John G. Messerly's Blog, page 25

The Death of Democracy

[image error][image error]© Darrell Arnold Ph.D.– (Reprinted with Permission) http://darrellarnold.com/2018/07/12/h...

We all know of democratic institutions that have ended by revolution or coup. Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt, two professors of government at Harvard University, highlight another way that they increasingly end — through a slow erosion of institutions by those who were democratically elected to oversee them.

In How Democracies Die[image error] the authors apply their knowledge of the collapse of democratic institutions from Europe and Latin America to analyze the erosion of democratic norms in the United States. While the constitutional system and the norms in the United States under Trump are still preserving democracy, the erosion of norms is alarming. Trump has the tendencies of the European and Latin American demagogues that Levitsky and Ziblatt have spent their lives studying; and he is doing much that demagogues elsewhere have done to undermine democratic institutions. So far, the Republican Congress has also adopted a policy of appeasement very much like what we find where demagogues have assumed power. They have largely failed to play the needed gatekeeping role.

At the outset of the book Levitsky and Ziblatt outline how “fateful alliances” in many countries have allowed demagogues to assume power. In many cases, those who undermine democracies come into their leadership as political outsiders. To gain respectability, they are dependent on political insiders opening doors and pursuing their agendas. As the authors note: “A sort of devil’s bargain often mutates to the benefit of the insurgent” (15). Many times the political outsiders display authoritarian behavior, but the insiders think they can keep them under control, so support them for reasons of political expediency. Rather than blocking would-be dictators, the “fateful alliances” help usher the insurgents into power. “The abdication of political responsibility by existing leaders often marks a nation’s first step toward authoritarianism” (19).

In many cases, the demagogues come to power because of a lack of good mechanisms for gatekeeping. In the U.S. authoritarian figures have emerged again and again throughout history. Henry Ford is one such extremist. He railed against Jews, bankers, communists, and was impressive enough to Adolf Hitler to receive his praise in Mein Kampf (43ff.). Ford at one time had political aspirations. He nearly won a Senate seat in 1918 and was in discussions for a presidential run in 1924. However, the party establishment of the time was able to successfully block him. Huey Long and Father Charles Coughlin are two well-known autocratic figures from the 1930s. Joseph McCarthy is perhaps the most famous example from the 1950s. Like Trump, these leaders played to populism. Unlike Trump, they were successfully blocked from ascendancy to the presidency.

Levitsky and Ziblatt think there are two main reasons that account for Trump’s success: 1) the Citizen’s United decision, which made it much easier to have nearly unlimited funding of elections; and 2) the emergence of new media. The latter includes both Fox News and various right-wing radio and TV personalities, which David Frum has called the “conservative entertainment complex” (see 56) as well as social media. Trump was a great beneficiary of both. Despite the NeverTrump movement and warnings from a few Republican Party insiders, public opinion during the election was able to hold strong, in no small part because of the aid of commentators like Sean Hannity and Ann Coulter, as well as the increasingly important Breitbart news.

There are four main indicators of authoritarian behavior that the authors highlight: 1) the rejection of democratic institutions or at least a weak commitment to them; 2) the denial of the legitimacy of political opponents; 3) the toleration or encouragement of violence; and 4) the desire or willingness to reduce civil liberties (see 23ff., 61ff.). Even before his election, Trump displayed all four in ways by now familiar. The Republicans abdicated their responsibility to democracy, failing to take a principled stance against him. Often for reasons of expediency, they supported him despite his unfitness for office and of the clear danger even to the constitutional order that many of them indicated he presented.

They did this for reasons that are common in such circumstances. 1) They thought they might control him. (There was much talk that he would be different once he assumed office). 2) There was “ideological collusion.” While even on the eve of the election, 78 Republicans came out supporting Clinton in a piece in the Washington Post, only one of them was an elected official (69). Those in office chose political expediency. Like others who have made fateful alliances, they thought they could control him, or that given that he would push along their agenda of tax cuts and court picks, the risk was worth it.

Once in power demagogues set about to subvert democracy. As Levitsky and Ziblatt note: “The erosion of democracy takes place piecemeal, often in baby steps.” Though there is no exact blueprint, certain steps are very common. One is the attempt to “capture the referees” (78). Independent checks and balances are a hindrance to power, so insurgents will typically try to win them to their side, or failing that attack them as they work to undermine their independence. “Contemporary autocrats tend to hide their repression behind a veneer of legality” (83).

So the demagogue works within the system to capture independent checks and to eliminate independent voices. Some things prove easier to do: One can fire civil servants and non-partisans and replace them with loyalists (79). If the courts or intelligence community is independent, then it is typical to undermine them. The long game is to gain them to one’s side though since this is a way to create a ruse of legitimacy. If one succeeds in capturing them, then they can be used as a weapon to investigate or prosecute one’s enemies and to protect oneself and one’s allies (78ff.).

Other independent voices in civil society also need to be quieted. If one has an independent press, then one can attempt to intimidate them into self-censorship. Trump’s threats to open up libel laws for bias in the press is one of his attempts to do this. Failing this, he, like various authoritarian leaders, undermines their legitimacy. His well-known accusations that they are “enemies of the people” and produce “fake news” are clear and repeated attempts to undermine the significance of their independence.

Another typical course of action is to undermine influential and independent business leaders, who might pose a threat. Trump’s threats to sue Jeff Bezos, the owner of Amazon and the Washington Post, for breaching antitrust law come to mind, as well as his threats to hinder the proposed merger of Time Warner and AT&T. Authoritarians also often do what they can to silence alternative cultural voices, such as actors, stars, athletes. From attacks on Susan Sarandon to NFL players, examples in the Trump administration are not wanting.

Another part of the long game is to ultimately change the rules of the game and even the constitution itself. Rule changes can occur in numerous areas. In voting procedures, we have seen the attempts that preceded Trump have increased, as various voter suppression tactics — from gerrymandering to voter ID laws and the purging of voter registration lists. All of these target those who tend to vote Democratic.

Very often autocrats benefit from exploiting crisis “to justify power grabs” (95). In some famous cases, such as Hitler’s Reichstag fire and Putin’s allegations of Chechen terrorist attacks, there is considerable question about whether the crises were even real or fabricated. Nonetheless, in both cases, power was able to be expanded as civil liberties were sacrificed for security purposes. Very often leaders are able to consolidate power after such crises as their popularity also soars. As rules of the game are often rewritten in such times of crisis, it’s not unusual that people hardly notice.

