De-extinction is a peculiar topic. I never thought I’d have to consider the ethics of resurrecting the genetic line of a lost species, but science continues to surprise and scare me with its possibilities. On one hand, several immediate moral objections against this technology immediately come to mind, many of which T.J. Kasperbauer more thoroughly discusses in his paper (from which this blog post draws to inform its content). On the other hand, I would love to see a living woolly mammoth. My mom probably would, too. And I don’t think it’s too controversial an opinion to believe that many people have their own ‘woolly mammoths,’ i.e., their own personal preferences of species that they would love and appreciate to see in-person (perhaps constituting an ethical problem in itself, for those insensitive and foolish enough to hold captive dangerous animals in their backyard, primarily for these creatures’ exotic status). Still, the satisfaction of my preferences, nor of those of any human, should not serve as the chief basis of justifying de-extinction; on the contrary, there better be good, defensible reasons for bringing back species that have gone extinct, many of whom have died out in the first place due to human arrogance and moral negligence.

I will ignore for now the objection that these scientific developments are unnatural, or that they are another reprehensible human attempt of achieving mastery over nature. I admit I do believe there’s something fundamentally disturbing about so intimately manipulating genes – I think there’s some wisdom to be found in Shelley’s Frankenstein, alongside other pertinent science fiction cautioning us against zombifying life – but I’m willing to set aside my feelings for the sake of considering whether there are ecological benefits to de-extinction, as well as individual benefits for the animals and plants themselves. One obvious reason for pursuing this technology is the potential good it offers to eco-systems that would benefit from the re-introduction of extinct species (Kasperbauer 3). These animals and plants could provide critical functions that regulate and work towards the health of an eco-system, such as deterring pests, or acting as predators, or serving as prey themselves. Insofar as de-extinction offers a means of providing these vital roles that other species (or other forms of technology) may not be able to fulfill, the potential benefits do seem valuable. Of course, we’d still have to consider the individual suffering entailed by bringing these animals into existence,¹ but if we are holistic eco-centrists who endorse the value of species and their genetic lines over individuals, as espoused by Rolston,² then this objection appears less grave. Kasperbauer does point out, however, that the original cause of extinction for many of these animals still exists, as with hunting practices (4), and de-extinction doesn’t address these other separate moral (and indeed, political) dimensions that are, in themselves, matters of ethical debate. We certainly wouldn’t want to revive an animal species solely to create more targets for a crossbow, and I think in this conversation regarding de-extinction, we should take more seriously the question of whether we humans are even ready for this kind of power and technology.

I’m inclined to believe otherwise. And I don’t see it as unwarranted cynicism due to past human failures. I do firmly believe that science holds so much wondrous potential to affirm our proper relationship to the natural world, to restore so much that has been lost, and to discover what good can yet be done for our eco-community. So, perhaps in the future I wouldn’t have to be as worried as I am whenever new and powerful scientific developments are on the horizon. I think such caution is justifiable now, however. At present, humankind appears to me to be at the precipice of a drastic ideological shift in how we ought to view our relationship to the natural word, relative to the existential threats (of climate change, of massive pollution, of plastic, of other environmental problems) to ourselves and to the plants and animals with whom we live. I do fear that de-extinction carries with it a real moral hazard to become complacent and morally deficient with how we treat species at present. After all, if reviving these animals in the future always remains a possibility, why worry about their continued existence in the present? Why not defer responsibility to the future, especially during this time when we humans are already playing with our own potential extinction? This line of thinking seriously worries me, and I think it should worry anyone who wouldn’t normally give a second thought about the ethics of de-extinction. Certainly, I don’t think this technology necessarily entails this type of outcome; nor do I believe that this technology, which, by itself, has much value in other areas of scientific research, is morally impermissible despite its potential for abuse. Still, I think there is much prudence in withholding my desire to see a woolly mammoth, until the day I know it will arrive in a safer and more responsible world.

