What's Good on TV? E-Book

Jamie Carlin Watson

• Herausgeber: John Wiley & Sons
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 598

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2011

Beschreibung

What's Good on TV? Understanding Ethics Through Television presents an introduction to the basic theories and concepts of moral philosophy using concrete examples from classic and contemporary television shows. * Utilizes clear examples from popular contemporary and classic television shows, such as The Office, Law and Order, Star Trek and Family Guy, to illustrate complex philosophical concepts * Designed to be used as a stand-alone or supplementary introductory ethics text * Features case studies, study questions, and suggested readings * Episodes mentioned are from a wide variety of television shows, and are easily accessible * Offers a balanced treatment of a number of controversial ethical issues including environmental ethics, animal welfare, abortion, homosexuality, capital punishment, assisted suicide, censorship and the erosion of values * Includes a companion website at href="http://whatsgoodontv.webs.com/">http://whatsgoodontv.webs.com

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Preface

Why Write a Book Like This?

Why Television?

How to Use This Book

The Pilot Episode: Ethics and Popular Culture

What is Ethics?

How Do We Make Progress in Ethics?

What Does Pop Culture Have to Do with Ethics?

Additional reading

Series I: Is Anything "Good" on Television? The Nature of Moral Value

Episode 1: Truth and Nihilism in Ethics

Introduction

The case for nihilism

The case for realism

Case study: The Office (UK), “Work Experience,” series 1

Study Questions

Alternative Case Studies

Episode 2: Normativity – Social, Legal, and Moral

Introduction

You promised to play by the rules!

What does my neighbor have to do with my goodness?

Case study: The Sopranos, “College,” season 1

Study Questions

Alternative Case Studies

Episode 3: God and Ethics

Introduction

What has Athens to do with Jerusalem?

Does God make the law or does he just let us in on it?

Case study: Law & Order, “God Bless the Child,” season 2

Study Questions

Alternative Case Studies

Series II: What's Right and Wrong? Ethical Theory

Episode 4: Moral Relativism

Introduction

Are we merely products of our culture?

Relativism is unjustified

Case study 1: Deadwood, “Childish Things,” season 2

Case study 2: South Park, “Death Camp of Tolerance,” season 6

Study Questions

Alternative Case Studies

Episode 5: Deontology

Introduction

Kant's theory of moral duty

Case study 1: Arrested Development, “Not without My Daughter,” season 1

Contemporary Deontology

Case study 2: Friends, “The One Where Phoebe Hates PBS,” season 5

Study Questions

Alternative Case Studies

Episode 6: Consequentialism

Introduction

Mill's theory of utility

Case study 1: Battlestar Galactica, “You Can't Go Home Again,” season 1

Case study 2: The Twilight Zone (Newer), “Cradle of Darkness,” season 1

Study Questions

Alternative Case Studies

Episode 7: Virtue Ethics

Introduction

Aristotle's theory of virtue

Case study 1: Foyle's War, “Enemy Fire,” set 3

Case study 2: Star Trek: The Next Generation, “Hide and Q,” season 1

Study Questions

Alternative Case Studies

Series III: But What's Right When . . . ? Practical Ethics

Episode 8: Environmental Ethics

Introduction

Two Approaches to Environmental Ethics

Silly environmentalists, nature is for people

Case study 1: Northern Exposure, “Zarya,” season 6

Case study 2: Family Guy, “It Takes a Village Idiot, and I Married One,” season 5

Study Questions

Alternative Case Studies

Episode 9: Animal Welfare

Introduction

Two Dead Ends

Three Approaches to Animal Welfare

Animals are morally valuable, but not as valuable as adult humans

Case study 1: Bones, “Finger in the Nest,” season 4

Case study 2: House, M.D., “Babies and Bathwater,” season 1

Study Questions

Alternative Case Studies

Episode 10: Abortion

Introduction

One Common Assumption

Six Fallacies to Avoid

Judith Jarvis Thomson and the Violinist Argument

Mary Anne Warren and the Space Explorer

Abortion is wrong for the same reason that killing adults is wrong

Case study 1: Law & Order, “Dignity,” season 20

Case study 2: Maude, “Maude's Dilemma – Parts 1 and 2,” season 1

Study Questions

Alternative Case Studies

Episode 11: Homosexuality

Introduction

Arguments Against the Permissibility of Homosexuality

Arguments for the Permissibility of Homosexuality

Additional Concerns

New Natural Law Theory and the Morality of Homosexuality

Case study 1: Law & Order, “Manhood,” season 3

Case study 2: Family Guy, “You May Now Kiss the . . . Uh . . . Guy Who Receives,” season 4

Study Questions

Alternative Case Studies

Episode 12: Punishment and Capital Punishment

Introduction

Theories of Punishment

Arguments For and Against Capital Punishment

Capital punishment is unjustified

Case study 1: Star Trek: The Next Generation, “The Hunted,” season 3

Case study 2: Oz, “Capital P,” season 1

Study Questions

Alternative Case Studies

Episode 13: Assisted Suicide

Introduction

A Few Terms

Three Moral Arguments Against the Permissibility of Assisted Suicide

Moral and Practical Arguments for the Permissibility of Assisted Suicide

The Good of Society Depends on Assisted Suicide

Case study 1: Picket Fences, “Abominable Snowman,” season 2

Case study 2: Scrubs, “My Jiggly Ball,” season 5

Study Questions

Alternative Case Studies

The Epilogue: Does TV Erode Our Values?

The Moral Influence of Television

The Debate Over Censorship

A Kantian Reason not to Censor

Case study 1: Family Guy, “PTV,” season 4

Availability: NetFlix, iTunes

Utilitarian Reasons not to Censor

Moral Reasons to Censor

Exploitation, Objectification, and TV

Case study 2: Toddlers & Tiaras (any episode)

Availability: clips available on Discovery.com and YouTube

Reality TV and Psychological Harm

That's All Folks!

Study Questions

References

Index

This edition first published 2011

© 2011 Jamie Carlin Watson and Robert Arp

Blackwell Publishing was acquired by John Wiley & Sons in February 2007. Blackwell’s publishing program has been merged with Wiley’s global Scientific, Technical, and Medical business to form Wiley-Blackwell.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Watson, Jamie Carlin.

