have an idea of a triangle; that idea is then clear
and distinct if and only if it has all the essential features of a triangle. Essential features
are those things that a thing must have to be that thing, so a traditional triangle’s essen-
tial features are having three sides, three angles, and interior angles adding to 1808. An
object (a polygon) that has three sides, three angles, and interior angles adding to 1808
is a triangle, and something can’t be a triangle unless it has the properties. So these
are essential properties of a triangle, and my idea of a triangle is clear and distinct if it
represents all the relevant essential properties. We might also think of an example from
chemistry, where the essential feature of a molecule of water is that it has two atoms of
hydrogen and one of oxygen (or H2O). So if I have an idea of water that says it is H2O,
that would be clear and distinct.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.2 Theories of Knowledge

It becomes considerably less obvious what the essential properties would be for more
ordinary objects to have corresponding clear and distinct ideas. What, for instance, are the
essential features of a chair? Must it have four legs? Must one be able to sit on it? Could
we imagine a chair that might have some of these properties and lack others; would our
idea of a “chair” then not be clear and distinct? What about even more complicated terms,
such as “love”? Are there features of being in love that must be present? If one or more of
these essential features isn’t present, are we not in love? What would the list of essential
features of “love” include and exclude?

The other rationalists used slightly different language, but generally followed Descartes
in thinking that we have these ideas of reason that are certain and true. Descartes claimed
we know these ideas are true because they are guaranteed by God; God would not allow
human beings to have clear and distinct ideas that were not true, for that would be a
deception. God, as all-good in Descartes’s conception (and most conceptions of God),
would not deceive us, so we can rely on God’s guarantee.

But we can see that Descartes has an extremely
high standard for what we can take to be certain
(or clear and distinct): a perfectly clear idea of it,
containing all the required features (and leaving
out all those that are not required), and the guar-
antee of God that these clear and distinct ideas are
certain and true. Just in case we are still a bit skep-
tical, Descartes insists that we know these certain
truths by the “light of nature,” the ability of human
beings to immediately perceive the truth of ideas
through a natural ability of the human mind.

Here is one response, then, to the issue of what
the epistemologist requires for something to be
known: absolute, certain truth (guaranteed by God
or not) that is immediately and intuitively obvious
to everyone who takes the time to discover it. For
many, even those sympathetic to Descartes’s project, there are too many problems here for
his solution to be acceptable. An explanation of our knowledge that relies on God’s guaran-
tee seems to mix up theological and epistemological questions that should be kept separate.
Even if one accepts that guarantee, what it means for ideas, outside of mathematics and
physics (and mathematical physics), to be clear and distinct doesn’t really provide much
of an answer. To then be told that we know these things through an unexplained “light of
nature” does little to help, and it seems as if this kind of response to the demands of the
epistemologist is simply insufficient. But, as we will see, there is another response that takes
a completely different approach from that of Descartes, challenging not his answer to the
epistemologist but revising our conception of what we need in order to provide that answer.

Too High a Standard?

Perhaps somewhere between Descartes’s exacting standard for knowledge—absolute and
certain truth—and the temptation just to abandon any hope of meeting the epistemologist’s

Martin Ruegner/Photolibrary

Not everything has to be questioned.
For instance, Descartes believed that
we know certain truths by the “light of
nature.”

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.2 Theories of Knowledge

demands, there is room for an answer that will satisfy at least some epistemologists, and
provide a plausible response to the skeptic.

This seems to have been the approach taken by a number of philosophers who regarded
Descartes’s standards for knowledge as being too high; so high that they could never be
met, at least for most of our most ordinary knowledge claims. Do we want, then, to aban-
don our knowledge claims and give in to skepticism, or should we perhaps rethink what
our standards for knowledge should be?

David Hume and Immanuel Kant disagreed on many important philosophical issues, but
both, in somewhat different ways, shared a mutual respect for the Scottish philosophical
tradition known as commonsense philosophy. This may not look precisely like what we
would call common sense, but its fundamental idea is that many of our knowledge claims
are pretty reliable. Indeed, most of the time, what we claim to know is quite sufficient for
us to get around in the world, communicate with one another, plan for the future, and do
all the other things we would hope our knowledge would help us do. The question then
becomes whether this is good enough; if we fail to meet Descartes’s standards do we lose
all confidence in what we claim to know? Or is it more plausible to think that most of us
(quite possibly including Descartes), in going about our everyday lives, have sufficient
confidence in our beliefs, while, importantly, recognizing that we may have to change
some of those beliefs from time to time?

If the latter approach is legitimate, the issues between Hume and Kant return. Hume insists
that all our knowledge claims (except those of mathematics and logic) are based on our
experience, and that no such claims can ever be necessary. They may be so likely or probable
that we would never think to doubt them, but there is always the possibility that they will
turn out false. Kant agrees with Hume that specific knowledge claims—whether the cat is
on the sofa or the baseball broke the window—can turn out to be false, and thus are always
open to revision. But Kant disagrees with Hume, arguing that these specific knowledge
claims have to assume, or presuppose, certain general concepts that are necessary in order
to be able to make the specific claims themselves. We may be mistaken, that is, that some
specific cause led to some specific effect; but we cannot be mistaken that understanding

our world requires us to assume, or presuppose,
the notion of cause and effect. Otherwise, for Kant,
we would simply have unorganized sets of sense
perceptions, without the ability to turn them into
actual knowledge claims, or claims about experi-
ence. In this way, Kant believes he has an answer
to at least some versions of skepticism that Hume
does not. If our understanding of the world, and
our ability to experience it, requires that certain
concepts (such as causality) are absolutely uni-
versal and strictly necessary, then we have some
restrictions on what we can and cannot experience.
That limits the skeptic, in Kant’s eyes, to claiming
that individual empirical claims about knowledge
might be false; this is something both Kant and
Hume are willing to accept. Thus, the lowering of
the standard from Descartes’s to that of Kant’s (or

Christian Thomas/Photolibrary

Even though philosophers might
disagree on how we come to believe
things, they do agree that we have the
capacity to change our beliefs in light
of new evidence.

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CHAPTER 3Section

3.3 The Philosophy of Science

Hume’s) allows us to respond to the skeptic while satisfying the idea that we can explain a
large part of our knowledge as reliable and useful, along with the recognition that we may
have to change some of our beliefs in the light of new evidence.

One last point, however, should be made here about a specific kind of knowledge, namely
mathematics. With rare exceptions, philosophers have insisted that claims such as “2 + 3 =
5” and “All hexagons have six sides” are different kinds of knowledge claims than ordinary
empirical claims about cats and hammers and sofas and thumbs. Typically, empiricists adopt
the idea that mathematical truths are true by definition or can be proved to be true without
relying on any empirical information; they are just different kinds of truths. Rationalists have
tended to take mathematics as an example of the kind of certainty all our knowledge claims
should have, but, as we have seen, this is a standard that for many is simply too high. Even
though questions of mathematical knowledge continue to engage philosophers, and are
full of interesting epistemological issues, they are sufficiently complex and difficult that we
haven’t discussed them much here. It is, however, a good idea to keep mathematical truths
in mind when trying to determine what kinds of claims can really qualify as knowledge.

3.3 The Philosophy of Science

Science provides us with many of the kinds of knowledge claims that we regard as the most certain and the most reliable. Philosophers have raised difficulties for what justi-fies our knowledge claims within science, and even question what qualifies as science.
Epistemology has its own interesting issues and questions, but it also has many significant
implications for other fields. In this chapter, we will look at some topics in the philosophy
of science, in terms of what philosophers have said about some of the basic philosophical
concepts at the center of scientific inquiry, as well as some of the more modern develop-
ments that arise when philosophers examine sci-
ence and its methods.

Causality

Central to the sciences, both the natural sciences
(such as physics and astronomy) and the social
sciences (such as psychology and economics), is
the notion of causation. Consider some of these
basic causal claims:

• Dropping a lit match on rags soaked in
gasoline will cause a fire.

• Too many houses for sale in a neighbor-
hood will cause the prices to drop.

• Eating bananas will cause me to get
enough potassium.

• Excessive sunspots will cause my radio
reception to get worse.

FELLOW FELLOW/Photolibrary

If gasoline is flammable and a lit
match will ignite gasoline, will a match
dropped in a large gas tank cause a
flammable reaction? Not necessarily,
because the sheer amount of liquid gas
will likely extinguish the match. This
is one example of how causal relation-
ships often have different variables.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.3 The Philosophy of Science

In general, then, as we can see, we make causal claims all the time; not just in science, of
course, but constantly in our everyday lives. If I’m hungry, eating will cause me not to be
hungry, or at least be less hungry. This won’t come as much of a surprise, but it can be
a challenge to determine what, specifically, cause and effect relationships look like, how
they can be established, what confidence we can have in predicting future such causal
claims, and what kinds of mistakes can be made in thinking about cause.

If we want to talk with some degree of rigor about causal relations, it will help again to
use some abbreviations. Let C be the cause and E be the effect; so C 4 E could be read
as C causes E. To take one of the preceding examples: let C be excessive sunspots and E be
my radio reception gets worse. Then C 4 E can be read as excessive sunspots cause my
radio reception to get worse.

There are difficulties here, though, that begin to surface when we start looking a bit more
closely at events, either because the event itself can be complex, or because the causal
relationship isn’t entirely clear. For instance, one might have a close correlation between
C and E and yet not be willing to say C 4 E (or that C causes E). For instance, there is a
strong correlation between roosters crowing and the sunrise; but we probably don’t want
to say that the roosters’ crowing causes the sun to rise. So we need a correlation between
C and E, we need to identify which is the cause and which is the effect, and we need to be
able to distinguish between what seem to be accidental correlations and genuine, law-like
correlations. If we can do all this, we may be confident that we have successfully identi-
fied a causal relationship between C and E; but doing all of this isn’t always easy.

