Abstract
In Chapters 1 and 6, I used animals as examples of creatures that are not thought to be persons, but who receive some moral consideration. The view that most contemporary Americans hold is that while we have no obligation to treat animals equally with human beings, we do not have the right to treat them in any way we like. So far I have used this view to illustrate the difference between what is owing to persons and what to nonpersons because it clearly shows the difference between a society’s attitude toward persons and its attitude toward those it grants some moral consideration, but not personhood. As yet, I have not attempted to justify this position toward animals. I think that it can be justified, although a consistent application of it may suggest changes that ought to be made in how we treat animals.
This is a preview of subscription content, log in via an institution to check access.
Access this chapter
Tax calculation will be finalised at checkout
Purchases are for personal use only
Preview
Unable to display preview. Download preview PDF.
Notes
Jan Narveson has maintained that the fact that animals suffer is not a reason for humans to do anything to prevent or relieve it — at least when this is not in one’s own interest to do so [‘On a Case for Animal Rights’, Mind, 70 (1987):31–49]. Yet if human suffering provides grounds for acting to counter it, then there seems no good reason for supposing that the suffering of members of other species is not a ground for action. Any creature which can suffer has at least one purpose: namely, to avoid and escape pain. If I am right in supposing that the point of moral and other practical rules is to further purposes, excluding individuals which have purposes from moral consideration without good grounds is arbitrary. In Moral Matters (Peterborough, Ont.: Broadview Press, 1993), 8, Narveson states that the only reason a person should be asked to give up some of his freedom of action is for a reason which is good from the point of view of the agent. This suggests a form of egoism: people should always do what is in their own interest — or at least it is not the case that they ever ought to do what is not good for them or what they’d rather not do. On the other hand, Narveson indicates that a moral rule — a rule which applies to everyone — is one which overrides personal interest (see ‘On a Case for Animal Rights’ and Moral Matters, 15), so he definitely acknowledges that there are times when we must give up our preferences. He certainly seems to hold that morality is a matter of agreeing on rules which everyone finds reasonable (Moral Matters, 27), and thus it can apply only to rational agents. He holds that moral rules are justifiable only when everyone is better off by following them (see ‘On a Case for Animal Rights’). But there is a problem here. If everyone follows a moral rule, such as not telling lies, then of course we are all better off than we would be if nobody could be counted on to tell the truth. On the other hand, we have all been in situations when we could get an advantage for ourselves by telling a lie just because other people will believe us. And they believe us because people are generally expected to tell the truth. By making an exception of ourselves we end up better off than we would be if we told the truth. Our advantage, however, depends upon other people’s having followed the rule; if they hadn’t we wouldn’t be believed when we lie. Taking such an advantage, moreover, involves benefitting at the expense of those others who have told the truth when it wasn’t convenient for them. On my view that makes it wrong, even if no one is hurt by the lie, and it is certainly wrong if someone else is hurt. Given Narveson’s position as I understand it, I am not sure how he would deal with the situation in which the individual agent stands to benefit by breaking a moral rule which it is normally advantageous for him (and everyone) that everyone follow. Is there, for him, any reason to follow the rule, as most people believe there is? There is a way out for Narveson, based on the value he clearly ascribes to individual liberty to pursue one’s ends. He says we ought not to be asked to give up what we want without good reason, presumably because getting what we want is a good thing and not getting it is to some extent bad. This applies to everyone and gives us a reason for following moral rules. Now if my getting what I want is good, then other people’s getting what they want is also good, and animals’ getting what they want is good too, and their suffering, like ours, is bad. It is inconsistent to think otherwise. If so, there is a reason to prevent their suffering and to promote their happiness. In short, if the sole reason we have to concern ourselves with the interests of others is because they are individuals with whom we can make mutually advantageous rule following arrangements, then there is no reason not to break those rules when we can obtain even more advantages for ourselves. On the other hand, if we have reason to concern ourselves with the interests of others because their having their purposes realized has value, then there is no good reason for excluding animals which have purposes. All I have done here is indicate that we ought to have some consideration for the good of animals. I will discuss the question of how we should balance animals’ good against ours in Section 3 of this chapter and that of how much we should be compelled to do on the behalf of animals (i.e., what we are obligated to do) in Chapter 10.
Animals in group (2), then, have some moral standing, although their moral standing is not equal to ours. I disagree with those who maintain that we only ought to treat animals in certain ways because this is good or bad for humans. Charles Blatz argues that the point of ethics is to direct choice and behavior through the application of its norms to the options facing agents, by providing reasons for or against the agent’s options [in a paper presented at the University of Wyoming in 1984: ‘Why (Most) Humans Are More Important Than Other Animals: Reflections on Ethical Standing and the Foundations of Ethics’]. Since this is so, he maintains, only those whose actions are capable of being influenced by reasons have ethical standing. As Rollin points out, however, this shows at most that animals are not ethical agents. It does not exclude them from moral consideration [see Animal Rights and Human Morality (Buffalo, N.Y.: Prometheus, 1981), 11]. That nonrational animals cannot be influenced by reasons provides grounds only for not giving them equal moral consideration, not for excluding them entirely. Those which are sentient are entitled to some such consideration.
See for example, John Finnis, The Rights and Wrongs of Abortion,’ Philosophy and Public Affairs 1(1971): 117–145.