While Levitsky and Ziblatt think that the constitution is very important, they emphasize that it alone will not secure a democracy. Numerous countries with constitutions similar to our own have had failed democracies. Argentina and the Philippines are just two examples (100). In addition to the constitution, the authors emphasize the importance of “strong democratic norms.” These include toleration of differences among the political parties and “institutional forbearance” (see 102 ff.) The former means that one can respect one’s political opponents without viewing them as enemies. In democracies, this often means that one doesn’t make full use of some powers that may not be explicitly prohibited in the constitution, but that have emerged as unspoken rules for interaction that secure civility and the long-term functioning of the political system. As Levitsky and Ziblatt colloquially describe the thought behind this: “Think of democracy as a game that we want to keep playing indefinitely. To ensure future rounds of the game, players must refrain from either incapacitating the other team or antagonizing them to such a degree, that they refuse to play again tomorrow” (107).

The authors describe the breakdown in such norms in various regimes where democracy has failed and highlight the decline of such norms in the U.S. system as politicians have increasingly come to play what Mark Tushnet has called “constitutional hardball” (109). Many things not explicitly prohibited are then done even where long-standing custom dictates otherwise.

Some of the best parts of the book outline how the gatekeepers and the unwritten rules emerged and functioned in the history of American politics, and the threats to the democratic norms that the country experienced. In the history of the U.S., the gatekeeping that did emerge and the “democratic norms” were accompanied by exclusionary policy toward African-Americans and women, such that the U.S. for most of this history could not be characterized as fully democratic.

It was by no means an easy road to where we ended in the 1970s when women and African-Americans were more meaningfully included into U.S. politics. From there, though, the authors highlight the decline in the democratic norms that began in the 1980s. Newt Gingrich and Tom DeLay were among the first to reintroduce “constitutional hardball,” undermining nearly all efforts for cooperation with the Democrats when they were in power. Americans for Tax Freedom and various heavy donors associated with them, as well as the emergent Tea Party, all have continued to contribute to the erosion of democratic norms and unwritten rules of governance. Democrats have reacted to that, with their own incursions, but the authors leave no doubt that in recent history this problem has largely been perpetrated by the Republican Party.

All of this leads us to Trump, who the authors’ view as a unique figure in the history of U.S. politics in the ways that he undermines democratic norms. The book usefully highlights instances that display his autocratic character and his attempts to undermine checks and balances of the U.S. political system and to capture the traditional guardians of our democracy.

Though our constitutional checks have so far proved able to guard against their ongoing attack, Trump’s undermining of the norms of democracy is worrying. One reason is that his rhetoric begins to normalize both attitudes and behavior that undermine our constitutional system.

Writing of his behavior, they note: “Never has a president flouted so many unwritten rules so quickly” (195). Where there is a long-standing norm against nepotism, he breaks with it, appointing his daughter and son-in-law in key advisory posts within his administration. Where there is a norm of divesting investments, he breaks with it in ways that the governmental ethics commission has been critical. Where civility with former rivals and outgoing presidents has prevailed, Trump has ended it, having threatened to have Hillary Clinton investigated and having falsely accused Barack Obama of having spied on him during his campaign. He has not only attacked the press in ways that we are by now familiar with, but he has also at times excluded them from major press events. He has attacked the judiciary and the intelligence community, after reportedly having asked for James Comey’s commitment of personal loyalty. His pardon of Joe Arpaio directly undermined a decision of one of the branches of government put in place to check presidential power.

So Trump has flouted typical restraint. Trump has also lied at a level truly unprecedented. According to PolitiFact, in the 2016 election, 69% of his public statements were mostly false. The New York Times showed that he made demonstrably false statements at least once a day his first forty days in office (198). None of this shows any likelihood of abating.

Through all of this, Trump is undermining American soft power abroad. As the authors note: “America is no longer a democratic model. A country whose president attacks the press threatens to lock up his rival and declares that he might not accept elections results cannot credibly defend democracy” (206). The U.S. is in “a period of democratic recession” (205).

Levitsky and Ziblatt see two main forces that are responsible for this situation: One is America’s racial and religious realignment. The other is the growth in economic inequality. The new racial and religious demographic fuels polarization, and politicians have become increasingly beholden to outside money, not controlling their parties themselves. We now need a “multi-ethnic democracy” where the politicians are not as beholden to their funders.

How Democracies Die is an extremely informative book. But it is especially in the proposal of what to do in the final chapter on “saving democracy” that the book disappoints a bit. The main point of the authors is that democratic norms are essential to the functioning of democracy. The authors thus end with something of a moral plea to return to democratic norms and expand them for an inclusive society. As they note in the closing pages: “Ultimately…American democracy depends on us–the citizens of the United States. No single political leader can end a democracy; no single leader can rescue one, either. Democracy is a shared enterprise. Its fate depends on us all” (230).

That is true enough. But it also doesn’t get us very far.

Nonetheless, this book does a great service in at least clearly describing typical steps that lead to failed democracies. That will surely be useful for those trying to prevent the further erosion of ours.

“All Things Must Pass”

[image error]

Everything changes; everything evolves, all is transitory. This may be the fundamental fact of life. Buddhist philosophy is particularly insightful on this point with its distinction between gross and subtle impermanence. In simple language, George Harrison set this idea to music.

“All Things Must Pass”

Sunrise doesn’t last all morning
A cloudburst doesn’t last all day
Seems my love is up and has left you with no warning
It’s not always going to be this greyAll things must pass
All things must pass awaySunset doesn’t last all evening
A mind can blow those clouds away
After all this, my love is up and must be leaving
It’s not always going to be this greyAll things must pass
All things must pass away
All things must passNone of life’s strings can last
So, I must be on my way
And face another day
Now the darkness only stays the night-time
In the morning it will fade away
Daylight is good at arriving at the right time
It’s not always going to be this grey
All things must pass
All things must pass away
All things must pass
All things must pass away

“Dulce Et Decorum Est”

[image error]

Wilfred Owen MC (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) was an English poet and soldier, one of the leading poets of the First World War. His shocking, realistic war poetry on the horrors of trench warfare stood in stark contrast to both the public perception of war at the time and to the patriotic verse written by earlier war poets such as Rupert Brooke. Among his best-known works – most of which were published posthumously – are “Dulce et Decorum est“, “Insensibility“, “Anthem for Doomed Youth“, “Futility” and “Strange Meeting“.

He was wounded in combat in 1917 and wrote many of his most important poems while recovering in the hospital near Edinburgh. He rejoined his regiment in June 1918, and in August, he returned to France. He was awarded the Military Cross for bravery at Amiens. He was killed on November 4 of that year while attempting to lead his men across the Sambre-Oise canal at Ors. He was 25 years old. The news of his death reached his parents one week later on November 11,  Armistice Day, which marked the end of the war. He is buried at Ors Communal Cemetery.

Of his many great war poems, this is one of the very best. (“Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori,” are the first words of a Latin saying (taken from an ode by Horace). The words, widely quoted at the start of the First World War, mean “It is sweet and right to die for your country.”) The poem, as well as two readings of it, are found below one with actual footage of the Battle of Somme.