It may start to seem that philosophers take obvious things, that everyone already under-
stands, and then transform these same things into very confusing and very difficult top-
ics. Sometimes that happens; but what philosophers also want to do is determine whether
or not we really do understand these things that we think we do. Critically examining
our beliefs can be frustrating, but it can also be very rewarding to be able to justify—not
just assert—that we really do understand some of the things we claim to. It can be even
more frustrating, but in its own way also very rewarding, to realize that certain things we
always took to be obvious and true are neither.

As we begin to look at causality more closely, it will start to become clear that causality
plays a central role in understanding science; many experiments and investigations seek
to determine causal relationships. Does smoking cause heart disease? Does dieting cause
weight loss? Do credit cards cause bankruptcy? These and many other causal claims can
involve a number of factors; scientists often try to isolate one of these factors and test it to
see if it produces the effect in question. After we look at some of the theory that philoso-
phers have developed to examine these questions about causality, and after we introduce
some of the relevant terminology, we will turn to a specific controversy in science, and try
to apply these results.

Hume’s Problem

David Hume, whom we have already met, noticed something of interest in examining
our expectations of the future. We expect the future, in many ways, to be like the past
(although obviously not in all ways, which would make for a very boring future). What

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.3 The Philosophy of Science

gives us our confidence that certain things that we relied on in the past will be reliable in
the future? We can’t say the future will be like the past because in the past the future has
always been like the past: for one thing, that isn’t true (things happen differently than
we expect them to). Also, this argument looks as if it is saying our claim (the future will
resemble the past) is true because our claim is true (in the past, the future has resembled
the past). So Hume wanted to discover where we got our confident expectations about
the future.

To understand his argument, we need to introduce the notion of an inductive argu-
ment. An inductive argument has reasons, or premises, for a conclusion; but no matter
how many premises one may have, or how strong one’s reasons for accepting a certain
conclusion, the premises can be true and the conclusion false. A “good” inductive argu-
ment is said to be strong, and inductive arguments are evaluated on a continuous scale,
from very strong all the way to very weak. An example will probably make this clear.

I read Shakespeare’s play “Hamlet,” and it was difficult.

I read Shakespeare’s play “Othello,” and it was difficult.

I read Shakespeare’s play “Romeo and Juliet,” and it was difficult.

therefore

The next Shakespeare play I read will be difficult.

Perhaps you’ve read more than just these three plays, and they were also difficult; that
would make this inductive argument stronger. Or perhaps you read one of Shakespeare’s
plays, and it wasn’t quite as difficult as the others; that would make this inductive argu-
ment a bit weaker. But the possibility remains that you may have read a great number of
Shakespeare’s plays and found them all difficult; then one day you discover one that you
find quite easy. Thus, the premises would all be true, the argument would be relatively
strong (because those premises make the conclusion very likely), and yet the conclusion is
false. What does this have to do with causality, according to Hume?

Hume argues that all our understanding of causal relationships comes in the form of such
inductive arguments. Using C, E, and C 4 E, his argument looks like this:

C1 E1
C2 E2
C3 E3
Cn En

Cn11 4 En11

That is, we have seen one thing (C) followed by another thing (E) one, two, three—any
number (n)—times, so we develop the expectation that if we see C again (Cn+1) it will be
followed by E again (En+1). The more times C is followed by E, the stronger our expecta-
tion is that C will be followed by E. Indeed, our expectation is so strong that we regard C
as the cause of E. But, as Hume insists, this is an inductive argument. So no matter how
strong the support for the conclusion (that C 4 E, or C causes E), it could be false.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.3 The Philosophy of Science

Many of our strongest-held beliefs are of this nature, and it may sound odd to describe
these beliefs as “habits of the mind,” as Hume does in An Enquiry Concerning Human
Understanding (Hume, 1910, § IV). We often draw strong conclusions from very few prem-
ises: for instance, if you ate at a local fast food restaurant and got food poisoning, you
might go back again. But if you ate there twice and got food poisoning both times, you
might hesitate about going back a third time. But here you are relying on the claim that
this particular restaurant caused your food poisoning, and you’ve draw this conclusion on
the basis of only two examples.

For Hume, and probably for most of us, the most strongly held beliefs are those we con-
sider the “laws of nature.” These are the kinds of things that tell us, for instance, that
we can’t walk on water, that if we get too close to an open flame it will hurt, and that if
we drop a heavy object it will fall. If Hume is right, these are also simply the result of
very, very strong inductive arguments, but, as inductive arguments, their conclusions
don’t have to follow. That is, the laws of nature are only the kinds of things we have the
best support for; they aren’t necessarily true. Hume recognizes that we rarely, if ever,
doubt them; however, for some, saying the law of gravity is a “habit of the mind,” or
simply something we expect but can’t know is necessary, isn’t good enough. Don’t the
laws of nature have to hold everywhere and for all time? This is a problem that Hume
identifies—sometimes known as the problem of induction—and that philosophers (and
scientists) have continued to discuss.

It may seem pretty easy to determine which inductive arguments give us reliable infor-
mation, and which do not. For instance, it is unlikely that you have dropped a bowling
ball on your foot 350 times, yet you are probably quite confident that it would hurt to
do so (and, therefore, it is something to avoid). We might even want to say that if C is
followed by E 350 times, without exception, we can rely on the claim that C 4 E. But
we can bring out Hume’s problem with a famous story widely attributed to Bertrand
Russell, a well-known 20th-century British philosopher. Here, we will see C happen
more than 350 times, and each time it is followed by E. Yet concluding that C will always
be followed by E, or that C causes E, can be, as we will see, a very hazardous thing to
conclude.

Starting on December 1, a turkey wakes up every morning, and hears the farmer
slam the farmhouse door; and then, after a few minutes, the farmer comes in and
feeds the turkey. After a few days, the sequence “door slam-turkey fed” is pretty
well established. After months, it seems undeniable; for 100 days, it has hap-
pened. Then two hundred days. Then three hundred days. Then three hundred
fifty days. By now, the turkey has no doubt that when the door slams, it will soon
be followed by his breakfast.

Then around the end of November, it’s Thanksgiving morning.

Here we have a very strong inductive argument, but the conclusion is obviously false,
as the turkey learns when he gets his head cut off in order to play his central role as that
afternoon’s dinner.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.3 The Philosophy of Science

Responses to Hume

As mentioned previously, many would like to be able to say that the law of gravity is
true, or certain, or necessary. That is, given the mass of an object, and how it is affected
by another large object (such as a piano being affected by the earth), we can predict with
certainty what will happen. For example, a piano that is pushed off the roof of a 10-story
building will come plummeting down (Hume 1910). seems to reject this, saying that even
the laws of nature do not establish necessary connections between a cause and effect. We
may have such strong and confident expectations that we would never question them,
but to move from a confident expectation to a claim of necessity is, for Hume, unjustified.

A number of responses to Hume are available. We could agree with him, we could simply
say he’s wrong, or we could try to construct an argument showing that he is mistaken.
These, and other responses, have been put forth
since Hume’s era, but we should at least take
note here that just asserting that he is wrong is not
regarded as a good philosophical response; one
must try to demonstrate that he is wrong. Philoso-
phers tend to dismiss those responses that merely
assert claims, without providing arguments for
them: it is a position known as dogmatism, and
while dogmatism may be appropriate in some
contexts, it is rarely acceptable within philosophy.
However, it is certainly true that when one really
believes something, but has difficulty saying why,
dogmatism can be very tempting.

The two most prominent responses to Hume are
(1) to agree with him, but to carefully state what
that agreement means, and (2) to show that he
assumes something about causality that shows
his conclusion isn’t really justified, but reveals a
stronger conception of causality than he is will-
ing to admit. We can look at this first response
before turning to the somewhat more compli-
cated second one.

Traditionally—that is, before Hume—most phi-
losophers and scientists regarded the relationship
between cause and effect as necessary. If a cause
was correctly identified, it had to be followed by a
specific effect. Aristotle, for instance, gives a very
complex account of causality (which we can sidestep here) that involves a number of dif-
ferent kinds of causes; but even in the era in which Hume wrote, few doubted that causal-
ity involved a necessary connection, which is what Hume, famously, denies.

But let’s say Hume is right and accept the idea that our understanding of cause and effect
doesn’t establish a necessary connection between them. Have we lost something impor-
tant? Are we wholly incapacitated, unable to figure out how to go about doing things

german images/Photolibrary

Dogmatism is asserting something
rather than demonstrating something.
Various forms of scripture, for exam-
ple, contain dogmatic explanations for
religious origins.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.3 The Philosophy of Science

for the rest of our life? In other words, if Hume is right, does this lead to some sort of intel-
lectual paralysis?