What’s good on TV?: understanding ethics through television/Jamie Carlin Watson and Robert Arp.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 978-1-4051-9476-1 (hardcover: alk. paper) – ISBN 978-1-4051-9475-4

(pbk.: alk. paper)

1. Television broadcasting–Moral and ethical aspects. 2. Television broadcasting–Social aspects.

I. Arp, Robert. II. Title.

PN1992.6.W395 2011

170–dc22

2011009294

Preface

Why Write a Book Like This?

We've been teaching ethics for a number of years at a variety of institutions (public community, technical, and four-year colleges and universities, and private colleges and universities) and one thing we've noticed in all our classes is that examples from popular culture help students understand abstract philosophical ideas more efficiently than textbook examples.

When presented with textbook examples, students' initial responses are often skeptical: “Well, but what else is going on in his life?” “Why is she on the trolley to begin with?” “Isn't there a phone nearby, so he could call someone?” “Isn't that against the law?” They are often more interested in how the case is set up than in the moral issue the case is attempting to elucidate. But with pop culture examples, students are more likely to recognize or identify with the characters, accept the back story, understand the circumstances, and more quickly focus on the moral issue. Even in cases where they aren't familiar with the TV show, film, or video game, students are generally more willing to accept the circumstances as given and press into the ethical issues.

Popular culture examples also have an ice-breaking effect, helping students to better connect with one another and the instructor through a shared understanding of a cultural icon. And, for instructors who are willing to keep up with a few trends, pop culture examples enrich the classroom experience, adding a degree of levity to otherwise serious debate.

Why Television?

Focusing on the medium of television allowed us to fix our attention on one arena of culture that continues to have an immense effect on how we interact with one another. Television has been a notorious platform for expressions that challenge social mores (e.g., interracial kisses, bisexual kisses, wardrobe malfunctions, abortion, rape, drug use and abuse, etc.). And the increased popularity of reality television raises a host of ethical questions, not to mention a reconsideration of what constitutes “reality.”

In addition to its controversial moral themes, focusing on television allows this book to be useful to a variety of people:

1. Students in cultural history courses, media history courses, philosophy and pop culture courses, television and media ethics courses, not to mention as a supplement to more traditional introductory ethics courses

2. Instructors of these courses who are always looking for new and interesting examples to make the difficult concepts of moral philosophy more accessible to their students.

3. General readers who are interested in ethics but who would see the pop culture approach as a less intimidating or more enjoyable way of engaging classical moral theories and concepts.

While this book is no substitute for primary texts, we hope it will provide a useful introduction to ethics for a wide variety of readers.

How to Use This Book

Each chapter of this book includes a discussion of an issue in moral philosophy using examples from television shows, at least one suggested reading, which we summarize, at least one “case study” from a television show, and three suggestions for additional case studies on that topic. The chapters stand, for the most part, independent of one another, so that an instructor or reader can focus on the issues he or she is most interested in. In cases where an idea from another chapter is referenced, we have tried to make this explicit, directing readers to the relevant section of that chapter. Each television episode is available either free online, or through a popular medium, usually iTunes or NetFlix. We expect that the instructor interested in teaching ethics through popular culture would be familiar with these sources, and our choice of episodes was guided by the intent that the maximum investment of an instructor, even if she has to purchase 10 episodes, would not exceed $20. (For instance, the show Cold Case had interesting episodes on homosexuality and abortion, but they were difficult to obtain inexpensively, so we left them out of our primary discussions.)

The structure of the book is similar to a classic ethics textbook, beginning with metaethics, then discussing ethical theories (normative ethics), and finally moving on to a series of decisions in applied ethics. In addition to the standard issues in applied ethics, we include a special applied ethics section on the medium of television. Thus, we have arranged the book as follows (using terms like “pilot,” “series,” and “episode” to reflect our television theme).

In “The Pilot Episode,” we discuss briefly the nature of ethics and offer a primer on basic reasoning, introducing students to helpful reasoning strategies and common fallacies to avoid when discussing moral arguments. These strategies and fallacies are referenced throughout the book and provide an objective standard against which to evaluate assignments. In “Series I,” we review some basic questions about the nature and sources of value, including moral nihilism, normativity, and the relationship between God and morality. In “Series II,” we review four of the most widely held ethical theories: relativism, deontology, utilitarianism, and virtue ethics. In “Series III,” we review six discussions in applied ethics: environmental ethics, animal welfare, abortion, homosexuality, punishment and capital punishment, and physician-assisted suicide. And finally, in “The Epilogue,” we raise some important moral questions surrounding television, including the influence of the medium on society's values and the ethics of reality television.

The Pilot Episode: Ethics and Popular Culture

What is Ethics?

In season 5 of The Office (US), human resources rep Holly Flax (Amy Ryan), attempts to organize an ethics seminar (“Business Ethics”). What sounds like an interesting and enlightening workshop (to some of us) turns out to be a laundry list of company dos and don'ts. After a few excruciating lines from the Dunder Mifflin Anti-theft Policy, Oscar Martinez (Oscar Nuñez) points out: “That's not ethics. Ethics is a real discussion of competing conceptions of the good.”

Ethics is About the Good

Humans have engaged in discussions about “the good” at least since ancient Greek philosophers began investigating reality. In one of these ancient dialogues, for example, Socrates argued that the search for eudaimonia, or the “good life,” is the best possible human pursuit. Many agreed with Socrates, though few could agree about what counts as “good.” Socrates and Plato argued that the good life is the result of living rationally and in pursuit of justice. Aristotle argued that someone who has a fortunate life and who acts virtuously will eventually achieve a good life. Epicurus argued that the good life is only achieved by indulging in various sorts of pleasure.