Dulce Et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!– An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.–
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

And a newer reading:

 

Piano Music For Solace

[image error]

All the pain of the world … but then there are the melodies of piano music to provide a modicum of solace. The beautiful short pieces below supply a bit of respite from our troubles. A few new pieces and some of the classics. The artists include two children and a blind man. (A special thanks to Luigi for reminding me about beautiful music.)

Religious Fanaticism: Abortion

[image error]The Fanatics of Tangier by Eugène Delacroix

I taught ethics classes in a university setting for over 30 years and I’m well versed in the philosophical literature surrounding abortion. And, as I have stated previously, the pro-life position finds virtually no support in this literature. But rather than penning another academic essay on the topic, I want to write a visceral response to the forthcoming Supreme Court decision.

Ok. So you believe there is an invisible supernatural superbeing (presumably male) and you believe this superbeing puts invisible souls (whatever those are) into newly fertilized, microscopic eggs. (By the way, this is NOT a Biblical position if that is something you care about.) This sounds insane to me but I suppose some people really believe this. Ok. Your religious beliefs are your own; they don’t have to make sense to me.

But I become enraged when people decide that their theological speculations give them the right to interfere in other people’s lives, impose their values on others, and use the coercive power of the law to force others to abide by their wild speculations. Believe whatever you want about fetuses and invisible gods and invisible souls but if you’re not the pregnant woman, what happens to that pregnancy is none of your business.

What then does follow from your fervent beliefs about the ontological status of fetuses? Don’t have an abortion, that’s what follows. You may also try to present arguments to convince people that your views are correct. But you should not coerce women; try to make it illegal for others to do what you don’t like.

Besides, your merciful god will let probably let those microscopic cells that now have souls into heaven. Surely he (obviously he’s a man) won’t send them to hell. Of course, that god is very busy putting those souls into the approximately 1 million newly fertilized eggs around the world each day. (Back of the envelope calculation. Almost 400,000 babies are born each day, only about half of the newly fertilized eggs implanted in the uterine wall plus many other pregnancies don’t result in live births.) And by the way, this implies that your (imaginary) god is the world’s greatest abortionist.

But if one of my daughter’s birth control fails (religious fanatics want to outlaw that too) and they don’t want more children then I abhor you trying to penalize them for the choice they make. Thankfully they now live in a progressive state in the USA but the zealots have their eyes on outlawing abortion and the abortion pill nationally. Soon they’ll be eyeing contraception. Why not just go all the way and make it illegal not to be Christian? You could torture those who aren’t. Bring back the Middle Ages! But again, religion has long been trying to control people and tell them what to do. That’s its business model!

The problem arises because religions believe they have a monopoly on truth. Of course, these so-called truths of the thousands of religions are mutually incompatible so they can’t all be true. But once you think that you have the truth then you’ll want to force your beliefs on others. Fly planes into buildings, conduct inquisitions, deny the HPV vaccine to young girls, force childbirth, and on and on.

Alito, Thomas, Gorsuch, and Kavanaugh would have been great torturers in the Middle Ages—real Torquemadas. Men just love to tell women what to do. Misogyny is, after all, endemic to most religions. And they have Barrett as their female handmaiden. She loves their misogyny and is/was a member of the “People of Praise” cult. How self-certain all these Catholics are of the truth of their wild metaphysical speculations about the ontological status of fetuses. They are all so sanctimonious.

Now, do I think that I’m right that a microscopic group of cells isn’t fully human? Yes, I do. This follows almost straightforwardly from the arguments in the philosophical literature.  But I also have epistemic humility. I could be wrong about any of my beliefs thus I don’t try to make laws that force you to do things I don’t like. Maybe I want you to NOT to have children because of overpopulation or because I think you would be unfit parents or because I think it’s too great a risk to your health or because you don’t have sufficient wealth to raise children or because the child will be born exceedingly unhealthy or because having children may itself be immoral.

In fact, there are a lot of things I wish you would do. I wish you wouldn’t kill and eat non-human animals. Not only would you not cause them immense suffering but you would help preserve the environment, reduce climate change, and (since you are so pro-life) live a longer and healthier life yourself. (I became a vegan a few years ago and now weigh 135 pounds, the same as in my early twenties. The evidence that the western diet kills and that a whole food plant-based diet is the healthiest is indisputable. If you are overweight it’s almost certainly because of the western diet rich in unhealthy animal products.) So do the world some real good and become a vegan or at least a vegetarian. That might save the whole planet.

Now that would be something great to legislate—no more meat. (This is inevitable as the planet cannot sustain the environmental toil it takes.) We would save billions in health care costs. Still, I wouldn’t want to use the coercive power of government to force people to eat well. Even though what they eat costs me directly in terms of societal outlays for health care and damage to the environment, I believe people should be free to ruin their health and get all the cancers and heart disease that follows.

And that’s just one example. I wish all these men who want to force childbirth and childrearing on women would wear masks and get vaccinated during a pandemic.  They are putting my life in danger with their reckless, ignorant choices. But no, that’s too much for many of them. I can just imagine what they would do if they were forced to bear and raise children.

Heck, I wish people would learn science rather than take advice from illiterate shepherds from 2000 years or Donald Trump. Still, I don’t want to force people to learn science. If they want to pray to the gods for cures, not take their antibiotics, or reject vaccines … great. They can live in a place that doesn’t know about or believe in modern science like Papau New Guinea or Alabama.

Fanatics convinced of their cause stride across the face of human history trying to impose their values on the rest of us. The old Catholics on the Supreme court are the American Taliban. Who knows what they’ll try to force on us next. They all lied to get into the court and are derelict in their duty which is not to impose their religious beliefs on the rest of us. The founders of the US knew about the centuries of religious wars in Europe and desired a secular government with a strong wall between church and state. (If you think otherwise you simply don’t know American history.) So you are free to set up a private school and teach your children that the universe was created in 7 days about 6,000 years ago. Fine. But don’t make me pay for your private school and don’t bring your religious views into science classes in a public school. Creationism is not science!

In the end, I just hate theocracy. It is opposed to everything I hold dear—science, reason, evidence, critical thinking, progress, tolerance, humanism, autonomy,  and more. Why can’t we all live in places less like Alabama, Arkansas, and Saudi Arabia and more in places like Denmark, Sweden, and Norway? And why is the USA such an outlier among developed nations regarding sexual issues? Because the USA is an outlier regarding religiosity among such nations. So is it really surprising that the best countries to live in the world are the least religious? I don’t think so.

There is so much to say but I don’t have the time to write more. Furthermore, it’s largely pointless. Those fully immersed in religion won’t change their minds. Their lives and relationships are too caught up in it. Fine. But can’t you at least leave the rest of us alone? Of course, we know the answer to that question.