See Rollin, Animal Rights and Human Morality, 62–63. Granted that protecting someone from harm is not always the most stringent of our duties — refraining from harming is more stringent — it is, nonetheless, something we ought to do when we can. And while we should not be required to do the impossible (as we would be if expected to protect the interests of each individual wolf and caribou), we would, if we really treated all animals as persons, have a larger duty to protect animals than anyone currently thinks we do.
Robert Nozick, Anarchy, State, and Utopia (New York: Basic Books, 1974), 39. As David Resnik has pointed out to me, measuring the utility of animals is even more problematic than measuring it in humans. The best we can do is to avoid doing things to animals which lead to behavior similar to that which indicates distress in humans: e.g., cries, running away, cowering, or which causes physiological damage. We can also do things which promote health, as indicated by growth, energy, and a shiny coat, and pleasure, which is indicated by the animal’s tendency to approach or remain with the situation. The more we observe animals, the more such indications for a given species we can learn to recognize, and the more closely we can determine what might count as goods and harms to the members of those species. We can also rank them, as we do for humans, although, of course, with less assurance, especially the more different the species is from us.
The outside reviewer for Kluwer Academic Publishers objected to this provision on the grounds that much employment revolves around Level 3 goods. This is true, yet I do not think this poses a problem for my position. Restricting such employment to a large degree — on whatever grounds — could result in significant loss of Level 2 goods. In addition, individual things we have and do for fun are generally Level 3 goods. Yet to lose a large proportion of such things would blight our lives considerably, and be equivalent to the loss of a Level 2 good. Consequently, if avoiding major harm to animals results in a large loss of jobs or pleasurable activities for which substitutes are not easily available, this could count as the sacrifice of Level 2 goods for humans, so that causing that harm to animals might not be wrong. Yet the reviewer goes further than this, and says he sees no reason why we can’t sacrifice the interests of animals — however central to their well being — for anything that is good for humans, including things that some people might consider trivial. This suggests that if people enjoy watching cock fights or bear baiting, and if some people can make money putting on these shows, these are morally acceptable, no matter how much pain they cause the animals. One might point out that activities that depend on the pain of any living creature are ultimately not good for humans, either, since they promote indifference or even enjoyment of the suffering of others and may harden people to the pain of humans, as well. Yet even if there were no harmful effects on humans, there is something wrong with hurting animals badly for small benefits to humans. Animals matter just because they can feel and have purposes, limited though these may be. If my arguments in Note 1 to this chapter are sound, then to say otherwise is to deny that the interests of other humans matter when they conflict with our own. The question, of course, is where to draw the line, if we assume that animals matter, but don’t matter as much as humans. I have suggested a line which is not hard and fast. And even if my line is accepted by people for their personal moral standards, this is a far cry from enforcing such a standard on others. But that there is no clear cut distinction between what we ought to give up for the sake of animals and what it is all right not to do does not show that there is no distinction to be made. To say there is is to invoke the slippery slope argument, which most reject (see, for example, Jan Narveson’s Moral Matters, 180–183). It may not be either clearly wrong or clearly acceptable to eat chickens that have been raised in constrictive cages. This uncertainty, however, does not imply uncertainty about the wrongness of going off on a month’s vacation and leaving your pets uncared for.
Similar arguments are given by Leslie Pickering Francis and Richard Norman in ‘Some Animals Are More Equal Than Others,’ Philosophy, 53 (1978): 507–527, and by Jan Narveson in Moral Matters, 134–135.
The point that not only death, but much animal suffering may not be as bad as we imagine, since animals lack long term goals and purposes, is made by Daniel Dennett in Consciousness Explained, (Boston: Little, Brown & Company, 1991), Chapter 14. Although much of suffering is due to blighted hopes and fear of the future, which require more intelligence than animals generally have, we should not ignore the possibility of suffering through deeply painful sensations, even in a creature lacking reasoning ability altogether. I will never forget, for example, hearing, as a child, the screams of a baby rabbit which the cat had mangled. If I have ever had reason to believe a fellow creature was suffering, that was reason. Furthermore, as Rollin points out (Animal Rights and Human Morality, 33) humans in pain can frequently hope and plan for relief, but an animal unable to do this might not have even this mitigation, and therefore suffer more than a human in a like degree of pain.
Marian Dawkins points out the need to take into consideration social and economic effects of changes in the way we treat animals. See Animal Suffering (London: Chapman and Hall, 1980), 9.
Charles Blatz makes this point (see ‘Why (Most) Humans, etc.’)
Rollin, Animal Rights and Human Morality, 36–38,53–57.
See also Dawkins, Animal Suffering, 51–53.
See Paul R. Ehrlich, David S. Dobkin, and Darryl Wheye, The Birder’s Handbook: A Field Guide to the Natural History of North American Birds (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1988), 495–501.
Rights and permissions
Copyright information
© 1996 Kluwer Academic Publishers
About this chapter
Cite this chapter
Forrester, M.G. (1996). How Animals Ought to be Treated. In: Persons, Animals, and Fetuses. Philosophical Studies Series, vol 66. Springer, Dordrecht. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-94-009-1633-3_10
Download citation
DOI: https://doi.org/10.1007/978-94-009-1633-3_10
Publisher Name: Springer, Dordrecht
Print ISBN: 978-94-010-7230-4
Online ISBN: 978-94-009-1633-3
eBook Packages: Springer Book Archive