Though some philosophers still investigate “the good” or “the good life” in a general or abstract sense, others have found it more productive to ask, instead, what makes behaviors or actions good. For example, David Hume argued that our passions are the only motivation for our actions, so to say that an act is good is to say that we are motivated by some passion for it. Immanuel Kant argued, quite differently, that a good act is one motivated by reasons independent of passions, that is, by pure reason. Around the same time, Jeremy Bentham echoed Epicurus and Hume, arguing that a principled cost/benefit analysis of the pleasures and pains resulting from an act reveals its moral worth. If an act increases overall pleasure and reduces overall pain, it is morally permissible; if doing anything else would reduce pleasure and increase pain, the act is obligatory.

Contemporary philosophers, with some exceptions, tend to follow this eighteenth-century model and investigate the moral value of human actions. Contemporary debates in ethics center around one of three questions: (i) Is there is anything like a “right” or “wrong” act?; (ii) if there are right and wrong acts, what makes an act right or wrong?; and (iii) if there are right and wrong acts, which acts are right and which are wrong?

Ethics is an Investigation

What does Oscar mean by “a real discussion”? A real discussion is a dialogue with a purpose, an investigation. It is not simply sharing opinions or reading what someone else thinks. It is a rational consideration of the arguments for and against a particular moral claim or theory. It is a process that requires clarifying, evaluating, and either defending or critiquing candidates' answers to the three questions just raised.

In fact, we worry that the word “discussion” is a little too weak. As it is often used, people can discuss without making progress. But any academic study must have success criteria; that is, we must be able to identify our goals and know whether we have achieved them. We do not think your journey into ethics has to end with shrugging shoulders and frustration. In this book, we offer you a set of tools for evaluating moral claims objectively and rationally. No doubt, you bring to this book a set of moral opinions. Our goal is to help you evaluate those opinions and the opinions of others on rational and moral grounds. You may discover a handful of good reasons to keep the opinions you have, or you may find that your opinions are unjustified and must be rejected. Still yet, you may find that there is not enough evidence to make an informed decision either way, and so you may have to suspend judgment until there is some new evidence. Whatever the result, the tools for evaluating these opinions are available to anyone able to ask moral questions. These tools allow us to have more than a discussion about the “good”: they help us make progress.

Therefore, while we appreciate the spirit of Oscar's definition, we will choose a slightly different definition for our study:

Ethics is the philosophical study of moral value

Philosophy is a method of investigating reality, very similar to science. In fact, most scientists throughout history considered themselves to be philosophers. Even Isaac Newton named his physical theory, Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy. The hallmark of a scientific/philosophical study is its heavy reliance on reason and logic. Scientists and philosophers reason about the nature of reality using a variety of evidence. However, contemporary philosophy is distinct from science in that, rather than conducting laboratory experiments, philosophers conduct thought experiments. Thought experiments involve either showing that the implications of a hypothesis are rationally unacceptable or constructing examples that reveal problems with a hypothesis. Since moral value is not the sort of topic that can be studied with microscope, test tube, or measuring tape, its investigation rightly falls to philosophers.

There are various kinds of value: moral value, aesthetic value, practical value, and truth value, among others. What “value” means in a particular situation depends, primarily, on the type of value under consideration. For instance, “practical value” refers to an act's function or usefulness; therefore, the more useful an act, the more practically valuable. Alternatively, “truth value” refers to a claim's veracity – that is, whether a proposition is true or false.

In this book, we are primarily concerned with “moral” value. Moral value refers to whether an act is obligatory (should be performed), permissible (may be performed), or impermissible (should not be performed). Moral value is also often expressed in polar terms (terms at the extreme ends of a spectrum), such as “right” or “wrong,” “good” or “bad,” “moral” or “immoral.” Many times, however, “right,” “wrong,” “good,” and “bad” are too broad to be informative. For instance, is it “right” or “wrong” to let someone cut in line in front of me? It seems morally permissible, but not explicitly “right.” In some situations it may be morally better than not allowing them to cut (for instance, if you're at the supermarket with a full cart and the person behind you has only one item). But it is not morally obligatory that you let them cut in. And you are not morally wrong if you don't. Our point here is simply to encourage you to take care not to overstate moral claims.

Ethics is Normative

Every claim that expresses value is, explicitly or implicitly, an “ought” claim: In X circumstances, a subject ought to do (ought not do; is permitted to do) Y. This means that ethical claims are “normative.” A normative claim indicates the way things should be or ought to be. Note that “normative” is different from “normal.” Normal is the way things tend to be or have been for some time – you may have heard the expression, “That's just how things are,” or “That's just how people are.” Normative refers to the way things ought to be – the way people ought to act.

As we will see in Episode 2, ethical normativity is not the only important kind of normativity. If usefulness is your goal, then a belief or action's pragmatic value indicates what you ought to believe or do. We call this “practical normativity.” If truth is your goal, then a claim's truth value, or the likelihood of a claim's truth value, indicates what you ought to do. We call this “alethic normativity” (alethic comes from the Greek word for truth: aletheia; some philosophers have argued that there is a moral obligation to follow alethic norms). If “goodness” or moral “rightness” is your goal, then a claim or action's moral value indicates how you may act, ought to act, or ought not to act. We call this “moral normativity,” and it is the type we are most concerned with in this book.

The unique thing about normativity in ethics is that “goodness” does not seem to be contingent on any particular human goals. Whereas a true belief is valuable only if you are seeking truth and a pragmatic belief is valuable only if you are seeking usefulness, moral goodness is valuable regardless of what you are seeking. The standard we use to evaluate the moral value of an action is goodness itself; so, by definition, it is never morally good to do a morally bad thing.

Of course, different actions may be morally good or bad, and the same act may be good in one set of circumstances and bad in others. For instance, the act of jumping up and down seems morally permissible in many circumstances: on carpet, in the gym, on a trampoline. But it seems to become immoral in other circumstances, for example: on a baby kitten. Because of examples like this one, we might say that morality is “context relative.” Nevertheless, the moral permissibility of actions is evaluated according to a standard independent of those circumstances.

Normative claims have important implications for how we interact with the world. This means we cannot take the process of determining what actions are morally permissible lightly. So, how do we figure out when an action is wrong?