And so the fight that began in the Renaissance and the Enlightenment must continue until ignorance and superstition and theocracy are finally banished from the earth.

Tennyson “Tears Idle Tears”

Alfred Lord Tennyson is one of my favorite poets. I think that “Tears, Idle Tears” is his most moving poem about longing for a past that we can’t recapture, and the melancholy this elicits. The poem was inspired by a visit to Tintern Abbey in Monmouthshire, which was abandoned in 1536. (William Wordsworth’s poem “Tintern Abbey” was also inspired by this location.)

[image error]

Tintern Abbey

While Tennyson’s visit may have prompted the poem, scholars think he had more in mind than an abandoned abbey. His rejection by Rosa Baring and her family may have played a part in the sadness of the poem. Her family disapproved of her relationship with the son of an alcoholic clergyman. This may explain lines like, “kisses . . . by hopeless fancy feign’d/on lips that are for others” and “Deep as first love, and wild with all regret” which have little to do with Tintern Abbey. 

But whatever prompted these beautiful lyrics, all of us have looked out over a field, mountain, or lake, an old school, home, or neighborhood, or have simply been alone with our thoughts and felt the longing for the past which, in retrospect, was fleeting and ephemeral. What was so real then has now receded into oblivion, as will the minds that have those rich memories.

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awaken’d birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign’d
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more!

[image error]

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Ethical Theory as Applied Engineering?

 We are discussing no small matter, but how we ought to live. ~ Socrates In Plato’s Republic 

INTRODUCTION

There are many theories that deny morality: nihilism; determinism; skepticism; relativism; egoism; etc. In my view ethicists too easily dismiss these theories—they have philosophical merit. Nihilism just “feels” wrong, but all of the others are at least partly true and appeal to me to varying degrees.

Most ethical theories try to justify morality.1 Typically this justification has been supplied by: self-interest—theories deriving from Plato and Hobbes; sympathy—theories deriving from Hume and Mill; nature—theories deriving from Aristotle and Aquinas; or reason—theories deriving from Kant and Locke. Let us briefly consider each in turn.

Some contemporary thinkers, Darwall and Gewirth come to mind, have tried to justify morality following Kant. However, few philosophers believe this project has been successful. At most, I would argue, these theories show that morality is weakly rational, i.e., morality is not clearly irrational. But I don’t see how they can show me how another person’s interests give me a reason to do anything.

Few contemporary thinkers have advanced natural law theories in the tradition of Aristotle and Aquinas. Contemporary thinkers try to bridge the is/ought gap with an evolutionary ethics or moral psychology utilizing knowledge of human nature unavailable to ancient and medieval philosophers.2  These projects show more promise.

Theories deriving from considerations of sympathy are also promising. Mill’s utilitarianism was based on a “social feeling,” Hume thought sympathy the basis of morality, Darwin had an entire theory of moral sentiments, and the contemporary philosopher Kai Nielsen places great emphasis on the role of sympathy in morality. It is hard to imagine a justification of the moral life without a role for sympathy.  

Theories deriving from self-interest are promising, and contemporary contract and game theorists, particularly Gauthier, have gone a long way toward sustaining and revitalizing the Hobbesian project. Nonetheless, their results are inconclusive and it is not clear that this approach can resolve the compliance problem. However, combining a contract approach with considerations of our evolutionary nature and ingrained or acquired human sympathies may have more promise.

Finally, there are ethical theories associated with religious and metaphysical views, but a lack of agreement about these views precludes any hope of grounding morality in them. (Of course the same may be said about one or another of our moral theories—that they all suppose some metaphysic and that the dispute about ethics depends on resolving metaphysical issues first.)

SO, WHY BE MORAL?

Let’s explore the issue of self-interest vs. morality—what we might call the hard question of morality—in more detail. (To put it another way, should we care about others less, the same, or more than we care about ourselves?) Hobbes answered the question why we should moral—it is in all of our interests. Still, the question why I should be moral remains unanswered. This is the challenge originally set forth in Plato’s Republic—why should I be moral if I have a ring that makes me invisible? Why be moral if SI demands an immoral course? In short, doesn’t it pays to steal candy when no one is looking and you want candy?

Let’s begin with the prisoner’s dilemma (PD). It is easy to see that self-interest demands defection, a supposedly non-moral move, in a one-time PD. So here self-interest and ordinary morality conflict. The fact that both parties do better through mutual cooperation somewhat ameliorates this conclusion, but does not change the fact that it is better for one to not comply no matter what the other does.

The situation changes when the PD is iterated since tit-for-tat (TFT) has been shown to be a robust strategy. But recent work by Ken Binmore has challenged this assumption. (The “Folk-theorem” is also relevant here.) It is not that TFT is a bad strategy, but that real life is more complex than iterated PDs can model. There may be an infinite number of strategies that are robust, calling into question whether we can even determine what is in our self-interest. And if we don’t know what’s in our interest, how can self-interest ground morality?

Well to begin to answer these questions, consider again our candy stealers. They may arrogantly assume they won’t get caught or suffer the pangs of conscience, that the cameras aren’t rolling, or that we won’t perceive their true motivations and exclude them from cooperation. In short, they can’t determine what is in their self-interest. But can they make an educated guess? Not really. It is too difficult to know the repercussions of their acts and impossible to predict what adopting a disposition to behave will cost them in the long run.3 The complexity of the situation makes complete assessment impossible and reliable judgment unlikely, raising doubts about applying any moral theory to a complex world of interactions with other agents whose psychologies, motives, disposition, and intents are difficult to determine if not opaque.

Thus it is unlikely that self-interest can ground morality or immorality since self-interest can’t be determined with accuracy. So where to from here? In large part, I find myself agreeing with the contemporary philosopher Kai Nielsen. 4

Nielsen wants to know if we have good reasons to assume the immoralist is mistaken. He accepts the view that morality entails sympathy and sensitivity to others, but some people are not moved by such considerations. So, why should those people be moral? Surely pursuing self-interest to the exclusion of morality is not irrational, despite the fact that philosophers as varied as Hobbes, Plato, and Aristotle tell us that the moral life and the happy life are synonymous. But can we really be so sure? Nielsen maintains that whether the bad guys are happy or not depends on what kinds of persons they are, and I agree. Neither rationality nor happiness requires morality: we must simply decide for ourselves how we should act and what sort of persons we will strive to be or become.

This means that considerations of reason, happiness, and self-interest, in the absence of sympathy and a commitment to a moral life, cannot adjudicate between morality and self-interest.5 While both Neilsen and myself find this situation somewhat depressing, we accept that we cannot get to morality with intellect alone. From an objective point of view, reason is impotent to determine our values and thus the moral life demands a non-rational, voluntary commitment. In other words, the moral life and the immoral one are Kantian antimonies, and the choice between them is interfused with existential angst. In the end, we simply choose … and hope.