Hume certainly did not think so, and it is important to see just what he denies (and,
therefore, what he accepts). We have all sorts of beliefs, some well-established, some
extremely well-established, and some not terribly well-established. We can rank these
in terms of confidence, and that confidence might be expressed as a bet. For instance,
very few people would be willing to bet that the sun will not rise tomorrow or that if
one drops a heavy object it will not fall to the ground. These are the kinds of beliefs
that we have utter confidence in and never even think about questioning. At a certain
point, conclusions of inductive arguments are so strongly supported, we act as if they
are necessary; but to claim that they are, in fact, necessary, is what Hume resists. With
this way of looking at Hume’s results, then, all we have lost—if he is correct—is the
philosopher ’s concern that our very strong confidence in causal relations isn’t strong
enough. But Hume might himself wonder what difference it makes, if we act as if there
is no reason to doubt that some cause will lead to some effect. We are confident that a
baseball thrown at an ordinary window will probably cause it to break; if we want to
insist that it has to break the window, we may not be satisfied. But, again, if Hume is
right, we may then simply have to accept the fact that we will not be satisfied. Many of
us may not regard this as much of a loss.

As was noted earlier, many see the history of philosophy, since 1800, as a battle between
those who are more sympathetic to Hume and those who are more sympathetic to Kant.
Kant claims that it was his reading of Hume that revealed to him how to address what he
saw as Hume’s skeptical results. Kant insists that the concept, or category, of causality is
necessary, while recognizing (with Hume) that any specific causal claim may not be neces-
sary. Kant constructs a sophisticated and complex argument, but we can give its outlines
to at least see how he provides an alternative to Hume.

Kant begins by distinguishing a “state of affairs” from an “event.” Consider, for instance,
a house: we see the house, and can look first (A) at the door, then (B) at the windows, and
then (C) at the roof; but we might choose to look at its various parts in a different order
(We can, that is, follow the sequence A-B-C or C-A-B or B-C-A.) This is because “house”
refers to a state of affairs, which is different from an event. An event seems to bring with it
a sequence of things in time, and those things have to have some kind of order. Consider,
again, the ball being thrown at an ordinary glass window. We see (1) the ball thrown, then
(2) the ball strike the window, and then (3) the glass shatter. That sequence of 1–2–3 char-
acterizes this as an event; one cannot simply choose to see 3 before 1 as one might choose
to look at the roof of a the house before looking at its windows.

Kant’s argument is subtle, but the basic idea should be clear. Hume himself distinguishes
between states of affairs and events and would accept the difference sketched out here.
He would not say that seeing the roof “caused” us to then see the windows, and he would
recognize that this is different than experiencing the event of the ball breaking the win-
dow. Kant points out that we distinguish states of affairs from events by seeing that events
have this kind of order, or sequence, in time that states of affairs do not. We can identify
something as an event if we put its various parts into the kind of temporal sequence we
saw earlier (as 1 then 2 then 3). One way of putting these parts into this sequence is to see
one of the parts as having to be earlier than another part (that 1 has to be before 2 in our

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.3 The Philosophy of Science

window-breaking story). We might, Kant admits, get the actual specifics of the sequence
wrong, but we do have to have some kind of sequence. So if Kant is right, Hume can only
give his account by assuming an account of events that requires that the parts of events be
put into this kind of order. So Hume is sneaking in an account of event that has a neces-
sary sequence (1–2–3) to give his account of causality. But that would mean that Hume
is sneaking in the idea of necessity when he tries to deny that causality has any sort of
necessity involved with it.

The argument, again, is complex, but if Kant is cor-
rect here, this provides a very powerful response
to Hume. To summarize it briefly, the idea is that
Hume has to use a conception of events for him to
say that we develop strong and confident expec-
tations about how these events will occur, or how
we can reliably predict that if one thing happens,
something else will follow. Hume would be happy
to admit that if a baseball were to strike an ordi-
nary window, the window would probably break.
But to understand that, he has to be able to iden-
tify this as an event, with a necessary sequence
(ball hits window, then window breaks, and not
the other way around) built into our understand-
ing of it as an event. So if Hume is correct in saying
that our understanding of events doesn’t allow us
to predict that one specific thing will necessarily
cause another specific result, Kant agrees. But if Hume is right, he is assuming a notion of
causality that incorporates, or has built into it, a sense of necessity; and that’s Kant’s point.
Our understanding of the world of events brings with it a notion that events have a causal
sequence necessarily built into it. Without bringing with us that concept of causality, we
wouldn’t understand events in the first place. Since Hume recognizes that we understand
events, Kant argues that Hume should recognize that our understanding of events brings
with it a notion of a necessary causal order to those events.

While the argument is challenging, it has, of course, generated much discussion and debate
among philosophers. But for our purposes here, we can at least see that there are responses
to Hume that go beyond simply saying “Hume is right” or “Hume is wrong.” But to go
beyond just indicating agreement or disagreement can require some hard thinking.

Confirmation Theory

Although determining what, if anything, justifies causality is a bit tricky, it is clear we
would be at a loss without using some kind of conception of causality, and doing so with
a great deal of confidence. We avoid, for instance, jogging on interstate highways because
we are quite confident that we will not do well if we are struck by a car or truck traveling
at 65 mph. We probably don’t need a philosopher to tell us that. But assuming we have an
idea of causality that works, we still need to see how we might apply it, and other ideas,
in actually doing science. Perhaps we want to investigate the causal relationship between

Albrecht Weißer/Photolibrary

Did this car window shatter and then
get struck by a crowbar? That’s not
likely. Necessary sequences (crowbar
strikes window, window shatters) are
crucial to our understanding of events.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.3 The Philosophy of Science

sugar intake and diabetes, or whether being good at video games makes one a better pilot.
How do we go about doing so?

Philosophers and scientists will talk in this context of putting forth hypotheses. This then
sets up what you probably know as the scientific method: the scientist puts forth an idea
(or hypothesis), designs an experiment to test it, tests it, determines what the test results
say about the hypothesis, and then uses those results to generate a new hypothesis. The
part of this method we want to look at here is the test itself: How can we know a particular
result shows that our hypothesis is correct (or incorrect)? In the language of the philoso-
phy of science, this is a question about confirmation, and its study is known as confirma-
tion theory. While contemporary discussions of confirmation theory can be very rigorous,
with a substantial amount of statistics and other kinds of mathematics, we will approach
the basics here much more informally.

Let’s assume you want to investigate birds, specifically ravens. This is a famous example
from the philosopher of science Carl Hempel (1905–1997) (Hempel, 1945). You’ve noticed
that a lot of the ravens you’ve observed in the past have been black; you now formu-
late your hypothesis: “All ravens are black.” We won’t define ravens as black, for that
would eliminate this as the kind of claim one would need to test. To test your hypothesis,
you go to an area known for its large population of ravens, take out your binoculars and
notebook, and start making observations. One, then 10, then 100, then 500, then 2,500
ravens are observed; every one of them is black. The question is, then, at what point do we
have enough observations to assert that our claim, all ravens are black, is true? Have we
seen enough? What if the 2,501st raven is white? What if 50,000 ravens are black, but the
50,001st raven is white? Can we ever be certain? If we cannot be certain, at what point are
we certain enough? We could change our claim, of course, and just make our hypothesis:
“Most ravens are black.” But scientists want to test the strongest claims possible, and, in
any case, we would have to settle what “most” means in this context. So that may not
solve the problem entirely.

As is probably clear, this is again a question about inductive arguments; how strong does
the support of a claim have to be before we accept it as true? Earlier we saw the turkey
conclude, on the basis of a very strong inductive argument, that it would be fed when in
fact it became food. Imagine, for instance, a football team that had an enviable winning
streak, of, say, 100 consecutive victories. We probably still wouldn’t say they won’t lose
again: if that were the case, no one would be willing to play them.

As these examples indicate, it is not just the number of confirming instances (such as the
number of black ravens we observe), but the relevance of those instances and the kind of
information they provide. Thus, one might suggest that football teams change over time,
so a team that won 100 consecutive games might, when it plays its 101st game, be a differ-
ent team. These are all factors the scientist must include in considering if a hypothesis is
confirmed, and how strongly it is confirmed.

But there is a famous paradox that arises with our raven example, a paradox that has sug-
gested to some a different approach should be adopted in testing hypotheses. Our origi-
nal hypothesis was H1: “All ravens are black.” Logically, this is said to be equivalent to
the claim H2: “All non-black things are non-ravens”; that is, if H1 is true, H2 is true, and
vice versa (and if H1 is false, H2 is false, and vice versa). This raises a puzzle, however,

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.3 The Philosophy of Science

for if they are logically equivalent, then any observation that confirms one will confirm
the other. We confirmed H1 by observing ravens and seeing that they were black; but it
is much easier—too easy, it turns out—to confirm H2. White pieces of paper, blue tooth-
brushes, yellow bananas, and green shoes are all non-black things, and they are all non-
ravens. But would we really want to say that a pair of green shoes confirms our hypothesis
that all ravens are black? Notice how quickly our observations can be numbered in the
thousands, or hundreds of thousands: look around you and see how many non-black
things there are that are not ravens. Each confirms H2; H2 is equivalent to H1; so each
confirms H1. If we were convinced of the truth that all ravens are black after 2,500 obser-
vations of black ravens, how many more thousands of non-black things can we appeal to
in order to confirm our hypothesis? The problem, of course, is that it seems very odd to
say that green shoes confirm anything about black ravens, but it isn’t entirely clear why,
or what precisely the oddity involved here is.

Considerations such as these led a well-known philosopher, Karl Popper (1902–1994), to
recommend a different approach to confirmation theory. Popper suggested we continue
to put forth our strongest hypotheses, but that we do our best to show that they are false,
or to disconfirm them. Popper described his procedure as putting forth conjectures—bold
claims that went well beyond the evidence—and then seeking to refute those conjectures.
A conjecture (or hypothesis) that can survive this process of actively trying to find coun-
terexamples, or to falsify the conjecture, becomes stronger and stronger the longer it with-
stands this critical attack (Popper, 1963).