Ethics Involves Theory

A statement about the moral value of an action is called a moral claim. A moral claim is a declarative statement about some moral feature of reality that is either true or false. For instance, “Rape is morally impermissible,” or “It would be wrong for you to steal that pen.” Grammatically speaking, moral claims are declarative sentences, and not questions or exclamations or commands. However, moral claims are often expressed as commands: “Don't do that!” “Stop stealing!” “Just give her the money you owe her.” But commands are not true or false; they are not statements about reality. They are often disguised claims. Consider the reformulation of these commands: “You ought not to do that!” “You should stop stealing!” “You ought to give her the money you owe her.” Reformulated as moral claims, we can now evaluate the truth or falsity of these statements.

We all have a list of actions we consider obligatory, permissible, or impermissible. These actions are expressed as moral claims. Many of us include the following moral claims on our list: murder is impermissible; stealing is impermissible unless what we're stealing is insignificant (paper clips, post-it notes); giving to charity is permissible and, perhaps, sometimes obligatory; caring for our children and aging parents is obligatory; keeping promises is obligatory, etc. The process of constructing a list of claims expressing the moral values of a set of actions is called “casuistry.” Casuistry comes very naturally to us, but in order for our lists to perform the function we want it to (namely, to keep us from acting immorally or to help us act morally), we must ask two questions: (i) Why does my list have the moral claims it does? and (ii) Are the claims on my list true?

How we evaluate a moral claim – that is, whether and when a belief or action is considered morally permissible, obligatory, or impermissible – depends a great deal on our ethical “theory.” Without an ethical theory, the items on our lists quickly become either inconsistent or self-serving. Consider another example from The Office (US). In “Sexual Harassment” (season 2), the corporate office had recently fired an executive for having an inappropriate relationship with his assistant and the Scranton branch is asked to review the company's sexual harassment policy. The boss, Michael Scott (Steve Carrell), takes this request personally, as an assault on his edgy sense of humor – the one thing (he thinks) that makes the office fun. Unfortunately, Michael recognizes no distinction between “offensive” and “inoffensive” jokes, so he rebels by redoubling the number of crude jokes and email-forwards he distributes to his employees.

For most of the episode Michael stands firm. However, when his long-time idol Todd Packer (David Koechner) tells a joke that “crosses the line” by insulting an office worker, Phyllis Lapin (Phyllis Smith), Michael suddenly recognizes a moral reason to object.

Notice that, up to now, Michael has held the maxim, All humor is morally permissible. He says, “There is no such thing as an appropriate joke. That's why it's a joke.” Suddenly, however, he realizes that some jokes can hurt people's feelings. To illustrate the ugliness of a character in the story he's telling, Packer points at Phyllis. Kevin (from accounting) asks, “Phyllis?” Michael says, “No. No. No. No. That crosses the line.” In stating this, Michael is revising his maxim to reflect an exception. We might formulate his new maxim as, All humor is morally permissible except when it hurts someone's feelings.

This might seem inconsistent, but changing your maxims to reflect new evidence is not a bad thing. When you have good reasons for doing so, you should revise your list of moral actions. It's part of how we make progress in ethics. But if we discover a serious inconsistency in our beliefs, we must appeal to a moral theory. Michael now seems to have a principled reason for revising his maxim. But since his revision is not being constrained by a moral theory, things go awry pretty quickly.

He suddenly finds that his revised maxim conflicts with his other long-standing maxim, Don't do anything that will make people not like me, because Packer asks, condescendingly, “Ex-squeeze me!?” In order to keep his belief that Packer's joke was wrong, while also avoiding further ridicule from Packer, Michael is forced, again, to revise his comment. He tries to relieve this tension by deflecting the blame: “Not you. Kevin. Just unwarranted. Hostile work environment, Kevin.”

Now Michael holds the maxim, There is a distinction between appropriate and inappropriate jokes, but only some people should be held responsible. But it's obviously Packer's joke, so we really want to know “Why Kevin?” Michael needs some principled reason for implicating Kevin under this new revision. Attempting to point the blame in the right direction, Kevin responds, “Packer said it.” Instead of following Kevin's intuitive suggestion, Michael attempts to justify his decision by invoking a distinction: “No, you said it. Packer pointed. A point is not a say.”

To the audience, it seems obvious that Michael introduces this distinction (between “a point” and “a say”) only to keep his maxims consistent. But the only reasons for keeping them consistent are self-serving. Michael saves face (that was the idea, anyway), but morality takes one in the loss column. Packer isn't held properly responsible for his actions, Phyllis isn't vindicated, and Kevin is punished for something he didn't do.

What does an Ethical Theory Look Like?

If an ethical theory is so important, how do we construct one? We'll see some of the details of theory construction in Series II, where we explain three classical ethical theories: virtue ethics, deontology, and utilitarianism. Here, we'll just highlight some of the rough details.

Constructing an ethical theory is very similar to constructing a scientific theory. Scientists begin in one of two ways. On the one hand, they can begin with particular experiences that need an explanation and then formulate hypotheses to explain those experiences, which, if they prove successful, become theories. Alternatively, they can begin with a working theory and evaluate some new experiences in light of that theory. If the working theory cannot account for the new experience, changes may be needed. The first approach is typically appropriate only when we are starting from scratch, with some really unique sort of phenomena; but few of us find such phenomena or are in a position to take on such an immense task. Therefore, scientists and ethicists typically begin with a working theory and attempt to revise it in the face of anomalies.

So, begin with an assumption. As an example, let's start by assuming that there are objective moral duties and those duties apply only to agreements among moral agents. So, for instance, I have a duty to pay you money only if I have explicitly entered into an agreement with you to pay you money. Similarly, I have a duty to save your life only if we live in a community where we have all agreed to help each other. To draw an analogy with science, let's assume that “heat” is a clear liquid-like substance called “caloric” and the more caloric an object has, the hotter it is. In addition, caloric moves from objects with more caloric to objects with less caloric, making the latter objects warmer. We'll call these our “working theories.”

With these working theories in hand, we can now evaluate some phenomenon that needs an explanation. The next step, then, is to clearly identify something that needs an explanation. In science, this might be something like, “Why does a cold pan get warm when it touches something warm?” In ethics, it might be something like, “Why do I think it would be wrong for my spouse to have an affair?”