CAN WE SAY MORE?

I don’t think so. Can we say anything with confidence? We may be able to say that moral rules are contracts or agreements between self-interested people for mutual benefit assuming that others will reciprocate. And that these rules resulted from a protracted process of bargaining and power-struggling from the original biological foundations in reciprocal altruism and kin selection. Of course, we can revolt against biology; we can abandon our children. We choose our own destiny. But moral behavior, like all behavior, always has part of its explanation in its origins. And what can we say regarding what morality should be? Maybe that moral rules ought to promote human flourishing? This strikes me as intuitive, but then, as Wilson told us, we consult our emotions like hidden oracles. And why think our intuitions supply insight into the truth? Perhaps it is better, as Wittgenstein suggested, to remain silent about that which we don’t know.

WHERE TO?

Still, the problem remains. Some individuals don’t comply with their agreements, and viciously flaunt their disregard for the social contract. Does it help to know that we can’t give good self-interested reasons to comply with the social contract? It doesn’t seem so. Traditionally we relied on moral education as a way of ensuring that persons became cooperators. And if they didn’t, we penalized them. Maybe punishment would resolve the problem? Maybe the expansion of cameras will eliminate the invisibility that encourages immoralism. Or maybe, as Aristotle imagined, we can structure society so as to inculcate in persons the kinds of habitual behaviors that benefit us all? Of course, if Aristotle had been aware of behavior modification, mind control, and genetic engineering, he might have advocated more drastic measures to ensure human flourishing.

In fact, if mutual cooperation becomes important enough, ethics may become a branch of applied engineering. We may have to engineer ourselves, removing tendencies adaptive for foragers, but suicidal for beings with technology. Of course, we would lose the freedom to, say, release chemical or nuclear weapons, but this may be a small price to pay for security. And maybe engineering ourselves won’t entail a loss of freedom, but instead free us from some residual effects of our evolution, from overt aggressions and other tendencies that are now anachronistic in a technological world. But whatever we choose to do, one thing is certain, we alone are the stewards of the future of life and mind on this small outpost in an infinite cosmos. We alone must decide where we want to go.

CONCLUSION

Remember that none of the above implies that it is irrational to be moral, only that rationality alone can’t get us to morality. This isn’t to say there aren’t good reasons to be moral. There are. Immoralists might be punished and lose the benefits of cooperation, and moralists don’t have to be looking over their shoulders and may have more friends. All we have said is that we can’t show that the reasons to be moral outweigh the reasons to be immoral if you benefit from and can get away with immorality.

And we have also suggested that it is becoming increasingly within our power to remake the world and ourselves in such a way that no one can benefit from or get away with immorality. While some will object that nightmarish scenarios will follow from our increasing control of immoral behavior, it is quite likely that we will all benefit from a world in which peaceful living can be secured by the application of our knowledge. Ironically, our inability to convincingly answer the “why should I be moral” question in theory, will lead to our answering it in practice. In short, there never have been completely convincing reasons to be moral, evidenced by the barbarism of human history,  but, desperately in need of morality for our survival and flourishing, we will freely choose to transform ourselves by all means at our disposal.

In retrospect, biology and evolutionary stable strategies imposed early moral constraints, philosophical and religious education furthered the project, governments provided the muscle that conscience lacked, and now it is up to us to continue the project so that immorality doesn’t kill us. So we will be the ones who ultimately create the answer to the “why be moral” question.

Notes

Morality defined as a system demanding that persons express care, concern, and interest in others; exemplified by moral rules such as: “don’t kill, lie, cheat, or steal;” “help others;” etc.Virtue ethics, with roots in Plato, Aristotle, the Stoics and Epicureans, and some early Christians, has enjoyed renewed success in the late 20th century thru the work of Anscombe and MacIntyre. But I view virtue ethics as part of some other overall theory of ethics and not as a complete theory in itself.In addition, our passions often cause us to misread situations. Maybe I think there is little chance of being caught because I am a compulsive candy stealer.Nielsen, Kai. “Why Should I Be Moral?—Revisited” American Philosophical Quarterly 21, January 1984.There is however one possible way out of this conundrum. SI justifications of morality are especially difficult because we work with isolated senses of self. If the self is separate from others, if our games are mostly non-zero-sum, it is hard to see why we should care about others. But if the other is an extension of ourselves, then helping others is SI by definition. In that case, zero-sum games are illusory. The problem is that this broad view of self is counter-intuitive.This essay was composed over a single weekend; it is not a substitute for sustained philosophical reflection and research.For an excellent introduction to ethical theory Louis P. Pojman Ethical Theories: Classic and Contemporary Reading or James Rachels’ The Elements of Moral Philosophy.

The Forthcoming Abortion Decision

(This essay was reprinted in Critical Perspectives on Abortion (Analyzing the Issues), Anne C. Cunningham, ed., Enslow Publishing 2017, and first appeared on this blog some years ago.)

Abortion continues to make political news, but a question rarely asked by politicians or other interlocutors is: what do professional ethicists think about abortion? If ethicists have reached a consensus about the morality or immorality of abortion, surely their conclusions should be important. And, as a professional ethicist myself, I can tell you that among ethicists it is exceedingly rare to find defenders of the view that abortion is murder. In fact, support for this anti-abortion position, to the extent it exists at all, comes almost exclusively from the small percentage of philosophers who are theists.  And even among theists, opposition to abortion is far from unanimous. Yet few seem to take notice.

To support the claim that the vast majority of ethicists reject the pro-life position, consider the disclaimer that appears in the most celebrated anti-abortion piece in the philosophical ethics literature, Don Marquis’ “Why Abortion Is Immoral.” Marquis begins:

The view that abortion is, with rare exceptions, seriously immoral has received
little support in the recent philosophical literature. No doubt most philosophers
affiliated with secular institutions of higher education believe that the anti-abortion position is either a symptom of irrational religious dogma or a conclusion generated by seriously confused philosophical argument.

Marquis concedes that abortion isn’t considered immoral according to most ethicists, but why do they not, for the most part, find abortion morally problematic? Perhaps professional ethicists, who are typically non-religious philosophers, find nothing morally objectionable about abortion because they aren’t religious. In other words, if they were devout they would recognize abortion as a moral abomination. But we could easily turn this around. Perhaps religiously oriented ethicists oppose abortion because they are religious. In other words, if there were not devout, they would see that abortion isn’t morally problematic. So both religious and secular ethicists could claim that the other side prejudges the case.

However, it is definitely not the case that secular ethicists care less about life or morality than religious ethicists. Consider that virtually all moral philosophers believe that murder, theft, torture, and lying are immoral because cogent arguments underlie such prohibitions. Oftentimes there is little difference between the views of religious and secular ethicists regarding moral issues. Moreover, when there is disagreement among the two groups, perhaps the secular philosophers are ahead of the ethical curve with their general acceptance of abortion, homosexuality, and certain forms of euthanasia.