Let’s go back to our original example, then. First, we change the hypothesis to one that is
a bit more conjectural, given our current evidence: H3: “All ravens in northern California
are black.” We then travel to northern California to test H3, not by finding confirming
instances but by actively looking for white (or at least non-black) ravens. This focuses our
investigation by allowing us to concentrate on finding counterexamples; the longer we
look for these counterexamples and fail to find one, the stronger H3 becomes. This doesn’t
mean it is true, of course, but on Popper’s view the conjecture becomes increasingly plau-
sible as tests designed to refute it fail.

As we should be able to tell at this point, some of the simplest-sounding ideas can lead to
some puzzling results, whether it is how we know one thing causes another, or how we
determine if a specific observation really makes a given belief more likely. Here we have
just presented some of the outlines of the responses philosophers of science have offered
in thinking about how one does science. Shortly, we will turn to an extended, but specific,
example of an issue within science to see where these various theoretical ideas can start
to make a big difference. But before doing that, we will first look at a famous way of look-
ing at the history of science, its development, and what that development tells us about
science.

Kuhn’s Scientific Revolutions

One of the most famous episodes in the history of science was the trial of Galileo in 1633.
Galileo, having made a number of observations using a relatively new invention, the tele-
scope, concluded that the earth and the other known planets revolved around the sun.
In this way, he affirmed what had been stated earlier by Copernicus, and is known as

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.3 The Philosophy of Science

the heliocentric theory, that the sun is at the cen-
ter of the universe. The heliocentric theory was
opposed to the geocentric view that the earth was
the center of the universe; the geocentric view
was associated with Aristotle, Ptolemy, and the
official doctrine of the Roman Catholic Church.
Thus, to deny the geocentric view was to contra-
dict official Church doctrine. For doing so, Galileo
was arrested, put on trial, and convicted. He was
forced to deny the heliocentric theory and was
placed under house arrest for the remainder of
his life. Several hundred years later, however, the
Catholic Church recognized that Galileo had been
right all along.

We can use the debate over the heliocentric and
geocentric theories to demonstrate a well-known
and influential view of the history of science put

forth by the philosopher and historian of science Thomas Kuhn (1922–1996). The tradi-
tional account of the history of science had been to regard it as a smooth, continuous devel-
opment, allowing scientists to give an account that described some aspect of nature more
and more accurately. Thus, Aristotle had a view of meteors, the objects we sometimes see
enter the atmosphere and burn up as “shooting stars.” Aristotle’s view was replaced by
that of Isaac Newton, and his theory of gravitational attraction; modern physics has con-
tinued to revise (often extensively) Newton’s theory in terms of quantum mechanics and
other discoveries that followed Newton’s era. In this way, then, the modern view is said
to be “better” than the earlier views, and thus science progresses, coming closer and closer
to the truth. Similarly, Galileo’s view is an improvement upon the earlier geocentric view.

Kuhn, essentially, says that this is, for the most part, nonsense. Rather, Kuhn argues that
the history of science should be looked at in a completely different way. In his view, a spe-
cific science generally operates with what he called a “paradigm,” a generally accepted
view of how things work, according to the science of the day. Thus, the geocentric view
would have been the paradigm for most scientists working in astronomy after Aristo-
tle (until Copernicus); Kuhn calls working within this paradigm “normal science.” It is
important to see that, for the most part, the paradigm functions as a set of unquestioned
assumptions; one simply wouldn’t think of challenging it, and the general scientific com-
munity would tend to regard one who did challenge the dominant paradigm either as not
doing science or as being perhaps a bit mad.

But, as we’ve seen, new evidence such as the observations Galileo made with his tele-
scope, and difficulties in explaining certain observations, can lead some scientists to chal-
lenge the paradigm that informs the (normal) science of the day. If sufficiently strong
arguments are put forth, along with solid scientific evidence, a new situation arises, where
one paradigm (that of normal science) confronts a new paradigm (the proposed replace-
ment for that paradigm). The battle between these two views, or paradigms, is called by
Kuhn “revolutionary science.” Often, the reigning or dominant paradigm wins; the chal-
lenge is seen as either not as good, or lacking evidence or argumentative support. But
sometimes, as in the case of the heliocentric view, the new paradigm starts to become the

bilwissedition.com/Photolibrary

Galileo’s view that the sun, and not the
earth, was the center of the universe
landed him under house arrest from
1633 until the end of his life.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.3 The Philosophy of Science

accepted new paradigm. If it becomes the paradigm most scientists adopt, and they begin
using it without question, the period of revolutionary science is over, and science returns
to the situation we saw as normal science, but with a new paradigm informing that sci-
entific worldview. Kuhn sees the history of science as reflecting this sequence of battles
between paradigms, arising sporadically and unpredictably, while most of that history is
informed by the paradigms of the normal science within which work most scientists most
of the time.

Kuhn’s view, most famously presented in his 1962 book The Structure of Scientific Rev-
olutions, has been enormously influential, interestingly enough, in disciplines other
than those of natural science, such as the social sciences and literary theory. Philoso-
phers have also been intrigued by Kuhn’s thesis, particularly in one of its implications.
For Kuhn, two paradigms—say, those that inform the geocentric and the heliocentric
view—are said to be incommensurable (more or less, impossible to compare). That is,
the worldview expressed in terms of one paradigm is completely and fundamentally
distinct from the worldview of an opposing paradigm. So when Aristotle referred to the
earth, and Galileo referred to the earth, they were really talking about the earth in radi-
cally distinct ways, so radical that one might say they were talking about two different
planets. For Kuhn, all our explanations come within our theories, so all those explana-
tions we think are correct are relative to the dominant paradigm that guides our think-
ing. Because our theories are dependent upon the language we use to express them, if
we are using a language in one paradigm that is incommensurable with the language of
another paradigm, it seems to some that those languages described two distinct worlds.
There is no “common language” to discuss both of them because the languages involved
are relevant to the very paradigms fighting it out with each other. To put it bluntly, if
Aristotle and Einstein, for instance, sat down at lunch to discuss physics, the world
Aristotle would describe would be a completely distinct world from the one Einstein
would describe.

This view, sometimes called anti-realism, seems to be a bit far-fetched at first, but as is
often the case, it is easier to say that it is wrong than to show that it is wrong. In any case,
philosophers, scientists, and many others have debated some of these implications since
the publication of Kuhn’s book. Kuhn, for his part, eventually came to reject some of the
radical relativism that some saw implied in his account. That is, if a claim is true only
within the framework of a paradigm and the language of that paradigm, and two para-
digms are incommensurable, then one can’t really say one claim is true. One must say a
claim is true relative to a given paradigm, and Kuhn himself rejects the idea that one can
assert that one paradigm is “true”: paradigms are successful if they work and are scientifi-
cally productive. Indeed, the very word “true” in this account may be relative to a para-
digm. Although Kuhn did not fully embrace some of these metaphysical implications of
his view, as is often the case in the history of ideas, the parent of an idea has little control
over what others may do with it.

Science and Philosophy

If we return to our commonsense view of things, it seems that we might well say that we
are pretty clear about a number of things: we know when something causes some other

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.3 The Philosophy of Science

thing, we know when we have sufficient reason to believe some claim is true (or false),
and we know that science has continually gotten better and better at describing the world.

Philosophers then seem to come along and confuse this whole picture. We may think
gravity causes the tides to come in and go out; the philosopher wants to know if this isn’t
just a habit, or expectation, we have because we’ve seen it so often before. We know that
turtles are slow; but the philosopher wants know how we rule out the possibility of really
speedy turtles. We know that Aristotle and Ptolemy were wrong, and that Galileo was
right, and that the earth revolves around the sun; the philosopher wants to know how we
are so certain that the dominant paradigm might not shift, leaving us to look as foolish
about this as we think earlier thinkers did.

Of course, the philosopher is (probably) not say-
ing that we can’t use the idea of causality with
confidence, that we can’t rely on our observa-
tions to give us good solid information about
the world, or that we have considerably more
sophisticated accounts of the world from the
science of our day than earlier eras did. The
philosopher, as usual, represents that annoy-
ing little voice asking, “Why?” Can we explain
these notions of causality, evidence, and sci-
entific “progress”? Can we develop defensible
theories that fit the evidence and provide ways
to continue to do productive research? Can we
respond to the skeptics, and the cynics, and jus-
tify our methods of science, while demonstrat-
ing that other kinds of claims do not qualify as
scientific? Those are the challenges philosophers
pose to scientists, and while a working scientist
may be able to ignore them while in the labora-

tory or in the field, most scientists regard responding to these challenges as an obliga-
tion the scientist must, ultimately, satisfy.

We can look at this from a different direction by considering the daily horoscope. Many
newspapers and Web sites carry columns on astrology; most of us in the West are familiar
enough with astrology to know how to answer if someone asks, “What’s your sign?” One
day you open up the newspaper to read your horoscope. Would we regard its prediction
as “scientific”? If so, how much confidence do we have in the prediction? If not, can we
say why we find such predictions to be more like entertainment than science? Philoso-
phers have offered, over the years, criteria that a claim has to meet to qualify as scientific.

Typically, for a claim to qualify as scientific it has to be consistent (a claim must at least
be able to be true), be falsifiable and testable (we can determine what would be involved
for the claim not to be true, and how we could actually test it), and require as few extra
details or ad hoc (specific details relative to the claim) additions as possible—the simplest
explanation, all other things being equal, is the preferred explanation.

Tetra Images/Photolibrary

While scientists run tests to prove their
theories, philosophers still challenge
their findings as being absolute truths.