Footnotes

¹ Plants involve a more complex discussion since they lack sentience, and it is being debated whether their lack of sentence entails a lack of interests that can be violated, or if this objection can apply to them.

² Rolston discusses this topic extensively in his paper.

Works Cited

Kasperbauer, T.J. “Should We Bring Back the Passenger Pigeon? The Ethics of De-Extinction.” Ethics, Policy & Environment, vol. 20, no. 1, 2017, pp. 1-14. https://doi.org/10.1080/21550085.2017.1291831

~ John

 

The sustained, widespread environmental degradation caused by human activity has given environmentalists reason to reflect on whether it is ethically permissible for couples to bring into existence a child, who will undoubtedly carry some eco-footprint. Restricting procreation may appear shocking, objectionable, and too great a personal sacrifice for some, but in consumerist North America, where the average American contributes far more to environmental degradation than people in developing countries (Young 184), the argument to limit procreation seems more plausible. It is not uncommon to feel that we should try to minimize our harm on the planet. It is not uncommon to feel that we should we be doing more. And yet it is strikingly uncommon to find couples consider the environmental consequences of having a child. Thomas Young argues that consistency demands we view procreation in the same way as overconsumption (“eco-gluttony” [185], in Young’s words), and he concludes that procreation in developed countries like the US is, in most cases, morally wrong.¹ This blog post scrutinizes Young’s argument, suggests an approach to the morality of procreation that adopts virtue ethics as its underlying normative ethical theory, and aims to show that procreation is morally permissible in more circumstances than Young considers.

Young points out that “mainstream environmentalism” is inconsistent in how it views the morality of eco-gluttony relative to that of procreation: the former is viewed as condemnable while the latter is permissible. But for Young, if we understand eco-gluttony as selfish, imprudent, and morally wrong, then we should also understand having children voluntarily as selfish, imprudent, and morally wrong, since the potential environmental impacts of these two life decisions are analogous (185). Conversely, if we accept that the environmental consequences of parenthood are permissible, then we must accept that the environmental consequences of eco-gluttony are permissible. Since environmental ethics is intuitively incompatible with a lifestyle of eco-gluttony, then it is preferable not to have children. Indeed, in most cases, Young considers it morally wrong.

As Young notes, one can object to his analogy by pointing out that “[d]ecisions to procreate are usually less selfish (however defined) than lifestyle choices involving eco-gluttony” (186). Young responds, however, that parenthood also tends to be selfishly motivated, thus rendering no significant moral difference between it and eco-gluttony. In many instances, parents bring children into the world for the sake of their own interests, rather than those of their children: couples who choose to procreate in order to fulfill social expectations or personal ambitions of having children are acting to fulfill their own desires, despite how well-meaning and earnest these couples may be. In cases where one has children solely as a means of becoming loved and wanted, or as a means of ‘saving’ a failing relationship with their partner, the non-altruistic intentions are much clearer. Indeed, upon closer inspection one can observe that parenthood is often a profoundly selfish act. I wish to scrutinize this point more thoroughly, however, and reframe the objection in terms of virtue ethics to undermine Young’s analogy,² as I will maintain that the decision to become a parent can be weighted differently than he suggests. For this discussion, I roughly assume a desirable virtue of environmental altruism, for which each moral agent should be expected to promote the good of the environment and to reduce their eco-footprint.

