I recently had the opportunity to eat, drink and do moral calculations with the philosopher Peter Singer. The average person might think that dating a philosopher, even a renowned and accomplished one, would not be an event or cause a pain in the brain, like the pain that can develop after a college class on induction, deduction, and brain gymnastics. But as a lifelong fiancée of philosophy, I was delighted that Dr. Singer agreed to meet with me.
Singer has the distinction of being the epiphany trigger in my life. My first experience with him was on paper. In 1985 I read his book In Defense of Animals, in which he talks about “speciesism,” a prejudice similar to racism and sexism in which humans believe they are superior to other species. Singer argues that nonhumans are of equal value to humans and deserve the same consideration and that an animal’s ability to feel pain should give it protection under the moral umbrella that humans typically reserve for themselves. This idea was like a starting gun, signaling me to begin my mission to help the truly voiceless and defenseless members of society. I stopped eating meat that day.
When I heard that the normally reclusive Singer, who lives in Australia and New Jersey and is called the father of the animal rights movement, would be speaking at the Getty Museum in Los Angeles about animals and art, I thought why not take him for a dick? The controversial utilitarians also have to eat.
Singer is controversial primarily for his position on infanticide and euthanasia. For example, he argues that it is morally right in some circumstances to kill a severely handicapped baby whose life would cause him and his family immense suffering. Singer arrives at this conclusion in the same way that he arrives at all conclusions: by undertaking a utilitarian calculation.
A utilitarian views an action as right or wrong based on the consequences of that action. He counts the positives (hedons) and negatives (pains) of the situation in advance and selects the course of action that is likely to result in the most positives or hedons.
Deontological moral theory is, in effect, the opposite of utilitarianism. Ethics hate hedon and pain, and argue that the consequences are morally inconsequential. The deontological theory establishes that people have certain moral duties or obligations that are based on some absolute authority; the authority may be religion, universal reason, natural rights, natural law, or some other entity altogether. Chances are, an ethicist would believe that it is wrong to kill a baby, regardless of the child’s level of disability, a precept that might be supported by Scripture.
To impress Dr. Singer, I thought I’d better stay on top of the “utility calculus” game. Without loitering. I had to be on guard every second, ready to change my actions to the correct “utilitarian” course of action. I didn’t want this great philosopher to interpret his time with me as immoral.
The first order of business was choosing a restaurant. Singer had only put forward one requirement: there had to be a vegan entree on the menu. But like a good utilitarian, he knew he had to weigh a parade of other factors. His hotel was in Santa Monica, so I chose a place nearby to save fuel and not contribute to global warming. I chose a totally vegan place, as a gesture to encourage exemplary establishments to be fruitful and multiply. Ultimately, I decided it was okay for the restaurant to be located in Santa Monica after grappling with whether the area is more or less moral than the surrounding communities.
I picked up Singer from his hotel and turned on the air conditioning in the car because I wanted my important guest to be comfortable. Politely, he explained to me how my action was destroying the environment and he suggested that we just roll down the windows. I could not believe it; He had already fucked me! I silently berated myself for not having done the necessary moral calculation.
My second test came when I was asked if I should turn left; and in doing so, stopping a long line of vehicles behind me. The alternative was to drive all the way to a signal light, turn onto a less busy street, do a three-point turn into a driveway, go back to the original intersection and make a right turn, an undertaking that would take an extra five minutes. Most people in our “have a right,” “me first” society feel morally justified in holding up a long line of other drivers, some who may be rushing to an emergency or late for a critical appointment. But would a utilitarian come to this conclusion? I decided against it and opted to just inconvenience myself and my scholar passenger.
The vegan restaurant was like a beehive, packed with customers and with sloping seats. We were directed to an airless corner where we were expected to huddle at a small table. A part of me wanted to drop my philosophical footing, reject the cramped conditions and demand a spacious and close table. But I paid attention to utilitarianism, resolved that a group of four deserved the extra space. As the heat intensified during the meal, I began to regret my decision because it was “the city of pain” in that sultry corner.
Singer took a sip of his mixture of beet, apple and carrot juice as he explained why he was leaning toward supporting Barack Obama for president. We discuss immigration legislation proposed by Congress and how the issue is handled in Australia, where his three children live.
When we exhaust the cherished topics of the media, we delve into the hypotheses that make philosophy a cocktail party favorite; like “if a cart is rolling downhill, should you let it kill your own child or a stranger’s child” and “is there a difference between killing someone and letting them die?” We even explore the ever-popular free will debate. I asked Singer if he was choosing to have an enchilada or if he was just choosing the main course as a pawn of the universe. He thought he was choosing, but I argued that he was probably just a chess piece in a board game called “life.”
After spending two hours with Dr. Singer, what impressed me most about this man was his humility, flexibility, and open mind. He is able to go over a problem with a fresh pad of paper. He lacks the cumbersome preconceived ideas that haunt most people; and he is willing, even eager, to change his mind when new facts and better arguments emerge. I find that many people are the other way around: stubborn, immovable objects, bogged down by pages and pages of notes, who don’t want to whitewash them under any circumstances.
Perhaps this illuminates the distinction between the utilitarian and the deontological mind. Utilitarianism, by its very nature, welcomes, even demands, ideological flexibility, while deontological ethics thrives on being a moral tank, oblivious to its surroundings.
Society reacts to the utilitarian/ethical dance. In The Sacred Canopy, Peter Berger says that people invent ideas, but forget that they are the architects of these ideas, and then attribute them to an external religious source. Non-religious precepts seem to migrate along a similar path. They become entrenched social norms like a bronze statue in the center of the town square. They may emanate from a deontological or utilitarian source, but they become more deontological, immutable and transcendent as they become the center of people’s lives. The statue is virtually impervious to the elements, in part because the average citizen is inclined to resist change. It is easy and comforting to enforce laws, moral standards, and codes of conduct.
Utilitarianism may receive low marks in some circles because it has been manipulated to justify actions. We’ve all heard excuses like, “I had to cheat on my taxes because I thought the government had enough money” or “I didn’t return the lost wallet because I thought I needed the money more than the other person.” This “imagining” or calculating is a misapplication of the utilitarian method; it does not reflect what an impartial observer would decide. It only reflects the result that the thief is looking for: evade taxes or keep the lost wallet.
Despite periodic misuse, utilitarianism has a critical role to play in society. It can chisel away or completely nullify ethical values, which philosopher Jeremy Benthem claims are simply camouflage for the popular morality of the day. Utilitarianism allows undiscovered evidence and improved arguments to emerge. It is our best hope for a better future, and we must recognize it as such.
I thank Dr. Singer for being a living example of the flexibility of utilitarianism. And from now on, when someone asks me to guess who’s coming to dinner, I expect him to be a utilitarian. Especially a controversial one.