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CHAPTER 3Section

3.4 Controversies in Science

Imagine you are a Sagittarius (born between November 22 and December 21), and your
horoscope were to say something like “You will take a trip over water”—although this
seems plausible, it is virtually impossible for it not to be true. It is almost certainly the case
that at some time, during the remainder of your life, you will indeed take a trip over water.
Nor is it clear how we could test such a claim to show it is not true. Astrologers are aware of
this, of course, and thus tend to make claims that sound plausible, seem informative, but yet
can’t really be tested or ever shown to be false. An astrologer who makes predictions such
as “You will inherit a million dollars this week” or “You will be married within the next two
months” is very likely to be making predictions that could turn out to be false. This is bad
for business. It is a much better strategy to make predictions that can’t turn out to be false:
“You will meet someone interesting,” “You should listen to well-intentioned advice from
loved ones,” or “Financial issues could come up between you and a friend.” (These are all
actual examples, by the way.) These are interesting and perhaps provocative claims, but
because it is difficult to determine how any of them could be shown to be false, they aren’t
scientific claims. As some have suggested, and for these reasons, astrology is related to sci-
ence much like professional wrestling is related to competitive sports.

Thus, we see that philosophers do, in fact, have some contributions to make to the practice
of science, and how to evaluate a claim as scientific or not. There is no guarantee that a sci-
entific claim that is consistent, is testable, is not falsifiable, and doesn’t require additional
ad hoc details will be a “good” scientific claim. But we can be pretty confident that a claim
that fails to meet these criteria won’t be of much use as a part of doing genuine science.

3.4 Controversies in Science

We’ve seen a fair bit of the theory, as well as some of the jargon, that philosophers have developed in looking at science and the procedures and results science has generated. We will now look at a particular issue within the history of philosophy
of science, the battle between those who advocate a necessarily supernatural component
to their explanations of life (Creationism and Intelligent Design), and those who do not so
advocate (evolutionary theorists). This is, of course, an extremely controversial set of issues,
but rather than trying to settle the debate here, the basic arguments for each will be pre-
sented before looking at some more general responses to the controversy as a whole.

Creationism

There are a number of accounts of the origins of life on earth, and how it came to have
the remarkable diversity it has. One need only consider some of the odder representatives
of the natural world—the duck-billed platypus, the Venus flytrap, the blobfish—to see
that some sort of explanation might be needed. In the Western tradition, specifically that
informed by Judaism and Christianity, such an explanation has been rooted in the Bible.
Here we will look at one specific interpretation of the Bible that has been very influential
historically, called Young Earth Creationism (YEC). The idea here is to present, rather
than evaluate, its arguments, specifically in supporting it as an alternative to evolutionary
theory.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.4 Controversies in Science

Young Earth Creationism takes as its central text
the book of Genesis from the Hebrew Bible, and
seeks to show that geological, biological, and
other kinds of observations are consistent with
Genesis and confirm the claims made there. While
the YEC arguments can be complex, they draw
these conclusions:

1. The earth and the rest of the universe
were created by God, sometime in the
past 10,000 years.

2. The fundamental event on earth was
the flood involving Noah (the Noachian
flood), and this event took a matter of
years to determine the fundamental
characteristics of the earth. This is often
referred to as catastrophism.

3. The animals that survived the Noachian flood gave rise to the animals on earth;
some creationists accept that there is microevolution, or small changes among
animals, while others do not. All assert that the origin of life and of the major
groups of animals and plants arose though a specific and original act of God,
namely, Creation.

Corresponding to these conclusions in support of YEC are objections to other views, par-
ticularly evolutionary theory.

1. The fossil record is incomplete and contains a number of gaps between forms; if
evolutionary theory is correct, these “intermediate forms” should be present.

2. Evolutionary theory cannot explain the origins of life or how complex organic life
(such as plants and animals) arose from relatively simple inorganic molecules.

3. The Second Law of Thermodynamics states that the order and organization of
a system (sometimes called its entropy) will increase over time; yet evolution-
ary theory seems to violate this law, by claiming that systems have shown an
increase in order and organization.

YEC takes as its basic text the book of Genesis and regards it, and the Word of God, as
undeniably and literally true. YEC argues that not only is it consistent with the evidence
from the geological and biological world, but that this evidence, in fact, supports YEC. At
the same time, that evidence either conflicts with evolutionary theory (as interpreted by
creationists) or demonstrates that evolutionary theory cannot account for some things,
such as the origin of life, that YEC can address satisfactorily. As such, YEC presents itself
as a thoroughly scientific doctrine that can be used to interpret the natural world, reveal-
ing that world as the result of a single, unique act of Creation.

There are, of course, other interpretations of Creationism than that of YEC. For instance,
Old Earth Creationism (OEC) accepts the basic idea that God created the universe but
did so much earlier than YEC proposes. There are, in fact, different versions of OEC, such
as Gap Creationism, which argues that there was a “gap” between the formation of the
universe (including earth) and the creation of human life. Day Age Creationism reads the

J. L. Klein & M. L. Hubert/Photolibrary

It is often said that the duck-billed
platypus is “proof that God has a sense
of humor”; however, some argue that
the species is proof of Creationism.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.4 Controversies in Science

claim in Genesis, that God created the world in six days, as involving a notion of “day”
that is not a standard 24-hour day, but days that might each be hundreds of thousands, or
even millions, of years long. There are still other interpretations within the general view
known as Creationism, but all share the basic idea that the origin of the universe, the ori-
gin of life on earth, and the diversity of that life all require a special and supernatural act
of Creation from God.

Intelligent Design

The idea that the universe, and more specifically life on earth, indicates a sophisticated
complexity that could not have arisen by accident is a very old idea, which can be found
as far back as Plato. It can also be found in the writings of St. Thomas Aquinas (1225–
1274), but its most famous version is probably that given by William Paley (1743–1805)
in 1802, who argues, more or less, the following. If we were hiking in the woods and ran
across a stone in our path, we would have little doubt that the stone could have gotten
there by very ordinary ways; perhaps the stone rolled down the hill and stopped in the
path (Paley, 2009). But if we found a watch in our path, we would be quite sure that, due
to its complexity and design, it had to be intentionally designed. No watch could have
just accidentally arisen, but it needed a watchmaker to engineer or design it. If one then
considers the natural world, for instance the way bats successfully navigate by sound
(known as echolocation), or the remarkable and undeniable complexity of something
such as the human eye (let alone the human brain), these things are considerably more
sophisticated than a mere watch. Thus, if a watch can’t arise naturally and acciden-
tally, but needs a designer, then the world itself, which shows infinitely more complex-
ity than a watch, must need an infinitely greater
designer than a mere watchmaker: namely, God.
This argument traditionally has been called the
argument from design, but it has taken on new
life in recent years, defended by those who wish
to deny that evolution can provide a satisfactory
explanation of the natural world, a world that
shows such a high level of design that it could
not have occurred accidentally. This is the view
known as Intelligent Design (ID).

The proponents of ID generally focus, as might
be expected, on the complex systems found in
nature, arguing that they could arise only by
intentional design. Two distinct kinds of com-
plexity are identified, “irreducible complexity”
and “specified complexity.” We can look at these
in that order.

Irreducible Complexity
Irreducible complexity simply identifies organisms, or parts of organisms, that have intricate
parts that must work together as a whole in order to function. The biochemist Michael
Behe (b. 1952) is most closely associated with the argument from irreducible complexity;

Stapleton Historical Collection/Photolibrary

Clarence Darrow and William Jennings
Bryant from the so called Scopes Mon-
key Trial.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.4 Controversies in Science

Behe proposes the analogy of a mousetrap to make the point. A mousetrap has various
parts (the base, the catch, the spring, the hammer, and the hold-down bar), all of which
must work together to function. If any one of these is removed, the mousetrap is useless.
Behe presents detailed and informed examples from the natural world—particularly at
the level of biology and biochemistry—that reveals the same kind of irreducible complex-
ity, arguing that such features as blood clotting, or an organism’s immune response when
fighting disease, simply couldn’t have arisen without being put together the right way at
the beginning. All the parts have to be there at the beginning; if they are not, the system
cannot function. Thus, Behe argues that this kind of complex design requires some sort of
designer, although he is generally unwilling to identify this proposed designer as God or
a specific supernatural, intelligent being.

Specified Complexity
Specified complexity is a second feature that, according to ID, indicates the need for a
designer. Specified complexity shows that (a) there is a pattern that can be briefly described
(this makes it specified) and (b) it is very unlikely, in terms of probability, that this pat-
tern occurs. Thus, if a sequence or pattern is seen that seems unlikely—very unlikely—to
have emerged accidentally, the need for a designer is, again, indicated. William Dembski
(b. 1960), who is often credited for this idea, gives a clear example of what he means by
“specified complexity” by using the letters of the alphabet. A single letter of the alphabet
in Dembski’s use of the term is specified, but not complex, whereas a whole string of ran-
dom letters is complex, but not specified. Thus, C, as specified but not complex, conforms
to an independent pattern and is easily described, whereas CBCNJFXDXDV, as complex
but not specified, doesn’t conform to an independent pattern but would require compli-
cated instructions to generate that specific sequence of letters. Dembski then argues that
a poem—say a sonnet by Shakespeare—is both specified and complex, and thus indicates
a designer (or author). Since thousands of monkeys clattering away on computers could
not produce a Shakespearean sonnet (or it is, at least, highly unlikely), if there are simi-
larly specified complexities in nature, an author (or Creator) of that specified complexity
is needed. Dembski points out that such things as complex molecules, and DNA—the
very building blocks of life—exhibit this kind of specified complexity, and thus require
intentional design, and a designer, to produce it. Dembski, unlike Behe, seems much more
willing to identify this designer as God.