Next, we form a hypothesis based on our theory to explain the phenomenon. In science, this might be: “Since the warm pan has more caloric than the cold pan, the caloric from the warm pan flows into cold pan.” In ethics this might be: “My spouse and I made explicit promises to one another that we would be monogamous, and promises (because they are explicit agreements) are morally binding.”

Fourth, we test this hypothesis against contrary evidence. In science, this might be: “If the caloric theory is an accurate explanation, then two cold objects cannot become warm without making contact with something warm. Yet, two cold sticks become warm when rubbed together.” In ethics, this might be: “If my spouse and I did not make explicit promises to be monogamous, it would not be immoral for her to have an affair. Yet, it still seems to me that, when I am in a relationship that just happens to be monogamous (there is no explicit agreement to be monogamous), there is a moral presumption that it would be wrong for my spouse to have an affair.”

Fifth, given contrary evidence like these, we may need to alter our theories or switch theories altogether. In our science case, this might mean a change from the “caloric” theory of heat to the “molecular” theory of heat: “Heat is a function of the speed of molecules. When the molecules of an object are accelerated by some external manipulation (friction, electricity, etc.), the object becomes warm.” In our ethical case, a competing explanation might be: “Some relationships confer special duties independently of any explicit agreement. Monogamous sexual relationships fall into this category.”

Finally, if this revised theory or hypothesis explains a larger number of similar cases and faces less contrary evidence than competing hypotheses, this hypothesis is the best explanation. That is our working theory. We can now keep this theory and use it to resolve moral problems and guide our behavior until a better explanation comes along or until devastating contrary evidence is discovered. The molecular theory of heat explains all of heat's properties that the caloric theory explained, plus it explains why cold objects become warm when friction is applied. In our ethical case, the existence of duties not explicitly agreed to plausibly explains moral obligations in various sorts of relationships: a parent has an obligation to care for her child, but not someone else's, even if the child has not agreed; a teacher has an obligation to treat his students with respect, even if the students do not agree.

This illustration is just a skeleton of the process of constructing a moral theory. Steps 3, 4, and 5 may need to be repeated dozens of times before a plausible explanation emerges. Our moral explanation for the seeming immorality of having an affair may not be very compelling in light of other contrary evidence. These would need to be considered before settling on a working theory of special duties.

Ethics Involves Casuistry

Even if you are able to come up with a plausible ethical theory, you will still have to consider how to put it into practice. It is not likely that you will be able to hole up away from the world with a tidy ethical theory in hand; you will probably choose to live in a community of people who think in moral terms. To live with others productively and safely, you must construct a list of moral and immoral actions that guide your behavior and help you evaluate the behavior or others – for better or worse.

We can hear you now: “But who am I to judge other people? I don't want to offend anyone.” Our first response is that this sort of attitude already expresses a moral sentiment, namely, that people are generally good and virtuous. Unfortunately for you, not everyone believes this. Therefore, by your very assertion, someone is wrong. You will face moral conflict.

Second, consider whether your attitude changes when your credit card company overcharges you. What about when your car is vandalized? Or when your college changes the rules on you without notice and now you have to take three more classes in order to graduate? Or when your mechanic lies in order to charge you more for the work he probably didn't do in the first place? What about when your roommate kills your fish or breaks your television or sleeps with your girlfriend/boyfriend?

Is anyone wrong in any of these situations? Have these perpetrators simply done something that you personally disagree with but which might be morally permissible for them? Have they simply acted according to their evolutionary tendencies? Can they really be blamed if they were raised in a very selfish home and don't care about your possessions or feelings or rights?

After serious philosophical consideration, you may come to the conclusion that there is no such thing as moral and immoral behavior, and, therefore, these questions do not disturb you very much. This is a viable position in ethics called “moral nihilism.” But keep in mind that your behavior will reflect an answer to these questions as they confront you, regardless of whether you have drawn any conclusions about the nature of value. And your answers can be evaluated in terms of ethical theories. Therefore, even if you are a moral nihilist, if you are a member of a community of beings that can recognize moral reasons and your actions can be evaluated in terms of a moral theory, it is useful to understand the relationship between casuistry and theory so that you can adequately respond to those who would challenge the morality of your behavior.

How Do We Make Progress in Ethics?

Recall Oscar Martinez's definition of ethics: a real discussion of competing conceptions of the good. We have talked about the good and what is required for an investigation into the good. But what about those “competing conceptions”? People invariably believe different actions are moral or permissible or immoral. People disagree. So how do we make any progress?

Ethical Reasoning

The primary way to make progress in ethics is by reasoning about moral claims, that is, by constructing and evaluating arguments. Some people get nervous around the word “argument” because it brings to mind a heated emotional exchange, usually angry. Or it makes people think of mere disagreement, one person simply contradicting another. An old British television show called Monty Python's Flying Circus parodied this perception of an argument in a sketch called “The Argument Clinic” (episode 29), where a customer attempts to pay someone to have an argument with him:

CUSTOMER (C):       Ah, is this the right room for an argument?

ARGUER (A):       I told you once.

C:       No you haven't.

A:       Yes I have.

C:       When?

A:       Just now.

C:       No you didn't.

A:       Yes I did.

. . .

C:       You did not.

A:       Yes I did.

C:       Did not.

A:       Yes I did.

C:       Didn't.

A:       Yes I did.

. . .

C:       Look, this isn't an argument.

A:       Yes it is.

C:       No it isn't. It's just contradiction.

A:       No it isn't.

C:       Yes it is.

. . .

C:       All of this is futile

A:       No it isn't.

C:       I came here for a good argument.

A:       No you didn't; you came here for an argument.

C:       Well an argument's not the same as contradiction.

A:       It can be.

C:       No it can't. An argument is a connected series of statements to establish a definite proposition.

A:       No it isn't.

C:       Yes it is. It is isn't just contradiction.

A:       Look, if I argue with you I must take up a contradictory position.

C:       But it isn't just saying “no it isn't”

A:       Yes it is.

. . .