How then do we adjudicate disputes in the moral realm when ethicists, like ordinary people, start with different assumptions? The key to answering this question is to emphasize reason and argument, the hallmarks of doing philosophical ethics. Both secular and religious individuals can participate in rational discourse to resolve their disputes. In fact, natural law moral theory—the dominant ethical theory throughout the history of Christianity—claims that morality is grounded in reason, which implies that what is right is supported by the best rational arguments. Natural law theorists argue that, by exercising the human reason their God has given them, they can understand what is right and wrong. Thus secular and religious philosophers work in the same arena, one where moral truths are those supported by the best reasons.

That ethicists emphasize rational discourse may be counter-intuitive in a society dominated by appeals to emotion, prejudice, faith, and group loyalty. But ethicists, secular and religious alike, try to impartially examine the arguments for and against moral propositions in order to determine where the weight of reason lies in the matter. Ethicists may not be perfect umpires, and the truth about moral matters is often difficult to determine, but ethicists are trained to be impartial and thorough when analyzing arguments. Some are better at this than others, but when a significant majority agrees, it is probably because some arguments really are stronger than others.

Now you might wonder what makes ethicists better able to adjudicate between good and bad arguments than ordinary people. The answer is that professional ethicists are schooled in logic and the critical thinking skills demanded by those who carefully and conscientiously examine arguments. They are also trained in the more abstract fields of meta-ethics, which considers the meaning of moral terms and concepts, as well as in ethical theory, which considers norms, standards, or criteria for moral conduct. Moreover, they are familiar with the best philosophical arguments that have been advanced for and against moral propositions. So they are in a good position to reject arguments that may influence those unfamiliar with favored positions.

All this education doesn’t mean that the majority of ethicists are right, so individuals who disagree with them may choose to follow their own conscience. But if the vast majority of ethicists agree about an ethics issue, we should take notice. It might be that the reasons you give for your fervently held moral beliefs don’t stand up to critical scrutiny. Perhaps they can’t be rationally defended as well as those reached after conscientious, informed, and impartial analysis. This doesn’t mean that you should ignore your conscience and accept expert opinion, but if you are serious about a moral problem you should want to know the views of those who have thoroughly studied the issue.

At this point, you might object that there are no moral experts because ethics is relative to an individual’s opinions or emotions. You might say that the experts have their opinion and you have yours, and that’s the end of it. Perhaps our view of behaviors in the moral realm are similar to how we view carrots—some people like them and some don’t. This theory is called personal moral relativism. However, not only do most ethicists reject moral relativism, so do pro-lifers. After all, pro-lifers don’t think that the moral prohibition against abortion is relative;  they think it’s absolute. They believe that there are good reasons why abortion is immoral and any rational person should accept those reasons. However, these reasons must be evaluated to see if they are really good ones; to see if they convince other knowledgeable persons. Yet so far, the pro-life arguments haven’t persuaded many ethicists.

Lacking good reasons or armed with weak ones, many will object that their moral beliefs derive from their Gods. To base your ethical views on Gods you would need to know: 1) if Gods exist; 2) if they are good; 3) if they issue good commands; 4) how to find the commands; and 5) the proper version and translation of the holy books issuing commands, or the right interpretation of the commands, or the legitimacy of a church authority issuing commands. Needless to say, it is hard, if not impossible, to know any of this.

Consider just the interpretation problem. When does a seemingly straightforward command from a holy book like, “thou shalt not kill,” apply? In self-defense? In war? Always? And to whom does it apply? To non-human animals? Intelligent aliens? Serial killers? All living things? The unborn? The brain-dead? Religious commands such as “don’t kill,” “honor thy parents,” and “don’t commit adultery” are ambiguous. Difficulties also arise if we hear voices commanding us, or if we accept an institution’s authority. Why trust the voices in our heads, or institutional authorities?

For the sake of argument though, let’s assume: that there are Gods; that you know the true one; that your God issues good commands; that you have access to those commands because you have found the right book or church, or had the right vision, or heard the right voices; and that you interpret and understand the command correctly—even if they came from a book that has been translated from one language to another over thousands of years, or from a long-ago revelation. It is almost impossible that you are correct about all this, but for the sake of the argument let’s say that you are. However, even in this case, most philosophers would argue that you can’t base ethics on your God.

To understand why you can’t base ethics on Gods consider the question: what is the relationship between the Gods and their commands? A classic formulation of this relationship is called the divine-command theory. According to divine command theory, things are right or wrong simply because the Gods command or forbid them. There is nothing more to morality than this. It’s like a parent who says to a child: it’s right because I say so. To see how this formulation of the relationship fails, consider a famous philosophical conundrum: “Are things right because the Gods command them, or do the Gods command them because they are right?”

If things are right simply because the Gods command them, then those commands are arbitrary. In that case, the Gods could have made their commandments backward! If divine fiat is enough to make something right, then the Gods could have commanded us to kill, lie, cheat, steal and commit adultery, and those behaviors would then be moral. But the Gods can’t make something right if it’s wrong. The Gods can’t make torturing children morally acceptable simply by divine decree, and that is the main reason why most Christian theologians reject divine command theory.

On the other hand, if the Gods command things because they are right, then there are reasons for the God’s commands. In this view, the Gods, in their infinite wisdom and benevolence, command things because they see certain commands as good for us. But if this is the case, then there is some standard, norm or criteria by which good or bad are measured which is independent of the Gods. Thus all of us, religious and secular alike, should be looking for the reasons that certain behaviors should be condemned or praised. Even the thoughtful believer should engage in philosophical ethics.

So either the God’s commands are without reason and therefore arbitrary, or they are rational according to some standard. This standard—say that we would all be better off—is thus the reason we should be moral and that reason, not the God’s authority, is what makes something right or wrong. The same is true for a supposedly authoritative book. Something isn’t wrong simply because a book says so. There must be a reason that something is right or wrong, and if there isn’t, then the book has no moral authority on the matter.

At this point, the believer might object that the Gods have reasons for their commands, but we can’t know them. Yet if the ways of the Gods are really mysterious to us, what’s the point of religion? If you can’t know anything about the Gods or their commands, then why follow those commands, why have religion at all, why listen to the priest or preacher? If it’s all a mystery, we should remain silent or become mystics.

In response, the religious may say that, even though they don’t know the reason for their God’s commands, they must oppose abortion because of the inerrancy of their sacred scriptures or church tradition. They might say that since the Bible and their church oppose abortion, that’s good enough for them, despite what moral philosophers say. But in fact, neither church authority nor Christian scripture unequivocally opposes abortion.