There are other aspects to the arguments for ID, such as the fine-tuning argument. This
view points out that various constants in the mathematical equations that physics uses to
describe the world, including the forces that hold together the atom and the gravitational
attraction between objects, are very precise numbers. Were these numbers changed, just
slightly, the world as we know it would be so different that we might well not be here to
know it. Those who advocate this argument suggest that the fine-tuning of these math-
ematical features of the world requires a fine-tuner, or God. Many of the ID arguments,
including those of Behe and Dembski, also introduce very sophisticated mathematical
and scientific techniques: all point to the fact that evolutionary biology cannot explain
either irreducible or specified complexity; if the fine-tuning argument is correct, it also
cannot explain how we are here in the first place.

While there is a good bit of agreement between YEC and ID, in that both argue that an
adequate explanation of the universe and its contents demand introducing some external

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.4 Controversies in Science

feature, such as God, a creator, or a designer, there is a good bit of disagreement as well.
Many, if not most, of those who advocate ID do not accept the YEC claim that the earth
is 10,000 years old (or less); many do not accept the YEC view that the Bible is literally
true and must be taken to be the fundamental source for, and check on, what science can
discover. Young Earth Creationists can also be seen to object to ID in that its conception of
a designer is too abstract, and not sufficiently close to the YEC conception of a personal
God. Yet one thing does unite, above all else, YEC and ID, and that is their opposition to
evolutionary theory.

Evolutionary Theory

In 1859, Charles Darwin (1809–1882) published On the Origin of Species. Darwin’s book is
almost without a doubt discussed much more than it is read. Here we will briefly describe
Darwin’s basic view, how it has been developed by evolutionary biologists in the 150
years since he published it, and give at least a brief response to the objections to it that
have been made by YEC and ID.

The fundamental ideas of evolutionary theory
are, in fact, fairly simple. Organisms compete in
a specific environment, or niche, for food, shel-
ter, other resources, and mates. Those who are
the most successful at obtaining these will pass
on their genes to a larger number than will their
competitors. Let A and B be competitors: perhaps
A is just a bit stronger than B. A’s offspring (a) will
get A’s gene’s, and because A is more successful
at gaining access to resources than B, there will be
more a’s than there will be b’s. Thus, A’s genes, in
all the little a’s, will become much more numer-
ous than B’s genes, in all the little b’s. Biologists
say that given this environment and competitive
scenario, A’s genes were selected for relative to B’s.
It is important to notice that this is not to say A
is better than B, or that being A is progress relative
to being B; it is only that A was more successful
than B, in that specific competitive niche, in get-
ting more copies of its genes reproduced than B.

Using that, and adding two other features, gives
a pretty good idea of what evolutionary theory
states. These two features are (1) billions, or even
trillions, or more, of reproductive events—each
plant and animal producing offspring—and (2) a
very, very long time. Geologists date the earth as
being approximately 4.5 billion years old—a very
long time. Some microbial remains have been dis-
covered that are 3.5 billion years old, meaning that these competitive struggles have been
going on for at least that long. With a lot of time, and a lot of competition for resources—and

Fotosearch Value/Photolibrary

Evolutionary theory, which is dis-
cussed in Darwin’s The Origin of Spe-
cies, provides an explanation for how
some species, like the giant Galapagos
tortoise, have evolved to support their
incredible longevity. Some live to be
150 years old!

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.4 Controversies in Science

a lot of reproduction—various organisms have arisen. Some have been very successful for
quite a while and then gone extinct, such as the dinosaur; others have been very successful
and continue to be, such as beetles. (Scientists estimate there are between 5 million and 8
million species of beetles, an enormous number of which have not even been named.) There
is also a species that is relatively recent and currently seems to be quite successful at gain-
ing access to resources relative to its competitors. This species seems to have branched off
from an ancestor it shared with another evolutionary branch, the great apes, approximately
6.5 million years ago. Gorillas, chimpanzees, baboons, and bonobos developed along one
branch; along the other branch developed a different genus, leading to various species. A
relatively recent species along this branch had, among other things, a large brain, an abil-
ity to walk upright, and the power to use language in such a way that it proved, within its
competitive environmental niche, very successful. This species is, of course, what we call
human beings, or Homo sapiens. Evolutionary biologists can use DNA analysis and other
techniques to date when this common ancestor gave rise to two distinct branches; a good
indicator of that common ancestor is the fact that human beings and chimpanzees share
about 96 percent of the same DNA. One can compare that to the genetic difference between
mice and rats, which is ten times greater than that between human beings and chimpanzees.

While one often hears the phrase “survival of the fittest” as a slogan to describe Darwin’s
basic view, most biologists avoid using it (in part because it wasn’t Darwin’s own phrase)
and instead speak of “natural selection” or “descent with modification.” Two mechanisms
provide the changes in an organism along a path of children, grandchildren, and so on: by
recombining genes (thus, a child will receive part of its genetic makeup from its mother, and
part from its father) and through mutations that occur randomly. Over time, the genetic
makeup of a group will thus change, if only slightly. But if one of those changes gives a
competitive advantage, it will be selected for: that is, that advantage will become more
common, relative to competitors, and thus more offspring will be produced, also having
that advantage. A slightly oversimplified example gives the basic idea: imagine a group
of rabbits and a fox. The fox wants to eat the rabbit, the rabbit wants to avoid being eaten
by the fox. Within this population of rabbits, perhaps due to a particular combination of
parents or a mutation, a rabbit develops the ability to run just a bit faster than the other
rabbits. The fast rabbit is, then, less likely to be caught by the fox and will live on to have
more children than the relatively slower rabbits. It’s good to keep in mind the fact that to
avoid being caught, the rabbit that survives only needs to be faster than another rabbit.
The combination that gave rise to this slight increase in speed will, then, be passed on to
that rabbit’s children, and that competitive advantage will become more common: It will
be selected for.

Since Darwin originally published his revolutionary work, two important additions have
made evolutionary theory considerably more sophisticated, leading to rich and produc-
tive fields of research in biology, genetics, medicine, and even economics and anthro-
pology. These additions—a rigorous explanation of the mechanism of the gene and the
application of mathematics—gave rise to what is now called the neo-Darwinian synthesis.
Darwin was unaware of the actual mechanism through which information was passed
genetically from parent to child, a discovery for which Gregor Mendel (1822–1884) gets
credit. Understanding this mechanism, and using mathematical models and techniques
to describe it, transformed biology into the science we know today. To return to the ter-
minology of Thomas Kuhn: The neo-Darwinian description of descent with modification
functions is the basic paradigm for contemporary biology and its sub-disciplines.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.4 Controversies in Science

We can now see how the evolutionary theorist can respond to the criticisms of both YEC
and ID.

Fossil Record
Even though these debates continue, becom-
ing both more scientifically sophisticated and
often more vicious, the evolutionary biologist’s
response can at least be outlined here. The biolo-
gist admits that the fossil record is incomplete;
this is unsurprising, given the age of fossils and
the conditions that must be met for them to sur-
vive for us to discover. The biologist will also
point out how rich the fossil record in fact is, with
a large number of fossils that preserve precisely
the developmental sequence evolutionary theory
predicts. But the real issue here is whether this
is a fair objection to begin with. We can use the
example of the horse, and let an ancient form of
the horse be Fossil One and the modern horse be
Fossil Fifty. Between these are many possible fos-
sils, which would show evolutionary changes.
But between any two fossils there will always be
the possibility of a form in between them. Thus,
Fossil Ten might be a transitional fossil, and Fossil Twelve a distinct transitional fossil:
but there is “missing” Fossil Eleven. The evolutionary theorist can point to a long and
surprisingly complete set of fossils, but unless a perfectly continuous set of fossils can be
presented, there will always be “gaps” in the fossil record. This isn’t surprising, but the
biologist points to the strength of the evidence and how each new fossil discovery has
been fit into this pattern. The real question is whether it is fair to object to gaps but then,
when those gaps are filled, change the objection to a new set of “gaps.”

Origin of Life
Most biologists agree that they do not have an account of the origin of life for a simple,
and perhaps compelling, reason: that isn’t a question that necessarily arises within biol-
ogy. Evolutionary biologists, to put it simply, deal with life once it began, not with how it
began. There are certainly biologists, and many others, who speculate and theorize about
the origins of life. How life began is a fascinating question and has been explored by
philosophers, theologians, and scientists at least since Aristotle. There is even a term for
such study, abiogenesis. But these investigations are still quite speculative compared to
other fields within biology, and most evolutionary biologists recognize that fact. In short,
it seems about as fair to complain that evolutionary theory can’t explain the origins of life
as it is to complain that Michael Jordan wasn’t a good painter.

Gene & Karen Rhoden/Photolibrary

Philosophers don’t think that an organ-
ism requiring several working parts
to function is sufficent evidence that
a designer was involved. A tornado
requires several working factors to
occur, yet people would hardly argue
that a tornado is designed.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.4 Controversies in Science

Law of Thermodynamics
Creationists invoke the Second Law of Thermodynamics, noting that it states that things
always go from order to disorder, while evolutionary theory seems to claim the opposite,
and that order increases. But this law refers to what is known as a closed state, in which
no new energy is being introduced. Earth, on the other hand, is an open state, because the
sun constantly introduces new energy. Thus, the Second Law doesn’t really apply to the
earth, and order can increase within an open state. In fact, we see it all the time; it is, for
instance, what occurs when a disorganized system of water gives rise to very ordered and
structured patterns we call “snowflakes.”