In this sketch, the arguer thinks of arguments in terms of “contradiction,” whereas the customer thinks of arguments the way philosophers think of arguments: reasons for thinking a claim is true. So, for our purposes:

An argument is one or more claims (called premises) intended to support the truth of another claim (called the conclusion).

We've noted that a moral claim is a declarative statement about some moral feature of reality that is either true or false. A claim in general is simply a declarative statement about any feature of reality that is either true or false; for instance: the barn is red; the field is grassy; the speed of light is 299,792,458 m/s.

In an argument, one or more claims (moral or otherwise) is being used as evidence for the truth of another claim. For instance, let's say someone made the claim: “Abortion on demand is wrong.” As a critical thinker, you would want some reasons for thinking this is true. A classic argument for this claim looks like this:

1. A fetus has a right to life.

2.A person's right to life is stronger than a woman's right to decide what happens in and to her body.

3. Therefore, a fetus may not be killed on the grounds that a woman has decided she does not want the fetus.

(1) and (2) are claims providing support for (3), which says that because a woman decides she does not want a fetus (essentially: abortion on demand) abortion is wrong.

In order to evaluate this argument, we need to know what makes an argument good or bad (note: arguments are not true or false; only claims are true or false). In a “good argument,” (i) the conclusion follows from the premises and (ii) the premises are true. A conclusion follows from the premises in one of two ways, either (a) if the premises were true, the conclusion could not be false (note: not that they actually are true, but, if they were – subjunctive mood), or (b) if the premises were true, the conclusion would be more likely than not. If an argument meets condition (i) because of (a), the argument is “valid.” If an argument meets condition (i) because of (b), the argument is “strong.”

An argument that is only valid or strong is not yet a good argument. We also need to know that the premises are true. If an argument is valid and has true premises, it is a “sound” argument. If an argument is strong and has true premises, it is a “cogent” argument. If either (i) or (ii) is not met or if neither is met, the argument is not good. If both (i) and (ii) are met, the argument is good.

Now, consider once again our argument against abortion. The conclusion follows from the premises in a way that, if the premises were true, the conclusion would have to be true, so it is a valid argument. Therefore, to determine whether it is a good argument, we need reasons for thinking the premises are true. For instance, why think premise (1) is true? Here's an example of an argument:

4. A fetus is a person.

5.All persons have a right to life.

1. Therefore, a fetus has a right to life.

Here we have another valid argument for the claim that a fetus has a right to life. We're making progress, but to know whether we have good reasons to believe (3), we still need to know whether (2) is true and whether premises (4) and (5) of the new argument are true. This can be a long process, but this is how arguments work, whether they are moral arguments, scientific arguments, metaphysical arguments, religious arguments, etc.

Four Ways of Evaluating Moral Arguments

In order to evaluate an argument, we need only to check to see whether it meets both conditions (i) and (ii) above. Of course, some arguments are very complicated and it is often difficult to see clearly whether both conditions are met. To help with this process, philosophers have discovered a handful of principles to help us evaluate moral claims and arguments.

1. The Principle of charity

In season 1 of 30 Rock, Jack Donaghy (Alec Baldwin) tells Liz Lemon (Tina Fey), “The Italians have a saying, Lemon. ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ And although they've never won a war or mass-produced a decent car, in this area, they are correct” (“Blind Date”). Evidently Donaghy forgot the small matter of the Roman Empire. Nevertheless, we also think the Italians are correct (well, Mario Puzo anyway) because this saying highlights an important principle of reasoning, called the “principle of charity.” Don't be deceived by its wimpy-sounding name; it will do more work for you than most other principles. It will keep you focused on the important parts of an argument.

The principle of charity directs us to be “charitable” to those who argue against our claims by presenting their arguments in the strongest way possible; it directs us to present their case in the best light. The idea is that, since we're after truth and not simply out to win an argument, it does not matter whether someone's original argument is weak or faulty, as long as a stronger argument in favor of their claim is available. An argument is good or bad independently of who offers it. Therefore, if we take the process of argumentation seriously, we are well advised to adhere to the principle of charity.

The principle has two dimensions: first, it allows us to determine whether our own claims are plausibly true (if the strongest argument against one of my beliefs is flawless, then I have a reason to change my belief), and second, it allows us to show, in the clearest and most objective manner, the flaws in our opponents' arguments.

It is probably clear to you that, for any belief you hold, there is a chance that that belief is false. In some cases, the chance you are wrong is incredibly small – for instance, a belief like 2 + 2 = 4. Nonetheless, you must allow that a really intelligent mathematician could offer a proof showing that, however useful it is to believe 2 + 2 = 4, it is not, strictly speaking, true. In most cases, on the other hand, the chances of being wrong are much greater: I won't die on this airplane; I won't get the flu this year; it's going to rain tomorrow; the universe is strictly guided by the second law of thermodynamics, etc.

A realistic perspective on our chances of being wrong should encourage us to take arguments against our beliefs all the more seriously. Nineteenth-century philosopher John Stuart Mill explains:

He who knows only his own side of the case knows little of that. His reasons may be good, and no one may have been able to refute them. But if he is equally unable to refute the reasons on the opposite side; if he does not so much as know what they are, he has no ground for preferring either opinion. The rational position for him would be suspension of judgment. (On Liberty, ch. 2)

The idea here is that, to believe securely, or to be justified in our beliefs to at least some degree, we are well advised to seek out the opposition. Perhaps they are right and we are wrong. But we cannot determine which if we have not at least considered the best available evidence for the opposing claim.

The second dimension of the principle of charity assumes that, just as we could be wrong about our beliefs, so could our opponents. In order to show convincingly that an opponent's claim is implausible, an arguer must show both that the opponent's actual argument is faulty in some way, and that any similar or stronger argument for the same claim is faulty.