I maintain that couples who choose to procreate for no better motivation than for the selfish ones noted, act viciously. This point does not conflict with Young’s argument. I will reject, however, that there are no morally significant differences between the motivations of eco-gluttony and that of procreation. The difference is that the eco-glutton always acts viciously; there is no ethically defensible mean in wilfully overconsuming one’s fair share and in ignoring the environmental harm of one’s sizeable eco-footprint.³ The parent, however, is not always guilty of the same vice, for several reasons I will maintain: first, a potential parent cannot be morally required to sacrifice their desire to have children. Opponents of procreation like Young tend to understate or deny the moral value in kinship by reducing the wish to have offspring to merely another desire of acquiring personal happiness, which can potentially be foregone for the sake of the environment. This reduction is vastly problematic. Some may certainly be able to live their lives happily without having children, but for others it may be a much greater sacrifice than opponents acknowledge. Some may very well see parenthood as their life’s final purpose and structure their entire life to achieve this goal of becoming good parents, the denial of which can entail life-altering pain. I argue that the sacrifice is too great in these cases, and one does not act viciously for not making it. A proper environmental ethics should guide us in co-existing with the natural world, but not compel us to suffer so drastically for it. Moreover, Young fails to acknowledge some of the political and cultural dimensions involved in his argument, as some populations like indigenous communities, whose lineages have been historically and systematically suppressed, have good reason to feel the need to have children, in order to preserve their cultural heritage – Young cannot implicate everyone in North America equally.

One can be a parent and still maintain a virtue of environmental altruism, but it follows that these parents must aspire to become environmentally altruistic agents and must teach their children to be the same. Due to environmental degradation, I argue that procreation, in most cases, is thus morally permissible only if these conditions are satisfied. Certainly, one can object that even the best and most eco-friendly parent cannot guarantee that their child will adopt the same virtues. But in terms of remaining environmentally altruistic, raising a child to be ecologically conscious is the best one can do as a parent, and the actions of their children are to be evaluated separately. This objection does highlight, however, the moral necessity to be an excellent parent for one who does choose to have children, since they voluntarily decide to expand their current eco-footprint. Choosing to become a parent will thus require more serious deliberation than conventionally recognized, and if one does not believe they can fulfill these environmental requirements, then having children cannot be justified. Nor will it morally suffice to have children solely for shallow reasons, or without considering at all the environmental consequences, as these remain vicious motivations. Rather, one must exercise a great degree of prudence in their decision to start a family.

Footnotes

¹ Young states that his argument is primarily directed toward Americans, but that his argument also applies to anyone who consumes more than the average American (184).

² Virtue ethics is an agent-based normative ethical theory that evaluates morality relative to the character of the agent, rather than the action. Whereas some act-based ethical theories evaluate right or wrong based on the consequences of an action (consequentialism), or on its adherence to moral duties we hold (deontology), virtue ethics regards the agent’s character in moral deliberation. In simple terms, virtues are desirable states of character that one develops through constant habituation – e.g. one attains the virtues of justice and prudence by consistently acting just and prudent. Virtues are identified as the mean between two extremes – e.g. the virtue of courage is the mean between cowardice (a deficiency) and recklessness (an excess).

³ Young briefly considers that eco-gluttony can be done based on altruistic motives, similar to the decision to procreate (186). I reject this analogy, however, and I reject that exercising eco-gluttony, even when done for the pleasure of others, is altruistic rather than vicious. Neither are these instances comparable to altruistic reasons for procreation.

Works Cited

Young, Thomas. “Overconsumption and Procreation: Are they Morally Equivalent?.” Journal of Applied Philosophy, vol. 18, no. 2, 2001, pp. 183-192.

 

~ John

There is good reason to be skeptical about the belief that scientific progress can fully address global issues of food insecurity and sustainability solely through technological growth and innovation. So-called “techno-fixes” are often understood by critics as short-sighted, morally deficient, and oftentimes dangerous because of the unforeseen harm they may cause. Still, some action must be taken presently to accommodate the needs of an ever-expanding human population, and technology has much to offer when human behaviour refuses to give way. This blog post will scrutinize both positions and argue for a middle ground that demonstrates there being no necessary conflict between the two.