Complexity Needs a Designer
The ID complaint that complexity—irreducible or specified—requires a designer has
generated a good bit of discussion, some of it quite technical, but the basic evolution-
ary response is to point out that all sorts of complex systems, such as weather patterns,
arise from natural sources. A tornado, for instance, works only if all the parts are there
together in order to make the tornado possible. But we probably don’t think the tornado
was therefore designed. The more general point is that evolutionary change is not, as it is
sometimes presented, random. Rather, there are severe selection pressures on organisms.
An advantage is selected for or against, and in nature, being selected against often means
death and the end of reproduction. While some genetic changes may be random, whether
they are successful or not will be determined by the environment: rewarded by success at
gaining resources and reproducing, punished by starvation, less reproduction, and death.
Harshly, but effectively, that procedure rewards structures that are more successful, often
meaning better “designed.” But it is only in looking at the finished product that a natu-
rally occurring process gives the appearance of having been designed.

Science and Religion as Separate Spheres

While the debate between evolutionary theorists and those who oppose them continues
to rage, others have stepped into the fray to suggest that those engaged in this dispute
fail to recognize that they are talking at cross-purposes. That is, science has its legitimate
area, and religion has its legitimate area. Science should talk about observable facts, con-
firmable theories, empirical evidence, and so on; within its area of expertise are things
like atoms, amino acids, bacteria, and stars. Religion should talk about issues of moral-
ity, faith, God, and so on; within its area of expertise are things like the soul, the afterlife,
angels, and turning the other cheek. In this view, one should no more use scientific meth-
ods to investigate issues of religion than one should use religious concepts to provide
scientific claims. In short, we ought no more to ask what role faith plays in the structure of
a molecule than we would ask how much the human soul weighs.

The evolutionary biologist Stephen Jay Gould (1941–2002) is perhaps best known for
popularizing this view, which he describes in terms of magisteria and insists that one
should not interfere with the other, a view he called NOMA, for Nonoverlapping Mag-
isteria (Gould, 1997). Science is one magisterium; religion is another. For Gould, if they
are careful not to overstep their own boundaries, those who operate in the two magisteria
can have respectful and productive conversations with each other, and each has much to

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.4 Controversies in Science

learn from the other. Gould insists that scientists must recognize that many of life’s most
important questions cannot be answered by science alone, but he, along with many other
scientists, also wants it to be recognized that religion should not attempt to address legiti-
mate scientific claims with techniques that fall outside the magisterium of science. A quick
way of putting the distinction is that the magisterium of science should stick to claims
that involve “is,” while the magisterium of religion should stick to claims that involve
“ought.”

More recently, Gould’s idea has been endorsed
by Karen Armstrong (b. 1944), who claims that
while God is fundamentally unknowable, what is
crucial to religious faith is how people act, rather
than what they know or believe. She characterizes
Gould’s magisteria in terms of factual knowledge
(provided by science) and the more general mean-
ing that factual knowledge can help offer (Arm-
strong, 2009). Thus, science might tell us that a
beloved friend died from a specific cause, but it is
the other magisterium—of faith, or belief, or reli-
gion—that tells us how we can understand that
death and gain some meaning from it. Science,
that is, can tell us the what, but religion or spiritu-
ality often provides the profound and meaningful
responses to “why?”

Clearly this kind of compromise between science and religion will be rejected by those
who advocate YEC, and almost all of those who advocate ID. YEC insists that nature itself
was created intentionally by a personal God, whose activities are described specifically
in Genesis and elsewhere in the Bible. In that view, both the origins of the natural world
and how we can understand it must be informed by the Bible. To neglect that information
is a recipe for guaranteed failure, for both science and religion. In a similar way, because
ID requires a designer, then the magisterium of science has to include that designer in its
scientific explanations, and thus there can be no plausible scientific account that does not
overlap, extensively, with the magisterium of faith and religion. Both YEC and ID, that is,
insist that to separate religion and science does irreparable harm to our understanding
of both because religion informs our scientific understanding just as our science comple-
ments our religious understanding.

But objections have also been raised against Gould’s conception of nonoverlapping mag-
isteria by scientists. These tend to fall into two distinct categories, but both suggest that
the idea that these magisteria can identify which questions belong only to one or the
other magisterium isn’t very plausible. The first objection is that science has a great deal
to say about certain important issues that are central to religion. One might, for instance,
consider miracles. From the perspective of natural science, people cannot walk on water,
nor can they bring the dead back to life. Clearly enough, if one adopts that perspective,
then the idea of the ministry of Jesus looks considerably different than it does from a more
traditional religious perspective. Consequently, when one magisterium has something of
relevance for the other to consider (or refute), they can no longer be regarded as “non-
overlapping.” The second objection raises the same point, but from a different direction;
namely, YEC and ID refuse to allow science to do its work without having to respond to

Ton Koene/Photolibrary

Some writers claim science aims to
answer the “what?”question, whereas
religion seeks to answer “why?”

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.4 Controversies in Science

its criticisms, criticisms that the scientist may well regard as fundamentally religious in
nature. A scientist may wish to explore evolution, but if that exploration suggests results
that conflict with the idea of special creation as described in Genesis, it will conflict with
YEC. If a scientist wishes to explore how a bacterium moves around and suggests that
it is the result of natural selection, this can conflict with one of Michael Behe’s favor-
ite examples of irreducible complexity, and thus conflict with ID. So, on the one hand,
the magisterium of faith is confronted by the magisterium of science, while, on the other
hand, the magisterium of science is forced to confront the magisterium of faith. In both
cases, it seems that the two magisteria are intricately involved with each other, which is
quite a bit different than Gould’s (and Armstrong’s) claim—or desire—that each is inde-
pendent of the other, and each can successfully allow the other to focus exclusively on its
own legitimate area.

How to Disagree

As mentioned earlier, philosophers sometimes
resemble children in their insistence on asking
“why?” and seeming never to be satisfied with an
answer, but always responding to every answer
with another “why?” There is the temptation
to tell the philosopher to shut up, or to ignore
any objections and remain satisfied with what
one thinks, knows, and believes. But philoso-
phy requires us to at least consider objections to
our beliefs because we all know that sometimes
we make mistakes and that preventing those
mistakes can be extremely helpful. Whether we
decide, in the long run, that we are willing to
scrutinize and criticize our own beliefs—as well
as those of others—may be an indication of our
taste for philosophical inquiry. But even those
who run screaming from the room when the

word “philosophy” is mentioned will have to admit that looking at our beliefs critically
is both useful and often the only way we learn things: even if we learn only that we
might, on occasion, be mistaken.

This means that philosophy is full of disagreements and full of arguments. In some ways
the philosopher should emulate the eternally inquisitive child, always being curious and
always wanting to know more, but it is probably not a good idea to follow the standard
5-year-old’s model of argument, which looks something like the following:

A: My brother can beat up your brother.

B: No he can’t.

A: Yes he can.

B: No he can’t.

A: Yes he can, infinity.

Uli Pfeiffer/Photolibrary

It’s important to explain disagreements
rather than simply exclaim why the
other point of view is wrong. Other-
wise, arguments can turn ugly pretty
quickly.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.4 Controversies in Science

This really isn’t a good model for a philosopher to follow (not to mention probably not a
very important philosophical view to be arguing about). Are there better approaches to
disagreements and arguments than this model?

Although one would hope this to be the case, passions run high in these disagreements.
For instance, the eminent biologist Richard Dawkins has said, “In order not to believe
in evolution you must either be ignorant, stupid or insane” (Gilder, 2001). That doesn’t
sound very respectful, but one of his opponents, William Dembski, has characterized
Dawkins as “virulently against religion of any stripe and uses evolution as a club to beat
religious believers” (Humes, 2007).

Those who comment in the more popular media about these issues are, if anything, more
direct. Thus, Sam Harris, a well-known atheist and defender of evolutionary theory, has
commented that “there is no worldview more reprehensible in its arrogance than that of a
religious believer” (Harris, 2006). On the other hand, Phyllis Schlafly, who defends teach-
ing Creationism in public schools, notes “Darwin’s influence on Hitler’s political world-
view, and Hitler’s rejection of the sacredness of human life” (Schlafly, 2008), thus implying
some significant connection between evolutionary biology and Hitler. While using bigger
words, this way of disagreeing may not be much of an improvement over the 5-year-old’s
model we hoped to avoid.

Clearly enough, passions run high in disagreements over religion, science, and the rela-
tionship between the two. But if a few rules are observed, these disagreements can be
considerably more productive, and rather than generating more hostility between those
debating, it may result in mutual respect. Although this may not always happen, it is
a good thing to keep in mind when discussing philosophical issues, particularly those
that have the potential to challenge people’s most important beliefs, and therefore where
people’s feelings are most easily hurt. Here are some suggestions, then, to make such con-
versations less hostile and more productive.

1. Remember that an argument does not have to be a confrontation. Presumably,
those arguing should be more interested in finding out the correct answer, if pos-
sible, than just winning the argument.

2. Be nice. As obvious as that may sound, you have a better chance of a useful
encounter by being pleasant and relaxed, rather than entering into a conversation
bristling and nasty.

3. Be fair. If you make a mistake, recognize it. If you make a factual error, concede
the point and determine how it affects the overall argument; if the issue is one
of interpretation, spell out the relevant meanings of terms and explain how the
argument, or its conclusion, might still be saved.