2. “Ought Implies can” (Though can Doesn't Imply Ought)

Can you be held responsible for an act that you cannot possibly perform? Could you be morally obligated to jump over a building or run faster than a car? Could you be held morally responsible for breathing? It seems odd to think so. The principle of “ought implies can,” often attributed to Immanuel Kant, means that, if there is some action you cannot possibly perform, we have a reason to believe you are not morally obligated to perform that act. For instance, people cannot change the color of their skin, so they cannot be morally responsible for being a certain race. This goes for a number of features of human psychology that have been the object of moral scorn throughout the ages. For instance, someone who has a genetic disposition toward being attracted to members of the opposite sex or the same sex, or toward alcoholism, or toward pedophilia, or kleptomania, according to this principle, cannot be held morally responsible for having those dispositions. This is because he has no choice with respect to having them. Of course, we do think he has a choice with respect to acting on them. We want the genetic alcoholic to refrain from drinking and the pedophile to refrain from performing acts of pedophilia, and both of these are moral concerns.

This principle is important because it helps us distinguish which aspects of certain behaviors are morally salient and can be used as evidence against any claim or argument that suggests that we are morally obligated to do something we cannot do. We just distinguished the genetic origins of an action from the performance of an action. Similarly, we can distinguish responsibility for an action at a given time from responsibility for a previous action. For instance, at the moment a drunk driver hits a pedestrian he could not have done otherwise, but he made a moral decision that led to this event by getting in the car drunk. Similarly, someone who takes out a loan who knowingly cannot pay it back makes a moral decision to defraud the lender.

This principle is controversial among philosophers primarily because there seem to be some obvious cases where it does not apply. If I borrow money, then accidentally spend all the money I have or, through no fault of my own, lose all my money along with the ability to make any more, the principle seems to suggest that I cannot be held morally responsible, since, in fact, I cannot pay back the loan. This, of course, would not be good for banks.

A standard response to this sort of case is that, if I have simply lost all my money, then, since I still have the capacity to make some, I am obligated to pay it back as soon as I do make any. But this doesn't quite save the principle. For example, if I agreed to pay it back on a certain day and just happen to have no money on that day, it seems the lender is right in holding me responsible for not doing so, even if I would have the money on the following day. And the same problem applies if I have lost the ability to pay it back (for instance, if I have lost my job).

Note that we could not solve this problem by pointing out that I made a promise in good faith that I would be able to pay it back. This is because now the action that I am unable to perform is keeping my promise. Yet, it still seems as if I am morally responsible for not making good on my word even if I cannot.

Nevertheless, the proponent of the principle may respond that, in cases where I am not morally responsible for either not being able to pay or not keeping my promise, the moral obligation to pay is lifted until I am able to pay it back. This response is plausible for two reasons: (i) it does not absolve the borrower of the debt; it simply acknowledges that the obligation cannot apply in cases where it is physically impossible for the borrower to repay. Note that this only holds if the borrower is not in this position because of negligence. If his actions caused his bankruptcy, he remains responsible for the debt just as someone who is drunk remains responsible for any unintentional actions that occur as a result of his drunkenness. And (ii) it does not leave it open that the borrower can remain destitute in order to avoid the debt; the moment he can take advantage of an opportunity toward making money, and, therefore, repayment of the debt, he is once again responsible for the debt.

Interestingly, the bankruptcy laws in the United States reflect this implication of the principle. A lender may take action against a delinquent borrower only until the latter can prove that he is physically unable to repay due to reasons outside his control. Under these circumstances, a borrower may file for bankruptcy and receive legal protection against his creditors. Therefore, we conclude that the principle of “ought implies can” is a plausible restriction on moral obligation.

Before concluding this section, it is important to point out that the converse of the principle, “can implies ought,” does not hold. The counterexamples here are obvious, but they are worth noting given some advancements in medical science. The fact that we can drop atomic bombs on our enemies, have sex with multiple random partners, take hallucinogenic drugs, eat pie for 24 hours straight, stand on baby kittens, or harvest organs from perfectly healthy people against their will doesn't mean we ought to do so. In each of these cases, important moral questions must be answered before we are justified in believing they are permissible or impermissible. Interestingly, some argue that certain advancements in medical science – for instance, the harvesting of stem cells from fertilized embryos – is morally permissible simply because we can do it. Given the above examples, this is an insufficient justification.

To be sure, the most common argument for harvesting stem cells is the great good that it might do, and that this good outweighs any moral value attaching to a fertilized embryo. This might be right, but it is not a “can implies ought” argument. It more closely resembles a principle known as “the end justifies the means.” We will discuss this principle in Episode 6, when we discuss utilitarianism, but it faces problems similar to those of “can implies ought;” for instance, harvesting organs from perfectly healthy people against their will might result in more healthy people overall. But in this latter case, the means do not seem to justify the ends.

3. Counterexample

A useful tool for testing a claim or argument is called a “counterexample.” A counterexample is an example used to show either that a claim is falseor that an argument is not good. A counterexample to a claim is an argument showing that a mutually exclusive claim is true. Two claims are mutually exclusive if they cannot both be true at the same time – for instance, “the barn is red right now” and “the barn is blue right now”; “Michael Bluth has no sisters” and “Lindsay Fünke is Michael Bluth's sister.” Therefore, if there is a better argument for the latter claim than the former, we have reason to believe the former is not true. Here's an example from ethics:

Argument IArgument II – Counterexample to premise (1)1. Intentional killing is wrong.4. It is not morally wrong to kill a mosquito.2.Abortion is an intentional killing.5.Killing a mosquito is an intentional killing.3. Therefore, abortion is wrong.6. Therefore, some intentional killings are morally permissible.

Argument II highlights the inconsistency between the claims “Intentional killing is wrong” and “some intentional killings are morally permissible”: both cannot be true. Since most people have good reasons to believe there is no moral harm in killing a mosquito, premise (1) is much too strong, and therefore we have a reason to reject it. If an argument could be made for protecting mosquitoes from intentional killings (that is, an argument that premise (4) is false), this counterexample would not work.

Note also that there would be no problem for premise (1) if it read, instead, “Intentional killing is often wrong,” or “Intentional killing is sometimes wrong.” If the arguer used either of these as a premise, the conclusion would also change to, “Abortion is often wrong” or “Abortion is sometimes wrong.” But almost everyone could agree with the latter conclusion and many with the former (e.g., when it is against the mother's will, when the abortion would cause more harm than not having an abortion), so there would be little need for argument. The whole point is to determine the precise circumstances under which abortion is morally permissible and impermissible. This requires precise principles that help determine, for any particular pregnancy, if or when abortion is permissible.