            Techno-fixes attempt to “redefine, or ‘reframe,’ a problem that is fundamentally social in nature as a technological problem” (Scott 209), i.e., techno-fixes attempt to curb widespread social problems (such as food insecurity) by implementing technological solutions (such as genetically modifying crops to increase productivity and food supply). It is important to highlight that, though the term is often used by critics pejoratively, a techno-fix is not necessarily harmful or morally wrong, and technology can certainly be used as a pragmatic means of aiding, rather than undermining, the goal of collective survival. Techno-fixes are pernicious, however, when they attempt to reduce complex political, socioeconomic, and moral problems into solely scientific ones: hostile architecture (urban-design and architecture such as spiked surfaces designed to control human behavior in public spaces – often to deter the homeless) is a good example of a harmful techno-fix that treats a social problem (homelessness) as though it were simply a technological one, and not a multi-faceted issue caused by inequality. So, one must exercise healthy caution when science attempts to offer a solution that might only “address the symptoms and not the disease” (Scott 209), or when science believes it has solved a social problem it has only served to perpetuate.

            For these reasons, opponents of biotechnology tend to reject alleged techno-fixes such as genetically modified and genetically engineered food organisms as a proper solution to the problem of global food sustainability – accusing them as a harmful display of (primarily Western) human culture’s Promethean arrogance, in its goal to master the natural world, and as placing uncritical faith in the historical structure of Western scientific progress (Scott 210). Biotechnology is often criticized for presuming that humans are free to alter and shape non-human entities to satisfy primarily human interests. Some environmentalists like Mark Lynas have pushed back against anti-biotechnology movements by arguing that they are wrongfully prejudiced against genetic modification, based on unscientific claims of what is ‘natural’ (which, in the first place, as Lynas rightly points out, fallaciously conflate ‘natural’ with ‘right,’ ‘unnatural’ with ‘wrong’). Still, as discussed earlier, the concerns regarding techno-fixes cannot be reduced solely to whether they are natural or unnatural means of tackling a social problem. Insofar as techno-fixes can subtly undermine the need and call for social justice when they attempt to ‘repair’ a social issue through technology, much remains problematic. Certainly, even if genetic modification resulted in a vast increase in food supply by rendering crops more resistant to disease (granting these modifications to be morally permissible and there being no intrinsic wrong in artificially altering species), one still faces the problem of guaranteeing that these new gains can be distributed equitably among vulnerable populations, and that they do not, for example, fall largely into the hands of the privileged and the elite. This latter concern is a more profound reason why global hunger exists in the first place, and is primarily an economic, socio-political, and (as I would argue) moral problem that falls squarely outside the scope of genetic modification. There are certainly other worries as well in the potentially harmful cultural and scientific intervention of the West that needs to be imposed onto other territories to achieve this techno-fix. At best, it can only seem to buy us time.

            Still, global food insecurity and malnutrition will not wait for philosophers, politicians, and scientific authorities to dictate the best course of action, as these problems claim more and more lives every day. In this regard, opponents of biotechnology can appear to be idealistic purists — technological innovation can, at the very least, aid us in securing some success in reducing the amount of suffering while humans continue to prove themselves slow in conducting meaningful societal change. Part of the worry from opponents of biotechnological solutions seems to be that technological progress might be outpacing the rate at which humans develop their social and moral sensibilities, that technology will supersede the need to participate in social justice and instead foster a culture of moral mediocrity. The debate need not be reduced to this either/or. There is little reason to believe that the implementation of a techno-fix cannot instead magnify, rather than diminish, the need and collective call-to-action of addressing global problems like food insecurity through a moral and political lens. Rather, the presence of techno-fixes should constantly remind and expose us to there being deeper, underlying issues in these problems that need to be addressed, and that we cannot shirk responsibility through innovation. We can instead be more motivated to work toward building a better society because of the presence of these techno-fixes, and not despite of them.

Works Cited

Scott, Dane. “The Technological Fix Criticisms and the Agricultural Biotechnology Debate.” Journal of Agricultural and Environmental Ethics, vol. 24, no. 3, 2011, pp. 207-206. DOI: 10.1007/s10806-010-9253-7

~ John

 

 

What do we owe to the land from which we draw food, shelter, and our sense of being? It is a peculiar question, certainly, but perhaps only insofar as it asks us to challenge the narrow limits of a conventional anthropocentrism and, instead, to expand our moral imagination. The ecocentric paradigm, as famously espoused by Aldo Leopold, requires a radical rethinking of our relationship with all non-human others. This post will assess Leopold’s views and outline some of the immediate and urgent ethical implications of an ecological conscience.