4. Have a sense of humor. It should be remembered that the conversation is simply
that, and one must keep it in perspective.

5. Be willing to concede another’s point. If your opponent defeats you in an argu-
ment, recognize it rather than dogmatically persisting in trying to defend the
indefensible.

6. Back up claims. If you make a factual or evidence-based claim, provide some sup-
port for it by offering some indication why someone should accept your claim.

7. Be consistent. If you argue for a particular position on the basis of specific
claims, you should stick to those claims or say why you have changed them.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.4 Controversies in Science

8. State things clearly. It takes only a small amount of time to proofread your work
to spot typographical errors, mistakes, clumsy expressions, incoherent claims,
logical gaps, and other problems.

9. Be succinct. If a point can be made in a sentence or a paragraph, don’t use two or
three. But don’t be so brief as to leave out important information.

One might use the Golden Rule to sum these rules up: you should argue with someone
in the way you would like them to argue with you. That means taking the other person
seriously and keeping the argument focused on the issues involved. Following these rules
won’t change the fact that there is a disagreement involved; respecting someone is very
different from agreeing with that person. But if you stick to the issues there is much less
chance of the argument becoming nothing more than an exchange of insults.

Conclusions from a Controversy

Undoubtedly, the debate among evolutionary
biologists, creationists, and advocates of Intelli-
gent Design will continue. As we have seen, some
have suggested a way out of this debate by divid-
ing scientific questions from religious and spiri-
tual questions into magisteria; we have also seen
objections to how this could even be done. These
objections have been made by various members of
those engaging in this dispute. A second way out
of this, which is similar in some ways to Gould’s
proposal of Nonoverlapping Magisteria, involves
the notion of naturalism and distinguishes ques-
tions that should be treated following what is called
methodological naturalism. Methodological natu-
ralism is the view that all explanations one seeks
should be based on natural explanations; given

some phenomenon to explain—whether why litmus paper turns red when dipped into an
acid or whether there are ghosts—the methodological naturalist seeks explanations from
nature and the laws of nature. Imagine you go to see an amazing magician, and he proceeds
to make a volunteer from the audience disappear before your eyes. It is, of course, pos-
sible that the magician has done exactly that and genuinely possesses powers that violate
the laws of nature as we understand them. It is also possible that you were fooled by some
sleight of hand or some trick. The methodological naturalist proceeds upon the assump-
tion that the laws of nature are not violated very often—if ever—and seeks an explanation
in terms of everything else nature has seemed to indicate about people, about magic, and
about illusions. Assuming some natural explanation is discovered, you decide that it is
much more likely that the magician fooled you rather than actually made a person disap-
pear before your eyes.

To go from the claim that this is how we should proceed in our scientific investigations—
adopting methodological naturalism—to the further claim that there are no other explana-
tions available is to take a second step, and so propose a worldview known as metaphysi-
cal naturalism. Metaphysical naturalism is the idea that nature is all there is, and that

Shi Wei/Photolibrary

Wonders of the world, such as the
Great Wall of China, are certainly eas-
ier to explain than the purported occur-
rence of miracles.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.4 Controversies in Science

any explanation that requires something beyond or outside of nature—something super-
natural—has to be false. Many scientists accept methodological naturalism while either
rejecting, or being unwilling to accept, metaphysical naturalism. But it is easy to get the
two confused.

Imagine someone going back to the 1300s with a battery-operated DVD player and televi-
sion monitor. Even the most learned and brilliant people of that era would regard what
was being shown as “miraculous.” Yet we know that—other than going back in time—no
laws of nature were violated, and that there was no miracle involved, just some very
sophisticated technology that wouldn’t be invented until many hundreds of years later.
The methodological naturalist may not be able to give the explanation in terms of nature
and its laws but will assume there is one to be discovered. A methodological naturalist
may well think that the evidence for a miracle can be explained in terms of nature, and
that once we have that explanation, we may not be willing to call it a “miracle.” But he or
she will not reject a miracle as a possibility; the metaphysical naturalist, on the other hand,
will deny the very possibility of a miracle. One simply adopts a method (the methodologi-
cal naturalist), whereas the other adopts an assumption about what the world is really like
(the metaphysical naturalist).

It is important to keep these two views distinct, even though some critics of evolutionary
biology regard them as the same. The difference, although a bit subtle at first, is very sig-
nificant. The methodological naturalist will not rule out supernatural forces (God, angels,
etc.) but will seek to provide an explanation without using them. The metaphysical natu-
ralist will rule out supernatural forces, and so not only doesn’t use such things as God
and angels in providing an explanation but will assert that they do not, and cannot, exist.
Adopting methodological naturalism does not, however, require adopting metaphysical
naturalism.

Evolutionary biology does adopt methodological naturalism, and although many biolo-
gists are atheists and agnostics, many also believe in God and follow traditional religious
doctrines. The idea sketched here offers a somewhat different approach to these issues
than does Gould’s use of magisteria. Here we have more of a philosophical view that
when one does science, one does not use supernatural explanations if natural explana-
tions are available. But that does not imply that such supernatural things do not, or can-
not, exist.

To return to the influential terminology of Thomas Kuhn: Evolutionary biology—descent
with modification, or natural selection—is unquestionably the reigning paradigm in con-
temporary biology, and the various disciplines that rely on its results. Working within this
paradigm, biologists and scientists in associated fields have accomplished many remark-
able things: discovered penicillin and virtually eradicated many diseases, such as small-
pox; mapped the entire genetic system of the human being (the human genome project);
discovered the structure of the molecule that contains the genetic information of all liv-
ing organisms (DNA); and in the last 100 years raised the life expectancy of a person
living in the United States from about 50 years to 78 years (a 35 percent increase). More
generally, those working within the model we have been calling methodological natural-
ism have changed our lives in dramatic ways; imagine your life without television, the
transistor, the World Wide Web and the Internet, or the personal computer. Astronomers,
again employing methodological naturalism as a working assumption, now indicate that
the age of the universe is approximately 13.75 billion years old, and the diameter of the

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.4 Controversies in Science

observable universe is at least 90 billion light years (that is, traveling at the speed of light,
it would take 90 billion years to go across the observable universe).

These are extraordinary accomplishments, but again, it is clear that there is no require-
ment that one who adopts methodological naturalism accept the philosophical view of
metaphysical naturalism. Science operates on the basis of the best possible explanation,
given the evidence, while recognizing that any current theory is always subject to being
changed, revised, or even overthrown. Some object to evolution by saying that it is a
“theory”; biologists will agree that it is a theory—as is gravity, and our current concep-
tion of the atom—but they also maintain that it is the best currently available theory. That
means it may be wrong, either in some or many details, or even entirely wrong; just as
the geocentric model of the world that placed the earth at its center was eventually dis-
carded, the model the vast majority of today’s working biologists use may also eventually
be discarded. Evolutionary theorists will argue that YEC and ID are not scientific views
because they do not provide claims that are testable or falsifiable. YEC and ID object to
evolutionary theory because it is incomplete and cannot give a complete description of the
origins and development of life on earth. As always, the philosopher will wish to continue
the debate, by examining the methods used by those engaged in that debate, what counts
as evidence, how well confirmed its claims are given that evidence, and what prospects
for future research and investigation each promises. One thing remains clear: philosophy
has a contribution to make to this discussion, by making clear what the questions are and
what will count as answers to those questions.

What We Have Learned
• Justifying knowledge claims has generated different and contrasting epistemolo-

gies, such as correspondence and coherence theories of knowledge.
• Since Descartes, philosophers regard it as necessary to respond to skepticism.
• Understanding what scientific claims involve, and how they are stated and

tested, is an important philosophical component of the scientific enterprise.

Some Final Questions
1. Identify three different kinds of things you think you “know.” How certain are

you that they are true? What must you do to justify those three things?
2. Pretend you are a professional astrologer. Give an example of the kind of pre-

diction an astrologer might make. Why do you want an example that cannot be
shown to be false?

3. If certain claims cannot be shown to be based on our current understanding of
science, are there other reasons we might still want to believe those claims? Give
an example of such a claim, and explain why someone might believe it for rea-
sons other than those science offers.

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CHAPTER 3Section 3.4 Controversies in Science

Web Links

Types of Knowledge
A concise description of different kinds of knowledge we may claim to have:

http://www.theoryofknowledge.info/typesofknowledge.html

Skepticism
A clear, short account of skepticism can be found here:

http://www.wsu.edu/~dee/GLOSSARY/SKEPT.HTM

The Vocabulary of Epistemology
A useful listing of many of the technical terms used in discussions of knowledge:

http://humanknowledge.net/Philosophy/Epistemology.html

Perception and the Myth of the Given
A fairly detailed account of perception and knowledge, with a good account of Wilfred
Sellars’s “myth of the given,” is provided here:

Epistemology of Perception, The

Free Will and Determinism
A quick summary of views on free will, causality, and determinism:

http://www.trinity.edu/cbrown/intro/free_will.html

Evolution and Its Critics
A vast amount of information in support of the theory of evolution can be found here:

http://pandasthumb.org/

Young Earth Creationism is advocated here:

http://www.icr.org/

A clearinghouse of information on Intelligent Design can be found here:

Defining Intelligent Design

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http://www.theoryofknowledge.info/typesofknowledge.html

http://www.wsu.edu/~dee/GLOSSARY/SKEPT.HTM

http://humanknowledge.net/Philosophy/Epistemology.html

Epistemology of Perception, The

http://www.trinity.edu/cbrown/intro/free_will.html

http://pandasthumb.org/

http://www.icr.org/

Defining Intelligent Design

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