Using the same example, consider a counterexample to the argument:

Argument IArgument III – Counterexample to Argument I1. Intentional killing is wrong.1. Intentional killing is wrong.2.Abortion is an intentional killing.7.Killing bacteria with antibiotics is an intentional killing.3. Therefore, abortion is wrong.8. Therefore, taking antibiotics is wrong.9.But it is absurd to believe it is not wrong to kill bacteria.10. Therefore, there may be reasons for thinking intentional killing is not wrong in the case of abortion.

In this case, Argument III shows that inserting a different action into premise (2) yields an absurd conclusion, namely, that we are never morally permitted to take antibiotics. But if these premises lead to a conclusion we have independent reasons for thinking is false, something has gone wrong in the original argument. In this case, the first premise is the only feature that is the same in the counterexample; therefore, there must be something wrong with premise (1).

So, the problem with Argument I seems to be its first premise, and we now see two ways to show this:

i. argue directly that it is false (that is, offer a counterexample to a claim), or

ii. argue that accepting the claim in a different set of circumstances leads to an incoherent conclusion (offer a counterexample to an argument).

There are dozens of ways to offer direct arguments against a claim. These involve simply offering a set of premises in support of the conclusion that the claim is false. For instance, if we wanted to construct a direct argument that premise (1) of Argument I is false, we might offer an argument like the following:

Argument IArgument IV – Counterexample to Premise 11. Intentional killing is wrong.11. If intentional killing is always wrong, then life is the most valuable thing in the world.2.Abortion is an intentional killing.12.Life is not the most valuable thing in the world.3. Therefore, abortion is wrong.13. Therefore, intentional killing is not always wrong.

Additional reasons might be required to support the truth of premise (2), but if these premises are true, we have direct reasons for believing that the claim “intentional killing is (always) wrong” is false.

There are two general types of counterexample to an argument, one of which is called The Technique of Variant Cases. In this type, an argument is constructed that has all the same elements as the argument under consideration except the act in question. So, Argument III above is a Variant Case Counterexample; we just substituted “killing bacteria” for “abortion” to show that the one of the premises is incorrect. We have independent reasons for thinking that killing bacteria is not wrong. Of course, if someone could offer good reasons for thinking that taking antibiotics is morally impermissible or that taking antibiotics is not a case of intentional killing, this counterexample would not work.

The second general type of counterexample to an argument is called a Bare Difference Argument. In this type of counterexample, an argument is constructed that has none of the same elements as the argument under consideration except the act in question. Consider, one last time, Argument I:

Argument IArgument V – Bare Difference Counterexample to Argument I1. Intentional killing is wrong.11. Killing in self-defense is not always wrong.2.Abortion is an intentional killing.12.Abortion when the mother's life is threatened is killing in self-defense.3. Therefore, abortion is wrong.13. Therefore, abortion is not always wrong.

In this case, we have changed the circumstances; now we are not simply considering killing, we are considering killing in cases of self-defense. In light of common-sense moral views about self-defense, some cases of abortion are morally permissible. Therefore, we have provided reasons for doubting the conclusion of argument I. If someone could show that killing in self-defense is always wrong or that we never need to perform abortions in defense of a mother (for instance, perhaps a doctor could always perform a Caesarian), then this counterexample would not work.

Keep these techniques in mind as you evaluate and construct moral arguments. They will help you discover the strengths and weaknesses of arguments. And understanding these strengths and weaknesses will help you construct arguments with more strengths than weaknesses and therefore, to make real moral progress.

4. The principle of caution

Moral claims, if any are true, contribute to society in important ways. They help us express and explain why certain actions should not be performed, such as rape and murder, and they help encourage us to perform other actions, such as charitable and self-sacrificial ones. Ethical problems are often, as ethicist Tom Regan named one of his books, Matters of Life and Death. But in some cases, there doesn't seem to be enough evidence to make an informed judgment about the truth of a moral claim.

For instance, in the animal rights debate, it is not clear to many what it would mean for an animal to have moral “rights,” or even moral value, independently of their relationship to humans (what are “rights” anyway?). Animals fight, kill, and eat one another, and there seems to be nothing good or bad, moral or immoral, about any of it – at least no more than a volcano erupting and wiping out a species 2,000 years before humans walked the earth. But just because it is difficult to determine whether animals have rights, since they might and since rights are morally significant, it seems we would be well advised to proceed with caution when it comes to how we treat them.

For instance, James Rachels writes, “there is no general answer to the question of how chimps may be treated. There are only the various ways of treating them and the various considerations that count for and against those treatments” (2008: 442). Similarly, there is very little consensus (and very little evidence to go on) about what conditions constitute “personhood,” “welfare,” or “happiness,” or under what conditions it might be morally permissible to steal from the greedy, lying owners of a record label by illegally downloading their productions.

Nevertheless, we don't want to be murderers or thieves or cruel (at least we hope none of us wants to be those things). Therefore, with respect to ethical claims and arguments, it is advisable to err on the side of caution. Just as we would not want anyone in our contemporary society to say, “Well, the reasons given for and against the claim that Hispanics have the same rights as Caucasians sort of cancel one another out, therefore I am not rationally obligated to believe they have the same rights,” we must also be careful with broad statements like, “Well, the reasons given for and against the claim that animals have rights are inconclusive, therefore I am not rationally obligated to treat them as if they do,” or “The argument that an eight-week-old fetus is a person and has a right to life is seriously flawed, so I can treat my fetus however I want.” It is true that if the reasons are really inconclusive, there is no rational obligation either way. But the principle of caution is not, strictly speaking, a rational principle; it is a pragmatic and moral principle. It may be that animals do not have rights and it may be that an eight-week-old fetus is no more morally significant than your fingernail, but the consequences of being wrong are very high. Therefore, a prudent reasoner will evaluate moral claims carefully and believe cautiously.

Six Common Fallacies in Ethical Reasoning