Ecocentrism is a philosophical view that acknowledges the intrinsic moral value of the entire biotic community. Whereas some theories of environmental ethics delineate moral standing in the capacity to suffer (sentientism), or in an organism’s status as a living being (biocentrism), ecocentrism extends moral consideration to all members of an ecosystem, including the abiotic components of the environment such as rivers and soil. In A Sand County Almanac, Aldo Leopold sketches a “land ethic” and formulates a principle outlining our communitarian duties to the natural world: “A thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic community. It is wrong when it tends otherwise” (224-225). This theory opposes the hierarchical view that humankind exists as the apex species possessing unlimited access to and authority over the Earth, and it instead reorganizes our place in the biotic community into an egalitarian framework. In Leopold’s words, “a land ethic changes the role of Homo sapiens from conqueror of the land-community to plain member and citizen of it” (204). An ecocentric outlook drastically reduces the otherwise inflated importance of the human being, and it evaluates the morality of our actions relative to their potential effects on our entire ecosystem.

Does the theory hold despite the radicality of its scope? Or does ecocentrism merely carry romanticized sentiments toward beings incapable of moral reflection? The communitarian logic with which Leopold constructs his arguments tells us that we have moral obligations to the communities that shape our sense of self. Certainly, a person’s individuality is inseparable from the complex set of cultural, artistic, sociopolitical, and economic circumstances that they inherit and in which they are raised; we have clear duties to promote the good of the communities that make us who we are. But a person also has various fundamental needs like food, water, and shelter, that can be provided for only by drawing from their eco-community. And as Leopold argues, an ecocritical reading of our human history informs us that “[m]any historical events…were actually biotic interactions between people and land” (205), which implies that humans are directly shaped and affected by the land to a greater degree than we have traditionally recognized. Analogous to our duties toward our human community, an ecological conscience asks us to consider our duties toward the land that enables our very existence.

The critic may certainly argue that such an analogy is false, that the cooperation exhibited by human social communities is an intentional exchange, while our eco-community lacks intentionality. But this objection re-centers the debate on familiar, anthropocentric terms and ignores the various forms of non-human cooperation that exist across the natural world. It attempts to preserve a false separation between humans and their animalistic origins, as though the duties and requirements for co-existence do not supersede the accidental (i.e., secondary) intentions of achieving survival. An ecological perspective, however, reminds us of the humble place in which humans are situated within the natural world. The Earth hardly requires us for its continued existence; on the contrary, the most minuscule of micro-organisms and bacteria that work to decompose organic matter and enrich the soil play a far greater role in the survival of the ecological community than the human who tramples them underfoot. Centuries have passed since physics and astronomy first explained that the universe does not revolve around us, yet the presently accepted anthropocentrism codified in law and policy that works primarily toward human benefit and economic growth hardly reflects an understanding of both our cosmic and ecological limitations. Can a constant, willful, and vicious exploitation of the environment to which we owe our lives and luxuries be any less than antithetical to our moral intuitions?

The implications of ecocentrism are vast and numerous. Many have yet to be considered, but what can be said for certain is that an ecological conscience forgoes domination for cooperation, exploitation for mutualism, in an interconnected world. Recognizing our place among the biotic community humbles us in our relationship to the land on which we depend. An ecological conscience will undoubtedly require us to give more, to take less, and to sacrifice many of the present luxuries to which we have grown accustomed and which have never belonged solely to humans. Rather, no proper system of ethics can be that does not extend moral consideration to the land which allows and nourishes its existence.

~John

 

Works Cited

Leopold, Aldo. A Sand County Almanac: And Sketches Here and There. 1949. Oxford UP, 1989.