As for scriptures, they don’t generally offer specific moral guidance. Moreover, most ancient scriptures survived as oral traditions before being written down; they have been translated multiple times; they are open to multiple interpretations; and they don’t discuss many contemporary moral issues. Furthermore, the issue of abortion doesn’t arise in the Christian scriptures except tangentially. There are a few Biblical passages quoted by conservatives to support the anti-abortion position, the most well-known is in Jeremiah: “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you.” But, as anyone who has examined this passage knows, the sanctity of fetal life isn’t being discussed here. Rather, Jeremiah is asserting his authority as a prophet. This is a classic example of seeking support in holy books for a position you already hold.

Many other Biblical passages point to the more liberal view of abortion. Three times in the Bible (Genesis 38:24; Leviticus 21:9; Deuteronomy 22:20–21) the death penalty is recommended for women who have sex out-of-wedlock, even though killing the women would kill their fetuses. In Exodus 21 God prescribes death as the penalty for murder, whereas the penalty for causing a woman to miscarry is a fine. In the Old Testament, the fetus doesn’t seem to have personhood status, and the New Testament says nothing about abortion at all. There simply isn’t a strong scriptural tradition in Christianity against abortion.

There also is no strong church tradition against abortion. It is true that the Catholic Church has held for centuries that activities like contraception and abortion are immoral. Yet, while most pro-lifers don’t consider those distributing birth control to be murderers, the Catholic Church and others do take the extreme view that abortion is murder. Where does such a strong condemnation come from? The history of the Catholic view isn’t clear on the issue, but in the 13th century, the philosopher Thomas Aquinas argued that the soul enters the body when the zygote has a human shape. Gradually, other Christian theologians argued that the soul enters the body a few days after conception, although we don’t exactly know why they believed this. But, given what we now know about fetal development today, if the Catholic Church’s position remained consistent with the views of Aquinas, they should say that the soul doesn’t enter the zygote for at least a month or two after conception. (Note also that there really is no moment of conception.)

Thus the anti-abortion position doesn’t clearly follow from either scripture or church tradition. Instead what happens is that people already have moral views, and they then look to their religion for support. In other words, moral convictions aren’t usually derived from scripture or church tradition so much as superimposed on them. (For example, American Christians used the Bible to both support and oppose slavery.) But even if the pro-life position did follow from a religious tradition, that would only be relevant to religious believers. For the rest of us, and for many religious believers too, the best way to adjudicate our disputes without resorting to violence is to conscientiously examine the arguments for and against moral propositions by shining the light of reason upon them. Having done this the vast majority of ethicists have concluded that abortion isn’t generally morally problematic.

It also clearly follows that religious believers have no right to impose their views upon the rest of us. We live in a morally pluralistic society where, informed by the ethos of the Enlightenment, we should reject theocracy. We should allow people to follow their conscience in moral matters—you can drink alcohol—as long as others aren’t harmed—you shouldn’t drink and drive. In the philosophy of law, this is known as the harm principle. Now if rational argumentation supported the view that a zygote is a full person, then we might have reason to outlaw abortion, inasmuch as abortion would harm another person. (I say might because the fact that something is a person doesn’t necessarily imply that’s it wrong to kill it, as defenders of war, self-defense, and capital punishment claim.)

But for now, the received view among ethicists is that the pro-life arguments fail, primarily because the fetus satisfies few if any of the necessary and sufficient conditions for personhood. The impartial view, backed by contemporary biology and philosophical argumentation, is that a zygote is a potential person. That doesn’t mean it has no moral significance, but it does mean that it has less significance than an actual person. An acorn may become an oak tree, but an oak tree it is not. You may believe that your God puts souls into newly fertilized eggs, thereby granting them full personhood, but that is a religious belief that isn’t grounded in science or philosophical ethics.

As for American politics and abortion, no doubt much of the anti-abortion rhetoric in American society comes from a punitive, puritanical desire to punish people for having sex. Moreover, many are hypocritical on the issue, simultaneously opposing abortion as well as the only proven ways of reducing it—good sex education and readily available birth control.

As for many (if not most) politicians, their public opposition is hypocritical and self-interested. Generally, they don’t care about the issue—they care about the power and wealth derived from politics—but they feign concern by throwing red meat to their constituencies. They use the issue as a ploy to garner support from the unsuspecting. These politicians may be pro-birth, but they aren’t generally pro-life, as evidenced by their opposition to policies that would support the things that children need most after birth like education, health care, and economic opportunities.

But what politicians and many ordinary people clearly don’t care about is whether their fanatical anti-abortion position is based on rational argumentation. And, according to most ethicists who have carefully examined the problem, it does not.

Monogamy or Polygamy?

[image error] (Humphrey Bogart): A man takes a drop too much once in a while, it’s only human nature.
 (Katherine Hepburn): Nature, Mr. Allnut, is what we are put in this world to rise above.
~ The African Queen (1951)

Which is more natural for human beings, monogamy1 or polygamy? If one is more natural, does that make it preferable?

Most documented human societies, about 85%, have been polygamous. This almost always involves polygyny, men having multiple wives. Polyandry, wives having multiple husbands and polyamory, having more than one consensual, intimate relationship at the same time, are far less common. Even in so-called monogamous cultures people have affairs, and they often engage in serial monogamy, the custom of having multiple, consecutive sexual relationships but not more than one at a time. Perhaps humans are naturally polygamous.

Yet there are examples in nature of mostly monogamous relationships: lar gibbons, mute swans, Malagasy giant rats, waved albatrosses, California mouses, black vultures, shingleback skinks, sandhill cranes, prairie voles, convict cichlids, some African antelopes, and … humans. Humans are capable of long-term, happy, monogamous relationships, just as they are capable of having polygamous ones.

So it is hard to say whether monogamy or polygamy is more natural. It might be like asking whether it is more natural to speak English or German. Humans are wired to learn language just as they naturally crave contact with others, but culture largely determines the language they learn and the forms of their relationships.  Nature doesn’t determine which language or relationship is best. And even if one is more natural than the other that doesn’t make it better. Some natural things are good, but some are bad—like smallpox!

Moreover, humans have both long-term and short-term mating strategies. We associate long-term mating strategies with monogamy. These strategies value commitment, gene quality, economic prospects and parenting skills. We associate short-term mating strategies with polygamy. These strategies value physical attractiveness, sex appeal, and sexual experience. But nature doesn’t decree which types of relationships are morally or biologically better.

Regarding the origins of monogamy the situation is straightforward:

The genetic evidence for the evolution of monogamy in humans is more complex but much more straightforward. While female effective population size (the number of individuals successfully producing offspring thus contributing to the gene pool), as indicated by mitochondrial-DNA evidence, increased around the time of human (not hominid) expansion out of Africa about 80,000–100,000 years ago, male effective population size, as indicated by Y-chromosome evidence, did not increase until the advent of agriculture 18,000 years ago. This means that before 18 000 years ago, many females would be reproducing with the same few males.[36]

This strongly suggests that monogamy is a cultural imperative, not a biological one. And the modern world favors monogamy—polygamy is illegal in the entire developed world.  Why the transition from polygamy to monogamy? The main reason is that polygyny is detrimental to society. It creates an incentive for men to take many wives, leaving other men without wives—and men without mates cause problems. In polygynous societies levels of crime, violence, poverty and gender inequality are greater than in monogamous ones as a recent study at the University of British Columbia confirmed:

… monogamy’s main cultural evolutionary advantage over polygyny is the more egalitarian distribution of women, which reduces male competition and social problems. By shifting male efforts from seeking wives to paternal investment, institutionalized monogamy increases long-term planning, economic productivity, savings and child investment …

Monogamous marriage also results in significant improvements in child welfare, including lower rates of child neglect, abuse, accidental death, homicide and intra-household conflict, the study finds. These benefits result from greater levels of parental investment, smaller households, and increased direct “blood relatedness” in monogamous family households …

… By decreasing competition for younger and younger brides, monogamous marriage increases the age of first marriage for females, decreases the spousal age gap and elevates female influence in household decisions which decreases total fertility and increases gender equality.

It seems that we should favor the wisdom of culture over our genetic lease. Still, you might object. “Even if it’s in society’s interests to have stable monogamous unions that doesn’t mean it’s in mine. I like polygamous or polyandrous relationships.” It is hard to give a knockdown argument against this. If all involved parties are happier in such relationships, and the effects on society are limited, then so be it.

I can only speak for myself by echoing the words of that great freethinker Voltaire:

As I had now seen all that was beautiful on earth, I resolved for the future to see nothing but my own home; I took a wife, and soon suspected that she deceived me; but notwithstanding this doubt, I still found that of all conditions of life this was much the happiest.2

_______________________________________________________________________

1. I am referring to marital monogamy, marriages of two people only, and social monogamy, two partners living together, having sex together, and cooperating in acquiring basic resources.

2. Voltaire, The Travels of Scarmentado.

Russell’s Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech

Bertrand Russell won the 1950 Nobel Prize in Literature “in recognition of his varied and significant writings in which he champions humanitarian ideals and freedom of thought.” In his presentation Speech, Anders Österling, Permanent Secretary of the Swedish Academy proclaimed:

We honour you as a brilliant champion of humanity and free thought, and it is a pleasure for us to see you here on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of the Nobel Foundation. With these words I request you to receive from the hands of His Majesty the King the Nobel Prize in Literature for 1950.

And at the award banquet later that evening, Robin Fåhraeus, Member of the Royal Academy of Sciences, added:

Dear Professor Bertrand Russell – We salute you as one of the greatest and most influential thinkers of our age, endowed with just those four characteristics which on another occasion you have regarded to be the criteria of prominent fellow men; namely, vitality, courage, receptivity, and intelligence.

The title of Russell’s acceptance speech was “What Desires Are Politically Important?” He begins by noting that “All human activity is prompted by desire.” Of course, you can resist desire from a sense of duty, but only if you desire to be dutiful, thus desire comes first and to understand people’s motives, you must know their desires. In the political sphere, the primary desires are for “… food and shelter and clothing. When these things become very scarce, there is no limit to the efforts that men will make, or to the violence that they will display, in the hope of securing them.” In addition, human beings have some limitless, insatiable desires, the most important of which are —acquisitiveness, rivalry, vanity, and love of power.

Acquisitiveness is the wish to possess as much as possible, and no matter how much you acquire, you generally want more. But rivalry is an even stronger motive.  We aren’t satisfied to acquire; we must have more than our rivals. We will risk our lives to ruin our competitors. Vanity also has immense power to motivate, but it too is never satisfied. The more attention we receive, the more we want because we are narcissistic. Moreover, human beings “have even committed the impiety of attributing similar desires to the Deity, whom they imagine avid for continual praise.”

But the greatest of our desires is the love of power. It is an insatiable desire and “Nothing short of omnipotence could satisfy it completely.” But most human beings want power over other people more than anything else. Still, the love of power can be useful. For it motivates the pursuit of knowledge and political reformers as well as despots.

There are other secondary desires like the love of excitement and the desire to escape from boredom. Russell’s wit is ever-present. “it is … chiefly love of excitement which makes the populace applaud when war breaks out; the emotion is exactly the same as at a football match …” This love of excitement is exacerbated by the sedentary lifestyle of so many modern people. Hunter-gatherers had little time for boredom, but modern people seek outlets for their love of excitement, often with disastrous results. “When crowds assemble in Trafalgar Square to cheer to the echo an announcement that the government has decided to have them killed, they would not do so if they had all walked twenty-five miles that day.” Better to use dance or music or sport as an outlet for our unused physical energy because

… so many … forms [of the desire for excitement] are destructive. It is destructive in those who cannot resist excess in alcohol or gambling. It is destructive when it takes the form of mob violence. And above all it is destructive when it leads to war. It is so deep a need that it will find harmful outlets of this kind unless innocent outlets are at hand. There are such innocent outlets at present in sport, and in politics so long as it is kept within constitutional bounds.

Other “political motives are two closely related passions to which human beings are regrettably prone: I mean fear and hate.” We normally hate what we fear, and fear what we hate. Typically we “both fear and hate whatever is unfamiliar.”  We cope with fear by minimizing what’s threatening us or by adopting a Stoic temperament. But “Fear is in itself degrading; it easily becomes an obsession; it produces hate of that which is feared, and it leads headlong to excesses of cruelty.” Russell does grant that people are motivated by  sympathy, adding “Perhaps the best hope for the future of mankind is that ways will be found of increasing the scope and intensity of sympathy.”

Russell summarizes by arguing that politics is about the passions of herds. “The broad instinctive mechanism upon which political edifices have to be built is one of cooperation within the herd and hostility towards other herds.” (An insight of modern biology—in-group loyalty and out-group hostility.)  But of course, we would be better off if we were motivated by enlightened self-interest because then

There would be no more wars, no more armies, no more navies, no more atom bombs. There would not be armies of propagandists employed in poisoning the minds of Nation A against Nation B, and reciprocally of Nation B against Nation A.  All this would happen very quickly if men desired their own happiness as ardently as they desired the misery of their neighbours.

But human beings don’t generally act in their collective self-interest, acting instead for what they consider more noble motives.

Much that passes as idealism is disguised hatred or disguised love of power. When you see large masses of men swayed by what appear to be noble motives, it is as well to look below the surface and ask yourself what it is that makes these motives effective. It is partly because it is so easy to be taken in by a facade of nobility that a psychological inquiry, such as I have been attempting, is worth making. I would say, in conclusion, that if what I have said is right, the main thing needed to make the world happy is intelligence . . .